Chapter 5 - THE WIFE HE NEVER BOUGHT
Z
Gabriel thought Eleanor was joking.
She was not.
“No.”
They stood alone in his library after Nathan took Lily upstairs.
Eleanor crossed her arms.
“You wanted a plan.”
“Not that one.”
“Why?”
“Because twelve hours ago you were limping through a cathedral because men connected to me threatened your family.”
“Exactly.”
Gabriel stared.
She continued.
“Julian wanted the marriage.”
“He wanted control of the marriage.”
“Then let him think he got it.”
“No.”
“Stop saying no like that ends conversations.”
“It usually does.”
“With terrified employees?”
“With everyone.”
“I’m not your employee.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“No.”
“Not your debtor either.”
“No.”
“Not your property.”
His expression hardened.
“Never.”
Something changed in Eleanor’s face.
Only slightly.
But he saw it.
She nodded.
“Good. Then we’re negotiating.”
Gabriel should have refused.
Instead, twenty minutes later, they were at the library table with legal pads.
Eleanor’s plan was simple in theory.
Announce that the ceremony had been delayed because of her injury.
Say the marriage had occurred privately later that evening.
Let Julian believe Gabriel remained committed to the original arrangement.
Then use the false sense of security to draw out whoever was still working with him inside the organization.
Gabriel hated it.
Which was different from thinking it was bad.
“What does Julian gain if we marry?” Eleanor asked.
“Public control.”
“Explain.”
“The older families think in alliances. My marriage changes succession assumptions, business loyalties, leverage.”
“You don’t have children.”
“No.”
“So a wife matters.”
“Yes.”
“And Julian picked me because I have no power.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“He thought you had no power.”
“Then let him keep thinking it.”
Gabriel tapped the table.
“There’s one problem.”
“What?”
“A marriage record is public.”
Eleanor shrugged.
“So marry me.”
Gabriel stopped moving.
She looked almost amused.
“You look more frightened than you did during the shooting.”
“I’m not frightened.”
“Your face disagrees.”
“I will not marry you because Julian threatened you into it.”
“Then don’t.”
“You just said—”
“Marry me because I asked.”
Gabriel stared.
Eleanor’s voice softened.
“For thirty days.”
“That is not how marriage works.”
“Prenup. Separate assets. Automatic annulment filing prepared in advance. No shared finances. No obligations after the investigation.”
“You researched this quickly.”
“I was almost sold into marriage this morning. I’ve been thinking about contractual weaknesses all day.”
Gabriel leaned back.
“You would voluntarily marry a criminal.”
“You would voluntarily marry a motel manager.”
“Former motel manager.”
“See? We’re both making sacrifices.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
The sound surprised both of them.
By noon the next day, Chicago learned that Gabriel Moretti and Eleanor Shaw had married in a private ceremony at his Lake Forest home.
The photographs showed Eleanor seated because of “an ankle injury sustained before the cathedral ceremony.”
Gabriel stood beside her.
No kiss.
No crowd.
Father Anthony performed the vows.
Rosa cried anyway.
Thirty-day agreement.
It should have felt like business.
Gabriel had signed contracts worth hundreds of millions with less hesitation.
But when Father Anthony asked Eleanor whether she came freely, the room changed.
She looked directly at Gabriel.
“Yes.”
He felt the word like a blow.
Later, after everyone left, Eleanor found a garment bag outside her room.
Inside was no designer gown.
Jeans.
Sweaters.
Flat shoes.
Her own clothes from her apartment.
A note from Gabriel.
No more costumes.
She read it twice.
That evening they received the first response.
Julian called.
Gabriel placed the phone on speaker.
“Congratulations.”
Julian sounded relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Gabriel sat at his desk.
Eleanor stood beside the window where Julian could not hear her breathing.
“You left my wedding.”
“You humiliated me in front of the city.”
“You’ll survive.”
“I always do.”
Julian paused.
“How is Eleanor?”
Gabriel looked at her.
