I went back to the eting back at Susan’s estate. Everyone was exhausted and desperate.
"We need to find A.M.," I say. "The real Architect to prove they frad Tony."
"How?" Timothy’s frustrated. "We’ve been hunting the Commission for months. This person is better hidden than anyone we’ve faced."
"Then we think differently." I’m pacing. "What if A.M. isn’t hiding because they’re invisible? What if they’re hiding in plain sight?"
Elliot’s been going through Commission communications for hours. "Whoever this is has been involved for decades, but they’ve never communicated directly. Always through interdiaries."
"Margaret gave orders from higher up," I add. "Morrison referenced the board and Charles talked about investors. What if A.M. is all of those things? A legitimate businessperson we’ve overlooked?"
Susan’s pulling up her family’s corporate files. "My family’s done business with these companies for generations. ridian, Sterling Industries, Atlas Global - let see who appears across all of them."
She types, searches, then stops.
"One na appears repeatedly across all partnerships spanning forty years."
She turns the screen.
"Alexander Morrison. Investnt banker, Philanthropist, and Billionaire."
"Morrison." I stare at the na. "Like Jennifer Morrison?"
"Could be a relative." Susan’s already searching. "Let check."
Two minutes later: "He’s her uncle. Jennifer Morrison’s father’s brother."
Timothy’s face shows recognition. "Alexander Morrison. I’ve heard of him. He’s a major philanthropist who funds hospitals, schools, and museums. PBS did a special on his charitable work."
"Hmmm, a perfect cover for a criminal empire," I say slowly.
"But he’s too visible," Timothy protests. "Too legitimate. He’s friends with senators, judges, and dia moguls. We can’t touch him without ironclad proof."
"Then we get that proof." I et everyone’s eyes. "Whatever it takes."
"He already took Susan once," Bella points out. "Going after him directly is dangerous."
"Everything’s dangerous." I’m not backing down. "But Tony’s in Rikers. Being frad for twelve murders. We’re out of ti."
Thomas’s face appears on the video screen. He’s recovered enough to participate remotely. Bella’s with him at the hospital.
"I worked for Alexander Morrison," Thomas says. "For years. Never knew it was him, always interdiaries, but there’s one person who knows everything. His personal assistant is a woman nad Abigail Duke."
"Can we get to her?" Timothy asks.
"She’s 69, retired last year. Lives in Connecticut." Thomas looks tired and guilty. "She’s been with Morrison for thirty-five years. She knows where all the bodies are buried. Literally."
Visiting Tony at Rikers was heartbreaking.
He’s in an orange prison uniform. There are already bruises on his face, probably from fights in gen pop.
We’re separated by glass, talking through phones.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Been better." He tries to smile. "Food’s terrible, roommate snores. Two stars, I would not recomnd."
"Tony-"
"It’s okay. I’m okay." His hand presses against the glass, and I match it with mine. "Are you okay?"
"No. I’m terrified. You’re in here for sothing you didn’t do, and I can’t-" My voice breaks.
"Hey, look at ." He waits until I do. "You’re going to figure this out. You’re going to find A.M and prove I was frad. I trust you."
"What if I can’t? What if Morrison’s too protected?"
"Then you tried but Katherine-" His face is serious. "Be careful. Morrison is more dangerous than Charles. More ruthless and more connected. If you go after him, he’ll co after everyone you love."
"I don’t care."
"I do." His voice is intense. "I can survive prison. I can’t survive you dying trying to save . Promise you’ll be careful."
"I can’t promise that."
"Katherine-"
"Ti’s up," the guard announces.
"I love you," I say desperately. "No matter what happens. I love you."
"I love you too. And I’m trusting you to get out safely. Don’t sacrifice yourself for . Promise."
I can’t promise that, so I just mouth "I love you" as the guard leads him away.
He looks back once, his eyes full of everything we can’t say.
Then he’s gone.
Abigail Duke lived in a modest house in Connecticut. Surprising for soone who worked for a billionaire for thirty-five years.
Timothy, Bella, and I drive up together.
We knock on the door, and an elegant older woman answers. Late sixties with silver hair. Her sharp eyes assess us imdiately.
"Can I help you?"
"We need to talk about Alexander Morrison."
Her face closes down instantly. "I have nothing to say about Mr. Morrison."
