Chapter 4 - Marco’s Last Game

Returning to the mansion was the last thing Elena had told him to do.

So Galen did it carefully.

Three decoy vehicles left Brooklyn in different directions. Matteo’s men swept the estate from the woods inward. Cameras were disconnected, replaced with a closed local network, and every staff member was separated for questioning.

Galen entered through the kitchen with Eira beside him.

Mara objected.

“This is exactly where Elena said not to bring her.”

Eira answered before Galen could.

“I’m not staying somewhere else while everyone decides things about my family.”

Galen looked at her.

She sounded too old.

He hated that.

“You stay with Mara.”

“I will.”

“No wandering.”

“I know.”

He knelt.

“Eira.”

She met his eyes.

“No wandering.”

“I promise.”

He kissed her forehead.

The chess set waited in the old library.

Marco had carved it himself at sixteen from walnut and ivory-colored maple. Galen remembered endless winter nights when his brother played too aggressively, sacrificing pieces just to make the board interesting.

“He always lost on purpose to Eira,” Galen said.

Matteo touched one of the black rooks.

“Maybe he was practicing.”

Galen studied the pieces.

Black triangle.

Map marker.

Marco’s map.

One knight had a tiny triangle carved beneath the base.

Galen twisted it.

A hidden compartment opened inside.

Matteo let out a low whistle.

A rolled strip of paper slipped into Galen’s palm.

It was not a map.

It was a list of numbers.

Damian, standing under guard behind them, looked over his shoulder.

“Coordinates?”

“No.”

Galen studied the groups.

“Chess notation.”

He set up the board.

Marco had written twelve moves.

Galen played them.

At the end, the pieces formed an unusual pattern.

Three black pieces occupied a diagonal.

A bishop, a knight, a rook.

Under each base was a carved symbol.

Galen opened them one by one.

The bishop contained a key.

The rook contained a microfilm strip.

The knight contained a photograph.

Marco and Ainsley stood together outside a hospital.

Ainsley held a newborn.

Marco looked terrified.

On the back, Marco had written:

She says they will take Lily if I talk.

Galen’s throat tightened.

Matteo took the photograph.

“Proof of paternity?”

“Not enough.”

Damian stared at the microfilm.

“That may be.”

They found an old projector in the archive room.

The microfilm held scanned contracts, bank transfers, and one handwritten letter.

Marco’s letter.

Galen read aloud.

“If anything happens to me, Celeste Kensington ordered it.”

Damian closed his eyes.

Marco described the affair with Ainsley.

She had been twenty-one. He had been twenty-six. They had met secretly for nearly a year.

When Ainsley became pregnant, Celeste threatened to destroy Marco unless he agreed to let the Kensington family control several Rossi shipping routes.

Marco refused.

Then Lily was born.

The Kensingtons declared the baby dead publicly and moved her into a private household under Celeste’s control.

Ainsley had begged Marco to cooperate.

He had refused again.

The final line read:

Ainsley is afraid of her mother, but fear is turning her into her.

Galen lowered the paper.

“That explains why Elena said Ainsley wasn’t in charge.”

Damian shook his head.

“It does not make her innocent.”

“No.”

Galen thought of Eira’s bruised cheek.

“Nothing makes her innocent.”

Matteo’s phone rang.

He listened.

Then looked at Galen.

“We found one of Celeste’s drivers.”

“Alive?”

“Yes.”

“Bring him.”

The driver arrived twenty minutes later, sweating through his shirt.

His name was Peter Hall. He had worked for Celeste for twelve years.

“I don’t know where they went,” he said immediately.

Matteo leaned against the door.

“That wasn’t the first question.”

Peter swallowed.

Galen placed Marco’s photograph on the desk.

“Did you drive my brother the night he died?”

Peter stared at it.

His face answered first.

“Yes.”

Eira stood unseen in the hall with Mara.

Galen did not know she was there.

“What happened?”

“Mrs. Kensington told me it was a negotiation.”

“Where?”

“A marina in Oyster Bay.”

“Who was there?”

“Celeste. Two men from a security company. Marco.”

“Ainsley?”

Peter nodded.

Galen’s hands curled.

“What happened?”

“They argued. Marco said he had copies of everything. Celeste said he would never see his daughter again.”

“And then?”

“One of the men hit him.”

Galen’s vision narrowed.

“Was he alive when he went into the water?”

Peter began crying.

“Yes.”

Galen rose so fast the chair fell behind him.

Matteo stepped between them.

“Boss.”

Galen stopped.

Peter shook violently.

“I didn’t touch him. I swear.”

“You drove them.”

“Yes.”

“You watched.”

“Yes.”

“You said nothing for eight years.”

“They told me my children would disappear.”

Galen laughed once, without humor.

“Everyone keeps using children to explain cowardice.”

A small voice came from the hallway.

“Daddy.”

He turned.

Eira stood beside Mara.

Galen closed his eyes.

“You promised.”

“I didn’t wander. Mara came here.”

Mara looked guilty.

“I thought you should know she was close.”

Galen looked back at Peter.

“What does Celeste want now?”

Peter wiped his face.

“She thinks Elena has the master ledger.”

“She does?”

“I don’t know.”

“What is it?”

