I wanted to collapse.
Instead, I handed Leo to the nurse, kissed both my boys, and whispered, “Mommy is bringing your brother back.”
My father drove.
Not the chauffeur. Not security.
Him.
The black car tore down the private road before dawn, my mother beside him, Mara beside me in the back with a laptop open across her knees. I had changed into a dark coat over loose clothes, moving through pain so sharp it made my vision flash white.
“Black Harbor,” I said. “Tell me.”
My father’s hands tightened on the wheel.
“It was not just a fund,” he said. “It was a network. Politicians. bankers. shipping magnates. weapons brokers. People who used private money to move things that should never have been moved.”
“What things?”
“Cash. Gold. information. People.”
My stomach turned.
My mother spoke quietly. “Your father discovered it when your grandfather died. He found records hidden inside Ashford Global’s oldest maritime accounts.”
