Chapter 7 - THE DOOR THAT LED TO WYATT
The building stood near the Chicago River, surrounded by abandoned warehouses and rusting security fences.
From the street, it looked empty.
Its brick walls were stained by decades of rain. Several windows had been boarded up, and a faded sign advertised an investment firm that had supposedly closed years earlier.
But the lights on the upper floor were on.
Detective Lena Brooks studied the photographs.
"We have grounds to investigate the address," she said. "The communication from Wyatt and the business records are significant."
Marin stood beside Claire inside the police command vehicle.
"He's in there."
Brooks looked at her.
"We're working to confirm that."
"Wyatt said he found my mother's name."
"I know."
Marin pressed her hands together.
Every instinct told her to run toward the building.
To open every door.
To shout her brother's name until someone answered.
But she remembered what Wyatt had said when she tried to protect him from everything.
I'm not five.
He was frightened.
But he was also intelligent.
And if he had managed to send photographs and messages, he was still thinking clearly.
Marin needed to do the same.
Enzo approached.
He had removed his long overcoat and stood with his hands in his pockets.
For once, his bodyguards weren't surrounding him.
The police had made it clear that this was their operation.
He accepted it.
"How are you holding up?" he asked.
Marin gave a bitter laugh.
"Terribly."
He nodded.
"Fair."
She looked toward the building.
"Did you ever come here?"
"Once. Years ago."
"What was it used for?"
"Private company storage. My father kept old financial archives there."
"Why would Victor still have access?"
"Because he kept control of the property through a holding company."
Marin looked at him.
"You trusted him for a long time."
"Too long."
She studied his face.
Then asked quietly, "Are you afraid?"
Enzo didn't pretend otherwise.
"Yes."
"Of Victor?"
He looked toward the warehouse.
"Of what he may have done while I wasn't looking."
The answer surprised her.
Then she realized it was the most honest thing he'd said all day.
A few minutes later, Detective Brooks received confirmation that investigators were proceeding with the next stage of the operation.
Marin and Enzo remained outside the secured area.
They could do nothing but wait.
Ten minutes passed.
Then fifteen.
Marin watched the warehouse entrance.
She remembered teaching Wyatt to ride a bicycle.
Remembered the day he lost his first tooth.
Remembered carrying him into their mother's hospital room when Lila became too weak to walk.
She had promised she would look after him.
What if this was the moment she failed?
Her breathing became uneven.
Enzo noticed.
"Marin."
She shook her head.
"I can't."
"Look at me."
She did.
"You're doing everything you can."
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
"It doesn't feel like enough."
"I know."
He didn't touch her.
He simply stood beside her while she cried.
Then the warehouse doors opened.
A police officer emerged.
Another followed.
And between them walked a teenage boy wearing a navy jacket.
Marin stopped breathing.
"Wyatt?"
He looked toward the command vehicle.
For a moment, he seemed confused.
Then his eyes widened.
"Mar!"
She ran.
Nobody stopped her.
Wyatt broke away from the officer accompanying him and ran toward his sister.
They collided in the middle of the pavement.
Marin wrapped her arms around him so tightly that he stumbled.
"You're okay."
He laughed and cried at the same time.
"Mar, I can't breathe."
She pulled back.
Looked at his face.
Touched his hair.
Checked his hands.
Then hugged him again.
"Don't ever do that to me again."
"I didn't exactly plan it."
She began sobbing harder.
Wyatt held her.
"I'm okay."
For several seconds, nothing else mattered.
Not the Vermilion.
Not the false debt.
Not Victor Soren.
Just the fact that her brother was alive.
Medical personnel examined Wyatt.
He was tired, frightened, and mildly dehydrated, but had no serious injuries.
He explained that someone had convinced him the scholarship paperwork was genuine.
When he reached the office, two men told him Marin had arranged a private meeting.
He realized something was wrong and tried to leave.
They stopped him.
"I kept asking to call you," Wyatt said.
Marin held his hand.
"What did they say?"
"That you owed money and I needed to wait until it was sorted out."
Enzo's expression hardened.
Wyatt glanced at him.
"You're the guy from the hotel."
Enzo nodded.
"Enzo."
Wyatt studied him.
"Mar says you helped her."
"I tried."
Wyatt considered.
Then said, "Thanks."
Enzo gave a small nod.
"You're welcome."
The teenager leaned back against his pillow.
"But if you hurt my sister, I don't care how big you are."
For the first time that day, Enzo laughed.
A real laugh.
"I'll remember that."
Marin rolled her eyes.
"Wyatt."
"What? Somebody has to say it."
Later, Detective Brooks explained that the investigators had recovered computers, files, and records from the building.
Several people were being questioned.
The brass cabinet had been located.
So had documents connected to the old Calibra family businesses.
But the most important evidence came from Wyatt himself.
He had managed to copy a portion of the records onto an old office computer before the men holding him discovered what he was doing.
The files remained on the machine when officers secured it.
One document contained a list of employees.
Seventeen names.
Including Marin Holloway.
Another contained payment authorizations from Soren Holdings to Hollis Tras.
A third included internal correspondence describing how disputed employee debts could be used to retain staff in sensitive service positions.
Claire reviewed the preliminary information.
"This could be extremely important," she said.
Marin frowned.
"Sensitive positions?"
Claire looked up.
"Private lounges. High-value events. Customers who require confidential service."
Enzo understood first.
"They needed employees who couldn't quit."
Claire nodded.
"That's one possible conclusion we'll investigate."
Marin felt sick.
The women weren't simply being punished.
Their invented debts made them vulnerable to pressure.
And those pressures made them easier to control during meetings where wealthy clients didn't want witnesses who could speak freely.
She looked toward Wyatt.
He was sitting up, drinking water.
He had found evidence that could help seventeen women.
But he had also risked his life doing it.
Marin crossed the room.
"You're grounded until you're thirty."
Wyatt grinned weakly.
"Does that include college?"
"Especially college."
He laughed.
Then his expression changed.
"Mar, there's something else."
She sat beside him.
"What?"
"When I was in the office, I heard two men talking."
"About what?"
"About the necklace."
Marin went still.
Wyatt continued.
"One guy said they shouldn't have used an emerald because it was too recognizable."
Her heart began pounding.
"What else?"
"They said the woman who wore it had started asking questions."
Enzo looked toward Claire.
"Nadine."
Wyatt nodded.
"Yeah. That's the name."
Marin frowned.
"But Nadine accused me of stealing it."
Wyatt shook his head.
"No. I heard them say she didn't know they were going to blame you."
The room fell silent.
Then Claire looked at Marin.
"If that's true, Nadine may not be part of the scheme."
Marin stared.
For days, she had imagined the wealthy woman laughing while Hollis destroyed her life.
Now she wondered whether Nadine had been deceived too.
Wyatt continued.
"One of the men said Victor wanted her quiet."
Enzo's face hardened.
"Why?"
Wyatt swallowed.
"Because she found the original necklace in a private safe."
Marin looked at him.
"So it never disappeared?"
Wyatt shook his head.
"Not the way Hollis claimed."
He reached into his pocket.
An officer had returned his personal belongings after documenting them.
Wyatt took out a small folded note.
"I wrote down what I heard. I didn't want to forget."
Marin looked at the paper.
At the bottom were three words.
May you like
Ask Nadine first.
And suddenly, the woman Marin had blamed for her nightmare became the person who might be able to expose it.
