Mayor Alden Du Pont POV
I approach the towering bookshelf that dominates the entire left wall, its rows of leather-bound volumes meticulously aligned. My fingers brush over the spines until they find their mark—two hefty tomes, worn and heavy with age. With a firm grip, I tug them halfway down.
A deep, mechanical churning rumbles from within the wall, the hidden gears groaning to life, their echo resonating through the room. The bookcase shudders, then slowly pushes back with a deliberate creak, revealing a narrow, concealed compartment behind it. My heart quickens as I slip inside, the air cool and still, heavy with the scent of old wood.
I kneel at the small vault embedded in the floor, its sleek, metallic surface glinting under the dim light. I press my thumb against the biometric scanner, feeling the cold metal warm beneath my touch. A soft beep follows, and with a quiet click, the door unlocks and swings open on its own.
Inside, the vault is a trove of hidden identities. I push past neat stacks of crisp cash, their edges sharp and clean, to reveal four sets of passports, each bearing a different name, a different face. Each set belongs to each person, myself and my children. I hope to God they'll never need it.
A knock on the door sends a kick to my heart. I rise steadily, turning to leave and hitting the button on my way out as I walk briskly to the door. I pause to adjust the collar of my white dress shirt before my hand does a clean sweep over my hair to make sure everything is in place.
I open the door. My secretary.
I let her in, and I return to my furnished desk. I seat myself on the leather office chair, planting my elbows on the arms so I can steeple my fingers. Her auburn hair is pulled into an eye-pulling ball and she has this inquisitive look on her face, like she wants to ask me something but doesn't have the gall.
"Yes?" I prompt.
"Sorry." She shakes her head slightly, as if scolding herself for staring. "Was I interrupting something important?"
I conceal my alarm with a carefree smile. "No, why do you ask?"
"It's just that you never lock the door. And I've already memorized your agenda for the day. And I wasn't aware of any official meetings or calls."
"That's because this one was personal." Eager to hasten things along, I ask, "Was there something you needed me for?"
She nods quickly, almost excitedly. "Yes, you have a visitor."
"You memorized my itinerary for the day? I don't recall an appointment until nine?"
"Normally I would reject impromptu visits like this, but I think you will want to see him."
"Who?"
"Colton Vacheron."
My hands drop to the arms of the chair. "Let him in."
She nods and goes just outside the doorway to beckon him. A moment later, Colton Vacheron struts inside with sure-footed purpose, wearing a navy-blue Giorgio Armani suit, line wool and cashmere.
"Colton, this is a… welcome surprise."
I glance at Lauren to nod at her. She receives the cue and leaves.
"And it doesn't stop there," he says, slipping his hands into the pockets of his tailored pants. "Thought I'd take you out to breakfast. We have a lot to discuss." Something ominous in his tone, like he knows something he shouldn't.
"Do we?" Unease latches onto my spine, forcing me to sit straighter, feigning poise. "I would love to but—" I flick my wrist to check the time, "—I have an appointment in the next fifteen minutes."
"How unfortunate." Those green eyes, knife-like, they cut me open—his probing stare makes it feel like he can see every lie I have told and every secret I harbour. "Then I will make it brief. I was hoping to pitch my proposition to you last night at your dinner party, but you made yourself quite scarce."
I nod carefully, evaluating each word before I release them. "Yes, a new title comes with new responsibilities. I had a lot to take care of."
He responds with a knowing smile. "I'm sure you do." His eyes brighten with an untold intrigue. "However, I was pleased to see your children. They are models of sophistication, so mature and eloquent. Especially your daughter. She is certainly girded in grace, with a kindness rarely seen."
Irritation pricks me. I shift in my seat, mending my smile. "I'm sure you came all this way to talk about something more pressing than my daughter. What is it I can help you with?"
"She is part of it. Greatly," he states strongly. "And what I will propose will help both of us. Particularly for someone in your predicament."
A hot whip of panic. My smile falters. "And what predicament is that?"
He gives me this condescending slant of his head. He goes back to my door and closes it.
"Someone in dire financial straits." He turns back around to face me with a victorious smile, like he checkmated me. "Do you know what power affords me? People. And I have a network of informants that keep me apprised. I have eyes and ears everywhere. I know all about your troubles, Mayor."
