“I know enough to understand that you nearly lost it.”
“It is more complicated than that.”
“It always is when you explain your failures.”
“Bailey.”
Her name sounded like a warning, but it no longer carried the same weight. Perhaps because Stefan’s men stood nearby. Perhaps because Alaric no longer controlled the doors.
Or perhaps because Bailey had finally seen fear in his eyes.
Stefan held out his hand.
“The ledger.”
She drew it closer to her chest.
“No.”
The refusal surprised both of them.
Stefan studied her for a moment. Then he lowered his hand.
“It may contain information that puts everyone here in danger.”
“It has my mother’s name on it.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then you’re also aware it belongs to me.”
“I’m aware that ownership and safety are not always the same thing.”
Bailey met his gaze.
He was accustomed to being obeyed. She could see it in the stillness of his posture, in the patience that did not feel like patience at all. Yet he did not attempt to take the ledger.
That restraint unsettled her more than force would have.
“What is the commission?” she asked.
Alaric looked toward the sealed windows.
Stefan’s face revealed nothing.
Bailey waited.
When neither man answered, she laughed once.
It was not a pleasant sound.
“You brought me here under a false marriage agreement, gave me control of a company I have never been allowed to enter, hid my mother’s book inside the contract, and now someone is shooting through your walls.” She held the ledger tighter. “I think I’ve earned a complete sentence.”
Stefan turned to the men around them.
“Clear the room.”
Within seconds, everyone moved toward the hall. The injured guard objected until Stefan gave him a look. Then he left as well.
Only Bailey, Stefan, and Alaric remained.
Rain struck the steel-covered windows in a soft, steady rhythm.
Stefan walked to the fireplace.
“The commission is not a government office,” he said. “It is a private council formed by shipping families after the war. Officially, it settles disputes, protects trade routes, and prevents outside investors from destroying local ports.”
“And unofficially?”
“It decides who is allowed to survive.”
Bailey looked at her father.
He stared into the fire.
Stefan continued. “The commission controls insurance firms, harbor permits, customs brokers, and several banks. No single member owns enough to attract attention. Together, they can stop a vessel from leaving port without ever issuing an order.”
“Smith Shipping was part of it?”
“Your grandfather was.”
“My mother?”
Stefan’s eyes dropped briefly to the ledger.
“She investigated it.”
Alaric turned from the fire.
“That is enough.”
Bailey almost smiled at the absurdity of his command.
“Enough for whom?”
“You do not know what you are asking.”
“That has never stopped you from answering on my behalf.”
“I was protecting you.”
The room seemed to narrow around those words.
Bailey looked at him carefully.
“From what?”
Alaric said nothing.
Stefan’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent too.
Bailey stepped closer to her father.
“Mother died in a boating accident.”
Alaric’s face changed.
Not much. A faint movement near his mouth. A blink that came too late.
Bailey’s heartbeat slowed.
It was the same sensation she had felt as a child when she opened a door and found adults suddenly quiet. The same awareness that truth had been present moments before she entered the room.
“She did die in an accident,” Alaric said.
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“You didn’t ask a question.”
“Then here it is. Was my mother investigating the commission when she died?”
Alaric looked toward Stefan.
Stefan did not help him.
Finally, Alaric exhaled.