It rang three times before he answered, his voice low and strained.

“Elena,” he said. “Are you safe?”

“We’re on the FDR,” I said. “Where are you?”

“I’m with Vivian,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “We’re heading to the townhouse. My father is waiting for us there.”

“Luke, he knows about the forgery,” I said, keeping my voice down so the driver wouldn’t hear. “Or at least, he knows someone is looking into it.”

“I know,” Luke said. “He called me five minutes ago. He wants me to sign the final restructuring papers today.”

“Are you going to do it?” I asked.

“I have to make him think I am,” he said. “If he thinks he’s won, he’ll let his guard down.”

I heard the sound of windshield wipers in the background of his call, a sharp, rhythmic squeak.

“Marco is already on his way to Queens,” Luke added. “We found the name of the notary who stamped the papers. A man named Donald Vance.”

My breath caught in my throat. “The Queens address.”

“What?” Luke asked.