comes to demon deals, the possibilities are endless.”
“Where the rest of the contract?” she asked.
Dorian shook his head. “We’ve got files from one flash drive. This is likely just the tip of a very large, very dark iceberg.”
“Charles,” Cole said, halfway through another stack of papers on the table. “Was your daddy’s name Paul D’Amico, by any chance?”
Charley nodded, her heart stalling out as Cole passed over the stack.
“What is it?” Dorian asked.
“It looks like… copies of my father’s will.” She flipped through several pages of legalese. “Two different versions. In one version, he left everything to me. The penthouse, the artwork, his liquid assets—all of it.”
“But you said most of his assets went to Rudy,” Dorian said. “Unless—”
“Version two is a forgery. That’s how Rudy got his hands on everything.” Charley’s insides burned with anger. She wanted to kick herself for not realizing it sooner. “I should’ve known my father wouldn’t have left me high and dry like that, but at the time, I was just so out of it. I didn’t question anything.”
“You were heartbroken,” Dorian said gently. “Of course you didn’t.”
“Does the name Travis ring any bells?” Cole asked, picking up another sheet of paper. “Looks like he’s the one behind the forgery. Named here as an interested party—a human contractor brought in on the One Night Stand job and retained for Ravenswood.”
“Travis?” Charley sucked in a sharp breath. “But we didn’t meet him until about a year after my dad died.”
“According to this,” Cole said, turning to another page, “Whenever Estas sells something from One Night Stand, Rudy and Travis pocket the proceeds. Looks like they’ve got a similar deal set up for Ravenswood.”
Charley glanced down at the forged will again, tears blurring her vision as the bitter truth burned through her heart.
Rudy and Travis were behind her father’s murder.
She’d known. Deep down, she’d always known. She just hadn’t wanted to believe that her uncle could orchestrate the killing of his own brother.
But the forged will said it all.
Hell, a lot of things had said it all. They’d been saying it all—screaming it—for years. She’d just chosen to ignore it, shutting away her doubts and fears like she always did.
The confirmation was shocking, but Charley wasn’t surprised. Not really.
Now, in the darkest parts of her heart, there was only room for one response.
Terror.
“Rudy had my father killed,” she whispered. “What’s to stop him from doing the same to Sasha?”
“We are,” Dorian said firmly.
“All of us,” Aiden said, and Cole nodded too. “Charlotte, we’re going to get her back—safe and whole. You have to believe that.”
“Listen to me, love.” Dorian gripped her shoulders, gazing into her eyes with so much conviction, Charley had no choice but to believe what came next. “Regarding your uncle’s connection to Rogozin, his fixation on your mother, as well as his involvement in your father’s murder—I know it’s a lot to take in. But factually speaking, nothing has changed from a day ago or even five years ago. He’s been keeping these secrets the entire time. The only difference is we know about them now, which means we can do something about them. But only if we stay focused, and only if we don’t lose hope.” He leaned in close, whispering softly against her ear. “Everything is going to be all right. I promise you.”
Charley nodded. Dorian was absolutely right, and his firm, no-nonsense attitude was just what she needed right now.
“Something else ain’t adding up here,” Cole said, pulling another file up on one of the laptops. “There’s a separate spreadsheet with two very high bids for the same piece of art. Actually, it looks like these are wire transfers—they’re connected to offshore banks. Twenty million bucks apiece.”
“Twenty million?” Dorian asked. “For the same piece?”
“Serial number 87206.”
Charley scanned through the master list of the artwork. “It’s not here. There must be another file somewhere. Try searching for the number directly on the computer. I’ll see if I can track down the bidder names.”
“Is that typical?” Dorian asked. “Two payments for the same piece?”
“Not at all.” Charley reached for the second laptop, paging through the files. “Bids are one thing, but deposits and transfers mean a sale is pending. Estas and Rudy are either getting very sloppy, or they’re planning a double-cross.”
“Or both,” Aiden said.
“Found it.” Charley scanned through yet another list—names connected with banking details and wire transfer amounts—twenty million each. “And the lucky buyers are… Alexei Rogozin and Nikolai Chernikov.”
“You’ve got to be joking,” Dorian said, leaning in for a