Chapter 3: The Last Night of Nathan DeLuca
The estate was quieter after midnight.
Not peaceful—controlled.
The kind of silence that existed only in places where powerful people pretended nothing was wrong.
Harper couldn’t sleep.
Neither could Enzo.
They met without agreeing to meet.
That was becoming a pattern.
He found her in the library.
She was standing in front of a shelf she hadn’t intended to study, fingers resting lightly against the spines of legal journals she had no interest in reading.
“You’re not sleeping,” Enzo said from behind her.
Harper didn’t turn around.
“Neither are you.”
A pause.
“I don’t sleep well in places I don’t trust,” he replied.
She finally turned.
“Then you must never sleep anywhere,” she said.
Something faint—almost amusement—crossed his expression.
Almost.
Then it disappeared.
“I found something,” he said.
That immediately changed the air.
Harper straightened slightly.
“What kind of something?”
Enzo stepped forward and placed a small file on the table between them.
“Security logs from the night Nathan died.”
Her breath slowed.
“Those were sealed.”
“They were,” he confirmed. “Until someone inside the system decided they weren’t anymore.”
Harper looked at the file but didn’t touch it.
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet,” Enzo said. “But they left a gap.”
“A gap in what?”
“In timing.”
He opened the file.
Pages of timestamps, location data, and vehicle movements filled the table between them like scattered evidence of a story neither family wanted reconstructed.
Enzo pointed.
“Nathan left the charity event at 10:48 p.m.”
Harper nodded slowly.
“That matches the official report.”
“It does,” Enzo said.
Then he flipped the page.
“But his phone was active again at 11:07.”
Harper frowned.
“That’s after the reported time of death.”
“Yes.”
A silence settled between them.
Harper leaned closer.
“Where was the signal coming from?”
Enzo slid another page forward.
Her eyes scanned it.
Then stopped.
Lake Forest.
She looked up at him immediately.
“That’s Whitcomb territory.”
Enzo didn’t respond right away.
“That’s what the logs say,” he replied.
Harper’s voice tightened slightly.
“So you think my family is lying?”
“I think your family is connected,” Enzo corrected. “That’s not the same thing.”
But it was close enough that neither of them missed the implication.
Harper stepped back.
“My father said Nathan’s death was a random attack,” she said.
Enzo’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“Did you believe him?”
The question wasn’t harsh.
But it wasn’t kind either.
Harper didn’t answer immediately.
Because the truth was complicated.
She didn’t trust her father.
But she also didn’t trust Enzo’s certainty.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she admitted quietly.
For the first time, something softened in Enzo’s expression.
Not sympathy.
Recognition.
“That’s the only useful starting point,” he said.
They left the library together twenty minutes later.
Not because they agreed.
Because neither of them could afford to investigate alone.
The estate’s restricted security room was located beneath the east wing.
Enzo accessed it using a code Harper didn’t recognize.
She watched carefully.
“You have full access here?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“Then how are we inside?”
He glanced at her briefly.
“Because someone else opened it for us.”
That made her pause.
“Who?”
Enzo didn’t answer.
Instead, he pulled up archived footage.
The screen flickered.
Black-and-white security recordings filled the room.
Nathan appeared.
Alive.
Walking through a parking structure the night he died.
Harper leaned closer instinctively.
“There,” Enzo said quietly.
A timestamp flashed in the corner.
11:12 p.m.
Harper frowned.
“That’s not consistent with the official timeline.”
“No,” Enzo said.
“It isn’t.”
On the screen, Nathan stopped near his car.
He looked around.
Not frightened.
Confused.
Like someone had asked him to meet under false assumptions.
Then another figure entered frame.
Harper stiffened slightly.
The angle was partially obscured.
But the posture was familiar.
Male.
Confident.
Familiar enough that something in her stomach tightened.
Enzo noticed her reaction.
“You recognize him?”
She hesitated.
“…Maybe.”
The figure and Nathan spoke briefly.
No audio.
Only body language.
Nathan stepped back once.
Then again.
Like he was disagreeing.
The second figure moved closer.
The exchange escalated.
Not dramatically.
Not violently.
But decisively.
Then Nathan turned away.
Walked back toward his car.
The screen flickered.
The footage cut.
Harper looked at Enzo sharply.
“That’s it?”
Enzo shook his head.
“No.”
He opened another file.
This one was audio recovery data.
Fragmented.
Distorted.
But enough.
A voice—Nathan’s—faintly emerged.
“…you told me this was just paperwork…”
Static.
Then another voice.
Unclear.
But present.
Harper leaned in.
“What is he saying?” she whispered.
Enzo listened carefully.
Then replied slowly:
“He thought he was meeting someone about financial documents.”
Harper’s eyes narrowed.
“And?”
Enzo hesitated.
Then said:
“But he wasn’t.”
Silence filled the room.
Harper straightened slowly.
“Then what was he meeting them for?”
Enzo looked at her.
“That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
A sound interrupted them.
Footsteps in the hallway above.
Harper stiffened immediately.
Enzo moved first, shutting the monitor down.
The room went dark except for emergency lighting.
They stood still.
Listening.
The footsteps stopped above the security room entrance.
A pause.
Then silence again.
Harper whispered:
“Someone followed us.”
Enzo shook his head slightly.
“No,” he said.
“They expected us.”
That was worse.
Harper turned toward him.
“Your estate has internal surveillance. Who else can access this room?”
Enzo’s expression darkened slightly.
“Three people,” he said.
Harper waited.
He continued:
“My adviser.”
A pause.
“And my father.”
Silence.
Then Harper said quietly:
“My father shouldn’t even know this room exists.”
Enzo looked at her.
“Then we have our first contradiction,” he said.
A beat.
“And contradictions mean someone is lying inside both our families.”
Later that night, they stood in separate ends of the corridor outside the security room.
Neither had left yet.
Harper spoke first.
“If Nathan wasn’t killed randomly…”
Enzo finished the sentence.
“Then he was part of something he didn’t understand.”
She nodded slowly.
“And we were brought together because of it.”
Enzo looked at her.
“Or because someone needed us both in the same place to control what comes next.”
That sentence hung between them.
Heavy.
Unresolved.
Harper studied him carefully.
“You don’t trust anyone,” she said.
Enzo didn’t deny it.
“I trusted my brother,” he said quietly.
A pause.
“That didn’t end well.”
Silence followed.
Then Harper said something softer.
“I don’t trust anyone either.”
A long moment passed.
Then Enzo nodded once.
“That might be the only reason this works.”
Far above them, unseen, a light turned on in a distant office of the estate.
A file was opened.
Nathan DeLuca’s name highlighted.
And a single line of text was updated:
“They are investigating.”
May you like
Below it, another line appeared:
“Proceed to next phase.”