“My wife is fine.”
Another pause.
There.
A reaction.
Tiny.
But real.
“Good,” Julian said. “I was worried.”
“You sent men to shoot at her.”
Silence.
Then Julian laughed.
“You’re emotional.”
“You taught me better.”
“I taught you everything better.”
Gabriel’s eyes hardened.
“Where are you?”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“No.”
Eleanor wrote something on a pad and turned it toward Gabriel.
ASK ABOUT BLUEBIRD.
Gabriel shook his head once.
Too direct.
She wrote again.
FATHER.
Gabriel understood.
“I found something interesting today.”
“Oh?”
“Thomas Shaw.”
The line went silent for three full seconds.
Then Julian said, “Who?”
Gabriel smiled.
“You’re getting old.”
“I don’t know every nobody who crosses your desk.”
“Funny.”
“What is?”
“You picked his daughter.”
Julian disconnected.
Marco traced the call for twenty-eight seconds.
Not enough for an address.
Enough for a region.
Milwaukee.
They left after dark.
Gabriel wanted Eleanor to stay behind.
He did not waste time arguing.
Bluebird Shipping occupied three acres of industrial property beside the Menomonee River.
Half abandoned.
One warehouse operating.
Lights glowed on the third floor.
Marco’s team entered through two points.
Gabriel and Eleanor remained in the command SUV.
For four minutes.
Then gunfire cracked from inside.
Gabriel reached for the door.
Eleanor grabbed him.
“You have people.”
“My people are inside.”
“And their entire job is making sure you don’t run toward bullets.”
Gabriel glared.
She glared back.
Marco’s voice came through the radio.
“Building secure. One wounded. We found someone.”
Gabriel and Eleanor entered.
The warehouse smelled of dust, diesel and cold metal.
Marco met them beside an office.
His face looked strange.
“Mrs. Moretti.”
Eleanor hated the name less than she expected.
“What?”
Marco opened the door.
An older man sat in a chair.
Thin.
Gray hair.
Hands shaking.
Eleanor stopped.
The world seemed to disappear around her.
“Dad?”
Thomas Shaw looked up.
Nine years collapsed.
His face broke.
“Ellie.”
She crossed the room.
Thomas stood.
They collided.
Eleanor made a sound Gabriel would remember for the rest of his life.
Not a cry.
Not a scream.
Something between grief and relief.
Nathan arrived twenty minutes later.
There were no words for that reunion.
Afterward Thomas told them the story.
He had worked as a bookkeeper for a freight company owned by Anthony Moretti.
He discovered the trafficking network.
He tried to go to federal authorities.
Someone inside the investigation leaked his name.
Julian found him first.
Instead of killing him, Julian offered a bargain.
Disappear.
Stay silent.
His children live.
Thomas agreed.
For nine years he was moved between properties and forced to maintain the hidden ledgers.
“Why keep you alive?” Gabriel asked.
Thomas looked at him.
“Because your mother made him.”
Gabriel froze.
“Lucia found out. She threatened to expose everything if Julian killed me.”
“She protected you?”
“She protected my children.”
Thomas looked at Eleanor.
“Your mother wasn’t the only reason I disappeared.”
Eleanor stepped backward.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas reached into his shirt.
He removed an old chain.
On it hung a tiny silver medal.
Gabriel recognized it.
His mother had worn the same one.
Thomas looked at Gabriel.
“Lucia Moretti knew Eleanor before you did.”
Eleanor frowned.
“How?”
Thomas’s eyes filled.
“Because when your mother was dying, Eleanor was the one person she trusted to carry the final evidence out of Chicago.”
Eleanor stared at him.
“I never met Lucia Moretti.”
Thomas shook his head.
“Yes, you did.”
Then he said the name of the woman Eleanor had known nine years ago as Mrs. Moreau.
May you like
The lonely cancer patient who rented Room 108 at the Prairie Star for six weeks.
The woman who taught Eleanor how to tie a blue ribbon.
