“Luke,” I said. “He wants us to go straight to the apartment in Brooklyn.”

I looked at the driver, a quiet man named Greg whom Marco trusted implicitly.

“Greg,” I said, leaning forward. “Change of plans. Take us to Queens.”

Nadia gasped, grabbing my arm. “Elena, no. You heard him. It’s too dangerous.”

“If we don’t get that ledger, Arthur wins,” I said. “He will take my baby, Nadia. He will use those forged papers to prove I abandoned the family.”

She stared at me, her lips parted, but she didn’t argue further.

She knew as well as I did what Arthur Mercer was capable of.

Greg met my eyes in the rearview mirror, his expression neutral.

“Queens, ma’am?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “The industrial park near Borden Avenue.”

He nodded once and flicked the turn signal, steering the heavy SUV toward the bridge.

Meanwhile, miles away in Manhattan, Luke was entering the lions’ den.

He told me later how the rain looked against the limestone facade of the Mercer townhouse on East 64th Street.

How Vivian had walked beside him, her heels clicking sharply on the wet marble steps.