Mara’s expression sobered.
“No. It doesn’t.”
“He wanted you to search him,” Bailey continued. “He wanted you to find the key.”
Stefan nodded slightly.
“A message.”
“Or an invitation.”
Alaric moved toward Bailey.
“You are not going to the customs house.”
She almost laughed.
“You no longer decide where I go.”
“You have no idea what is waiting there.”
“Do you?”
He stopped.
That was enough.
Bailey placed the key beside the ledger.
“We go tonight.”
“No,” Stefan said.
She turned on him.
“You brought me into this.”
“I brought you here because the transfer had to occur before the commission forced your father into bankruptcy.”
“And you hid my mother’s ledger inside the contract.”
“Yes.”
“You knew someone might come for it.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my mother was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then you do not get to decide which truth I’m allowed to face.”
Something changed in Stefan’s eyes. Not anger. Recognition.
Perhaps he had heard those words before.
From Evelyn.
“The customs house may be watched,” he said.
“Then we do not arrive like people who are hiding.”
Mara leaned against the table.
“What do you suggest?”
Bailey looked at the leather folder.
“The contract gives me control of Smith Shipping.”
“It does,” Stefan said.
“Then by morning, the transfer will be public.”
Alaric stepped forward.
“You cannot announce it without speaking to the board.”
“I control the board.”
“You have never met them.”
“Then the meeting is overdue.”
Bailey could hear the steadiness returning to her own voice. It felt unfamiliar but not false.
She turned to Stefan.
“I’ll call an emergency inspection of the customs house. Structural review, inventory, whatever is believable. We go with company employees, not armed men.”
“You want witnesses.”
“I want protection that does not look like a threat.”
Mara nodded.
“She’s right. If the commission is watching, secrecy only gives them room to act.”
Stefan looked displeased, which Bailey decided was not the same as unconvinced.
“The shooter may have been sent to separate us from the house,” he said.
“Then some of us remain.”
“Who?”
Bailey glanced at her father.
“Alaric.”
His face hardened.
“You would leave me here as a prisoner?”
“No. As a guest.”
Mara’s smile returned.
“A locked guest room can be arranged.”
Alaric turned to Stefan.
“You cannot permit this.”
Stefan’s gaze moved to Bailey.
“It is her company.”
Those four words settled something between them.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But perhaps the beginning of an agreement.