Chapter 3 - The Ghost of Aaron
The library of the Carver mansion was a vast, two-story room filled with first-edition books, heavy green leather sofas, and a large fireplace that currently remained cold.
Arthur Whitlock stood near the hearth, his gold-headed cane tapping impatiently against the hardwood floor. His three bodyguards stood near the door, their hands resting inside their coats.
When Daniel entered, he did not offer his hand. He did not invite them to sit. He simply walked to his desk, poured himself two fingers of whiskey, and leaned against the mahogany edge.
“Your daughter is a sadist, Arthur,” Daniel said, his voice flat.
“Claire is high-spirited, Daniel,” Arthur dismissed with a wave of his hand. “She was merely disciplining a servant who was behaving suspiciously. We have reason to believe that girl, Hannah, has been snooping around the shipping files in the estate office.”
Daniel took a slow sip of his whiskey. “And why would a maid be interested in your shipping files, Arthur?”
Arthur’s eyes narrowed. “She’s Caleb Monroe’s sister. And she was married to Aaron Brooks—the mechanic who had an ‘accident’ on our loading dock three months ago. The girl is looking for someone to blame for her husband’s carelessness.”
“Aaron Brooks’s death was not an accident,” Daniel said, his voice dropping a register. “I’ve seen the coroner’s report, Arthur. The one your family tried to bury. Aaron had defensive wounds on his forearms. His skull was fractured before he went into the water.”
Arthur’s face flushed a deep, angry red. “Are you accusing my family of murder, Carver? We are your partners! The Whitlock shipping lines are the only reason your cargo moves through the north channel without federal inspection!”
“The shipping lines are mine,” Daniel corrected calmly. “Your family merely manages them under my grace. And that grace ended the moment your daughter laid a finger on Hannah.”
Arthur took a step forward, his cane slamming against the floor. “You’re calling off the engagement over a pregnant gutter-rat? The commission will never allow this, Daniel. Without the Whitlock alliance, the other families will see you as weak. They will suspect you’ve lost your mind over a woman.”
Daniel set his glass down on the desk with a quiet, controlled click.
“Let them suspect,” Daniel said. “But let them also remember what happened to the last man who mistook my patience for weakness.”
He looked past Arthur to the three bodyguards standing near the door.
“You have three seconds to leave my property,” Daniel said. “If you are still here when I finish counting, my men will carry you out in bags.”
The bodyguards looked at each other, their faces pale. Despite their training, they knew the legends of Daniel Carver. They knew he did not make empty threats.
“One,” Daniel said.
Arthur sneered, turning toward the door. “This isn’t over, Carver. You’ll find out soon enough that a maid cannot protect you from what’s coming.”
“Two,” Daniel said.
The doors slammed shut as the Whitlocks retreated into the rainy night.
Daniel stood in the quiet library for a long moment, the silence of the massive house pressing in on him. He picked up his glass, finished his whiskey, and walked toward the security monitors on the wall.
May you like
He zoomed in on the east wing corridor, watching the quiet door to his private suite.
He had to protect her. He had to protect their child. But to do that, he had to destroy the Whitlocks completely, and to do that, he needed to find the one thing Caleb Monroe had hidden before he vanished: the secret ledger that proved the Whitlocks were laundering money for a rival New York syndicate.
