“You?”
He nodded.
“Quietly.”
The pieces of his strange life began rearranging themselves.
The sudden disappearance ten years ago.
The withdrawal.
The silence.
Our divorce.
The rumors that Alex had gone deeper into organized crime when perhaps—
“You became an informant.”
“Not exactly.”
Maya supplied the answer.
“He became a protected cooperating witness.”
Sophie stared.
“But everyone still calls you the Boss.”
“Reputation is useful.”
“Your criminal empire…”
“Mostly gone.”
“Mostly?”
Alex almost smiled.
“Warehouses are legal. Nightclubs are legal. Trucking is legal. People enjoy exaggerating.”
Maya snorted.
“You do nothing to discourage them.”
“It saves time.”
Despite everything, Sophie laughed.
A tiny laugh.
Then winced because of her ribs.
I hadn't realized how desperately I needed to hear that sound.
But another question remained.
“If Martin knew about the evidence,” I said, “why wait nineteen years?”
Alex's expression darkened.
“Because he didn't know where I hid it.”
Sophie whispered, “Until the condo.”