I release the facade, slumping back into my seat defeatedly.
"Then you know there is no helping me."
"I beg to differ." He saunters forward, moving to claim the visitor's seat in front of my desk. "What you need, I have. And what I want, you have. So you see, we can help each other."
My desperation teetering the verge of caution, I say, "And what is it you want?"
"An alliance."
***
"Silas, calm down," Luciano says, struggling against his own anger.
"No!" He whips back around. "How can I when he sold off Avie like a damn whore!"
I wince as if struck. It hurts, but I deserve much worse.
I lift a placating hand. "I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I'm asking you to understand."
"As if there's a worthy reason for this," Luciano snaps, adding fuel to the fire. "Nothing justifies what you've agreed to. This is Avara's future we're talking about—her safety! And somehow you managed to put a price on that."
"You know why I did it," I yell back. "Don't act so shocked. My situation pushed me to this."
"A situation you put yourself in!" Silas screams back. "We told you not to get in bed with them from the jump."
"Dad?"
My eyes dart to Avara, her hand holding onto the door handle.
"What's going on in here?" She comes inside my home office. "The walls are shaking from all your shouting."
"We didn't wake you, did we?" Silas asks so tenderly, his anger extinguished like it was never lit.
She gives me a pointed look. "Couldn't sleep, anyway."
"Why don't you go back to bed," Luciano suggests. "We'll try to keep it down."
She sends him a defiant look. "Why thanks, daddies," she says with her tone soaked in sarcasm. She sets her eyes on me, curiosity gathering her brows. "Actually, I want to know what the fuss is about. Is this about last night?"
Silas frowns. "What about last night?"
Avara looks at me expectedly. But I don't know what she knows.
She sighs, almost disappointed. "I saw you arguing with someone last night. Who was he?"
I glance at my sons. "Botan," I inform.
Avara's eyes widen, and she gawks at her brothers. "You know him?"
Silas looks back at me scornfully. "Care to fill her in, dad number one?"
I heave out a heavy breath. "Your brothers know everything, and I made them promise to tell you nothing. It was to protect you, and I didn't want it to sully your image of me."
She smiles sweetly at me. "Nothing could ever do that," she says in a way that implies that I should know better.
"Let him finish," Luciano mutters.
"Long story short, I owe some bad people a lot of money."
She shrugs, confused. "Can't you just pay them back? You make enough. Plus, you can take out a loan to cover the shortfall," she says, so beautifully naïve. Innocent.
"More money than I can make in a lifetime," I confess. "I owe them more than money. I owe them my career. All those sizable donations to my campaign, the push for more votes, the funding for all my developmental projects in the city. It all comes from them."
Her face grows serious. "Who's them? The Mafia?"
"Worse." Shame drags my gaze to the floor. "The Yakuza, a transnational organized crime syndicate. They are everywhere, but nowhere. A criminal organization that operates in the shadows but controls everything in the light. And they hide all their illegal activities with legal fronts like investing into legit businesses and using people like me to get what they want. Whether it's grants, money laundering, access to property or unimpeded entry to our ports to traffic their… cargo."
Horror mounting on her face, she inhales a deep-drawn breath.
"You're a criminal…"
"No, he just works for one," Luciano says disdainfully.
"And you knew about this? The both of you?"
Her brothers avert their gaze. Their loyalty bears my shame.
"All this time," she breathes, shaking her head in disbelief. "All those rallies and conferences where you spoke about crime and corruption. All this time, you were serving such an entity?"
"That is who I am indebted to," I say, ripping off the band-aid. "The man you saw me with was Botan Kiyosaki. The wakagashira, the second-in-command of Haru Black—the most feared man in the crime world. He came over to tell me that my time is up."
She wipes her eyes roughly. "And so what if it is?"
"I don't care what they would do to me," I say with raw honesty. "But the Yakuza don't work like that. They will destroy what I love most. They can tarnish my reputation and legacy, but it is you three they will use to hurt me. Putting me in prison won't change that."
"I never said that," she mumbles.
Her voice cracks and my heart breaks.
"But it's what you deserve—excuse me."
She runs out of the office.
Silas burns me with a glare before he goes after her.
Luciano, the level-headed one, approaches me.
"How are you going to tell her that she's the only one that can save us?"