“The list of everyone in the Concord. Names, payments, protection agreements. Enough to bring down judges, police commanders, businessmen.”

Damian stepped forward.

“I have heard rumors.”

Peter looked at him.

“You signed three of their agreements.”

Damian went pale.

Galen turned.

“Did you?”

“I signed legal structures. I did not know—”

Peter laughed bitterly.

“You knew enough to bill triple.”

Damian fell silent.

Galen wanted to throw him through the wall.

Instead he asked Peter, “Where would Celeste take Lily?”

Peter shook his head.

“She has safe properties.”

“Which?”

“I only know one. A farmhouse near Millbrook.”

Matteo was already moving.

Galen grabbed his coat.

Eira stepped forward.

“I’m coming.”

“No.”

“But Lily—”

“No.”

“She’s my family.”

“And because she is your family, I need to be able to go after her without wondering if someone has you.”

Eira’s face crumpled.

Galen crouched.

“You are not less important because you stay behind.”

“That’s what Mommy did.”

The sentence froze him.

“She left me behind to keep me safe.”

Galen stared at her.

“And it hurt.”

“Yes.”

He took her hands.

“I am not leaving you without an answer. I am going to bring Lily back. Then I am coming back to you.”

“What if Mommy is there?”

His throat tightened.

“Then I will bring her too.”

Eira searched his face.

“Promise?”

“I promise I will do everything I can.”

She hated the careful wording.

He saw that.

But he would not make a promise the world could break.

At the farmhouse, they found blood.

Not much.

Enough.

The front door hung open.

Inside, a dining chair was overturned, a lamp shattered, and a child’s pink backpack lay on the floor.

Galen recognized it.

Lily’s.

Matteo picked up a spent casing.

“Recent.”

A sound came from upstairs.

Weapons rose.

They found Ainsley in a bedroom.

Her hands were tied behind a chair.

There was blood on her mouth.

Galen stopped in the doorway.

Ainsley looked at him.

For once, no polish remained.

“Where is Lily?”

Ainsley laughed weakly.

“You think I took her?”

“You escaped with her.”

“My mother took both of us.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.”

Galen grabbed the chair back.

“Do not play with me.”

“I am not.”

Her eyes filled.

“You want to hate me? Fine. Hate me. I hit Eira. I took Elena’s things. I wanted her gone from this house even after she was dead.”

“She isn’t dead.”

Ainsley’s face changed.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

Galen saw it.

“You knew.”

“I suspected.”

“Why?”

“My mother has been looking for her for years.”

Galen leaned closer.

“Where is Lily?”

“I don’t know.”

Matteo cut her restraints.

She collapsed forward, then caught herself.

“My mother said Lily was getting too curious. She found Marco’s picture.”

Galen’s pulse jumped.

“What picture?”

“The same one you have.”

Ainsley stared at him.

“Lily knows I’m her mother.”

“Does she know Marco was her father?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

Galen’s jaw tightened.

“You told her?”

“No. Elena did.”

The room went still.

“Elena contacted Lily?”

Ainsley nodded.

“Through a school email account.”

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“To warn her not to trust Celeste.”

Ainsley looked down.

“My mother found the messages.”

Galen understood.

The engagement.

The disappearing memories.

The attack at the vault.

Everything had accelerated because Elena reached for Lily.

“Why did you remove Elena’s things from Eira’s room?”

Ainsley’s eyes hardened with shame.

“My mother ordered me to search them.”

“For the master ledger.”

“Yes.”

“And when you couldn’t find it?”

“She said Elena would have hidden it in something sentimental.”

“The locket.”

“I thought maybe.”

“You slapped an eight-year-old because you wanted evidence.”

Ainsley’s voice broke.

“I slapped her because she looked at me like she knew what I was.”

“No.”

Galen’s stare was merciless.

“You slapped her because you knew what you were.”

Ainsley began to cry.

He felt nothing.

Then she whispered, “I did love you.”

“That makes it worse.”

“I thought if I married you, my mother would stop controlling everything.”

“You used my daughter.”

“I know.”

“You tried to erase her mother.”

“I know.”

“You entered my life because Celeste told you to.”

Ainsley closed her eyes.

“Yes.”

Galen stepped away.

Matteo searched the room.

“Boss.”

He held up a phone.

Ainsley’s.

There was one unsent draft message.

A location.

Ainsley looked at it.

“I typed that before she took my phone.”

“Where is it?”

“An abandoned convent in Westchester.”

Galen froze.

Saint Agnes.

Elena had once taken Eira there for a Christmas charity event.

Ainsley swallowed.

“My mother said she was going to finish what should have been finished five years ago.”

Galen’s voice dropped.

“Elena?”

“And Lily.”

A shot cracked through the window.

Glass exploded.

Matteo tackled Galen to the floor.

Ainsley screamed.

Another shot struck the wall behind her.

Galen rolled behind the bed.

“Shooter!”

Matteo’s men returned fire outside.

Ainsley crawled toward Galen.

“They’re cleaning the site.”

“Who?”

“My mother.”

Galen looked at her.

Ainsley’s face was white.

“She never leaves witnesses.”

Galen grabbed her arm and pulled her behind cover.

“You’re a witness now.”

Ainsley laughed through tears.

“No.”

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She looked at the broken window.

“I became one the moment I failed her.”