Chapter 3 - Shifting Shadows
I returned to our penthouse apartment in the Gold Coast at 8:00 PM, pretending nothing had happened. The binder and documents were safely hidden in the spare tire compartment of my SUV.
Alejandro was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Lake Michigan, a glass of scotch in his hand. He looked like the picture of success—tall, sharp-featured, ruthlessly handsome.
"You turned off your phone location today, Mariana," he said, not turning around. His voice was calm, but it was the calm before a hurricane.
"The battery died, Alejandro," I said, walking to the bar to pour myself a drink just to give my hands something to do. "I went for a long drive. I had a headache."
He turned slowly, his eyes drilling into mine. He walked across the room, his movements predatory, and placed a hand on my cheek. His touch, which used to feel safe, now made my skin crawl.
"Your mother said you were at the estate. Looking through your father's things." He tilted my chin up. "You know how much I dislike secrets, corporate or personal. We protect each other. That’s what we decided seven years ago when I saved you from that terrible marriage, remember?"
Saved me. The irony tasted like ash.
"I remember," I whispered, forcing a smile. "I'm just tired. I think I'll skip the dinner tonight and go to bed."
He stared at me for a long, agonizing moment before letting go. "Very well. Rest. We have a big week ahead with the firm's merger."
The moment he left the apartment, I changed into dark clothes and sneakers. I grabbed my keys. I knew I was running out of time. If Alejandro checked the estate's security logs, he would know I broke into the safe.
I had to find Robert. I had to tell him I knew the truth.
I drove south, away from the glittering skyscrapers and into the gritty, industrial landscape of the South Side. The shelter Robert mentioned was a low-slung brick building with peeling paint. Men and women stood outside in the damp night air, huddled near the entrance.
I stepped out of my luxury vehicle, completely out of place, and walked up to the volunteer at the front desk.
May you like
"I'm looking for Robert," I said, my voice trembling. "Robert Velasquez."
The volunteer, a tired-looking woman in her fifties, sighed. "Robert doesn't usually stay inside unless it's freezing. Check the alley behind the abandoned warehouse two blocks over. He keeps to himself."