She starts to close the door.
I stop it with my hand. "He’s going to kill you. You know that, right?"
She pauses.
"You’re the last loose end," I continue. "Everyone who’s ever worked closely with him ends up dead. Margaret Liu, Jennifer Morrison, and the entire ridian board. All dead."
"I’ve been loyal for thirty-five years," she says carefully.
"And he’ll reward that loyalty by eliminating you, that’s what he does. That’s what powerful people do when they want to stay clean."
Fear flickers in her eyes. "Even if that were true, I can’t help you. I have... reasons."
"He has leverage on you." Bella steps forward. "What is it?"
"I don’t-"
"Everyone has a pressure point," Bella says gently. "What’s yours?"
Abigail looks at us for a long mont, then sighs.
"Co in, but if Morrison finds out I talked to you, we’re all dead."
She leads us inside. It was small and neat, not the ho of soone living on a billionaire’s payroll.
"My daughter," Abigail says finally. "Emily. She’s not well and has been in a psychiatric facility. It’s a very expensive care."
"Morrison pays for it?" I guess.
"Has been for twenty years. Emily’s vulnerable, without that facility..." Abigail’s voice cracks. "If I betray him, Emily loses her care. She’d end up on the streets or dead."
"What if we protected Emily?" I ask. "What if we guaranteed her care better care than Morrison provides?"
"You can’t. You’re wanted fugitives, and your boyfriend’s in prison for murder."
"Actually," Timothy says, "I can. FBI witness protection extends to family mbers. You testify against Morrison, and Emily gets protected. Full care with better facilities if needed. Federal protection."
Abigail’s face shows hope, then doubt. "Morrison’s too powerful and too connected. He’ll find us."
"Not if he’s in prison," I say. "Not if we bring him down completely, but we need your help, your testimony, and your evidence."
She’s wrestling with it. Thirty-five years of loyalty versus survival. Versus her daughter’s life.
"What would you need?" she asks finally.
"Everything. Docunts, recordings, accounts. Everything Morrison’s done for thirty-five years."
"That’s... that’s decades of cris."
"Which ans decades of leverage," Bella points out. "To ensure Emily’s safety and to ensure yours."
She paused for a long ti, then said, "I kept copies of everything. Insurance policy, too."
"Morrison doesn’t know?" Timothy asks.
"Morrison doesn’t know I’ve been docunting his cris for thirty-five years. Waiting for the right mont to use it." She looks at . "I think that mont just arrived."
She goes to her basent and returns ten minutes later with boxes, file boxes emphasizing years of evidence.
"These contain financial records, recorded conversations, orders for hits, and the commission structure. Everything." She sets them down. "But you should know - Morrison’s not just targeting your boyfriend. He’s targeting everyone on that Rikers cell block."
My blood runs cold. "What do you an?"
She pulls up news on her phone. "Prison riot at Rikers. Started about an hour ago with dozens injured. The news isn’t reporting specifics yet, but..."
She shows us sothing else. It’s an encrypted ssage on her old work phone that still receives Morrison’s communications.
Tony Marvin dies in riot. Make it look like gang violence. Leave no witnesses. -A.M.
"No." I’m already running for the door. "No, no, no-"
My phone rings. It’s from the prison.
I answer with shaking hands. "Hello?"
"Ms. Blaire?" A guard’s voice ca in tense. "There’s been an incident. Anthony Marvin was attacked. He’s alive, but you need to get here. Now."
The line goes dead.
"Tony." I can barely breathe. "He was attacked. Morrison’s people are inside, and they’re trying to kill him."
"We go," Bella says imdiately. "Now. All of us."
"That’s what Morrison wants," Timothy warns. "Separate us and pick us off."
"I don’t care!" I’m screaming now. "I’m not losing Tony! I’m not-"
I’m already in the car with the engine starting, and Bella jumps in the passenger seat.
"Then we all go together," she says firmly. "That’s what family does."
Timothy gets in the back. "Fine, but we go smart - ard and prepared."
I’m driving too fast with my hands shaking on the wheel.
Tony’s alive, the guard said, he’s alive, but for how long?
Morrison’s people are inside Rikers. They’re professional killers with orders to make sure Tony never leaves that prison alive, and I’m an hour away.
An hour that might be too long.
"Drive faster," Bella says quietly.
I do.
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