Chapter 1: Before the investigation
The Bellweathers arrived at the gala in a plume of exhaust and nervous energy. The building, a spear of black marble and arrogant glass, swallowed the downtown skyline. Its facade threw back the city’s neon glow in cold, rippling shards.
Ethan adjusted his cufflinks, a nervous tic. “Remember, we’re just being polite. We thank him for the invitation, we leave early.”
Gina smoothed the emerald silk of her dress over her hips, her smile placid. “It’s a charity event, Ethan. For the children’s hospital. Try to look like you’re not hunting for indictments.”
In the backseat, Belinda let out a short laugh. “Dad’s face only has two settings: determined and deeply suspicious.” She was a vision in crimson, the dress cut to emphasize every curve of her athletic frame. Beside her, Ariel fussed with the strap of her own black gown, her dark eyes wide. “It’s so tall,” she murmured, gazing up at the tower.
“That’s the point,” Belinda said, linking her arm through Ariel’s. “Impressive. Intimidating.”
The lobby was a cathedral of wealth. Polished marble floors echoed with the clack of heels and the low, solid murmur of deals being murmured over champagne flutes. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine perfume and aged whiskey. A string quartet played somewhere, the sound seeming to seep from the walls themselves. Ethan felt it immediately—the hum. Not just from the hidden speakers, but from the people. A low thrum of unquestioned power.
They were ushered into a penthouse ballroom where glass walls showcased the city as a glittering toy. And there, at the center of a deferential circle, was Ricardo Alvarez.
Malvado.
He wasn’t what Ethan expected. He was handsome, forties, with silver threading his temples and a smile that seemed to genuinely reach his warm, brown eyes. He wore his tuxedo with an easy grace, and when he shook Ethan’s hand, the grip was firm, dry, and lingered just a moment too long.
“Ethan Bellweather,” Malvado said, his voice a rich, smooth baritone. “The Tribune’s pitbull. I’ve read your series on zoning corruption. Admirable work. Ruthless, but admirable.”
“Ricardo,” Ethan said, forcing a smile. “Thank you for having us. This is my wife, Gina. My daughter, Belinda. And her friend, Ariel.”
Malvado’s gaze traveled over each of them, a leisurely assessment that felt more intimate than a touch. It settled on Gina. “A pleasure. Your husband is a man of fierce principle.” He took Gina’s hand, not shaking it, but simply holding it. “A rare thing in this city.”
Gina blushed. A faint, pretty pink that crept up her throat.
He turned to Belinda and Ariel. “And these two. Stunning. Absolutely stunning. Do you model?”
Belinda smirked, tilting her head. “Academically. Pre-law.”
“A waste,” Malvado said, his laugh soft. “Such… presence should be seen. My agency is always looking for fresh talent. The kind that radiates intelligence, not just a pretty face. You should come by the studio. Both of you. Let’s see what the cameras think.”
Ariel, usually so shy, found her voice. “An agency? Here?”
“The entire top three floors,” Malvado said, waving a hand. “Designer ateliers, photographers, life coaches. A full ecosystem. It’s where potential is sculpted into legend.” His eyes slid back to Ethan. “But forgive me. You’re not here to talk about fashion. Please, enjoy the evening. The bar is stocked with everything you could dream of.”
He moved away, a king gliding back to his throne.
“See?” Gina whispered, sipping her champagne. “Charming. Philanthropic. You’ve got the wrong guy, Ethan.”
Ethan watched him work the room. Every laugh was perfectly timed, every touch on an arm deliberate. “That’s exactly what he wants everyone to think,” he muttered.
Later, by the panoramic windows, Ethan overheard two men in bespoke suits.
“—handles the shipments through the new port authority contracts. Clean as a whistle.”
“The man’s a ghost. You never see him, you just see the money. And the bodies, if you cross him.”
The men noticed Ethan’s attention and melted into the crowd.
His blood was up. A hunter’s pulse. He found Gina by the ornate ice sculpture, now talking animatedly with Belinda and Ariel.
“We have to go,” Ethan said.
“So soon?” Gina pouted. “Belinda and Ariel were just telling me about Malvado’s offer. The modeling thing. It sounds incredible.”
“It’s not happening.”
Belinda’s face hardened. “Why not? It’s a legitimate agency. It’s not like we’d be bar dancers, Dad. This is high-fashion. Editorial.”
“You’re pre-law.”
“And I can be more than one thing! God, you always do this. You see a risk, a world you don’t control, and you shut it down.”
Ariel placed a gentle hand on Belinda’s arm. “It’s okay. It was just a thought.”
But Gina’s eyes had a new, unfamiliar glint. “Actually, Ethan… what if it’s a good idea?”
He stared at her. “What?”
“Hear me out,” she said, lowering her voice. “You want to know what he’s really about. You can’t get in there, not with your name. But if the girls are working with him… you’d have a reason to be around. To see things. To… pick up the vibe.”
Ethan felt the ground shift. The logic was perverse, but it had a twisted currency. He looked at his daughter, radiant and defiant. At Ariel, sweet, devoted Ariel, who watched him with an earnestness that sometimes unsettled him. He thought of the whispers, the ghost, the bodies.
“Never,” he said.
They returned home and the three women began acting unusually, trying to convince Ethan about the modeling plan.