Page 42 of Shattered Empire (Shattered World)

“Another set of evidence that had been suppressed was a pair of bloody shoe prints on the stairs,” he continued. “Pointed toes with no heel.”

“Stilettos,” I breathed. It was starting to come together. The puzzle pieces fit snugger and snugger as more of the picture was revealed. There was only one woman I could think of who had the means and motive to kill my mother.

Marianne.

My mother confided in her once, and then suddenly Elias found her again. I knew the note my father said she had left was utter bullshit. Even without seeing it, there was no way my mother would have left him. She loved him.

Looking back now, at all the times she discussed the love of her life, I knew it was him. It was always him. But why did she run to Portland instead of back to him?

What made her flee? Or more precisely, who?

Marianne could have easily driven the two hours to Portland to kill my mother, and no one would have been the wiser. She had the motive, too. Years of living in my mother’s shadow. The mafia princess with her fairy tale life and prince charming.

I glanced at my father out of the corner of my eye.

Nope. He wouldn’t take that well. I needed concrete proof before I could bring that bombshell to him. He hadn’t taken it so well the last time I brought my Marianne theory to him. Better to wait.

“What about the other cases you fudged?”

Abram sobbed, still clutching his bleeding knee. “They’re on the table. Every case I’ve ever manipulated. I kept proof in case they went back on their word.”

“Did you meet with anyone other than Cartwright?” Sully questioned.

“Jameson O’Neill,” he admitted with disgust. “Owns Platinum Security.”

“Anyone else?”

Abram shook his head. “No one I would know by name,” he said. “There was an older gentleman with a cane I ran into a few times when I met with O’Neill or Cartwright, but he never introduced himself.”

Flipping through my phone, I found what I was looking for. “Does he look like this?” I showed him the screen.

Abram nodded. “That’s him.”

“Good.” I tucked the phone away. “Thank you for the information.” I aimed my gun at him.

“Wait,” he pleaded. “My family.”

My eyes softened. “I was never going to hurt them.”

“They will, though.”

“Then know I will protect them,” I promised. “But no one can protect you.”

The trigger gave way under my finger.

Abram was dead, and I was one step closer to avenging not only Matthias, but my mother as well.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“She was flirting with you.” I scrunched my nose in disgust as the woman in question walked away. Tall, blond, and stacked. It was definitely his type before he married me. Even if they were mostly Vivian’s paid whores. My husband was sex on wheels. The flesh version of Adonis, all muscle and sinew. He was a machine. Powerfully built. Women were going to stare.

Few of them had the nerve to approach him directly. This one had the gall to proposition him while I was sitting at the table. It had taken everything in me not to skewer her with my Christian Louboutin’s. Matthias clearly saw my irritation. He winked at me and turned on the charm. Fuck, I was waiting for the woman to hand over her panties.

“I’ll be in room 403 if you decide you have some free time.” The falsetto mocking made me sound like a child, but I didn’t care. She sounded like she’d been sampling the helium from the fake peckers her surgeon put in her chest.

“You’re jealous.” Matthias beamed at me. His stormy eyes shone with amusement, twinkling in the lights. Fuck yeah, I was jealous. I wasn’t going to tell him that, though.

“Pfft,” I huffed and took a sip of my champagne. “No.”

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