Chapter 4 - THE ARCHITECT’S DAUGHTER
Harper stared at the crime boss sitting beside her bed.
"You're insane," Harper gasped. "The Maritime Bank is a federal landmark! It's guarded by thirty private security officers and automated silent alarms!"
"I am fully aware of the bank's security," Gideon said without blinking. "Which is why I need the original architect's private pass-codes. The ones your father recorded in his leather-bound journal."
Harper turned her head away toward the window, her heart racing.
She remembered that journal.
It was a small, brown leather notebook her father had given her right before he passed away from cancer. He had told her it was his life's work—a detailed breakdown of every structural secret, hidden ventilation shaft, and mechanical vulnerability of Portland's oldest bank vaults.
She had kept it hidden inside a hollowed-out dictionary in her storage unit across town.
"Why do you need that ledger so badly?" Harper asked, turning back to him.
"Because my uncle's former associates are using that ledger to blackmail my business partners," Gideon explained, his tone deadly serious. "If that ledger falls into the hands of the federal authorities, fifty men who work for me will go to prison. Including myself."
Gideon stood up, walking to the fireplace and looking into the flames.
"I gave you protection last night, Harper," Gideon said softly. "I destroyed the man who broke your body. I gave you a safe haven, a top surgeon, and a future free of fear."
He turned to face her, his broad shoulders silhouette against the fire.
"In my world, nothing is free. You have three weeks until your leg heals enough to walk with a cane. During those three weeks, you will study those blueprints with me. You will teach me how to breach Vault 404."
Harper looked at the plaster cast on her leg.
She thought about her tiny, cramped apartment. She thought about Tyler's violent rages. She thought about the endless fear she had lived with for two years.
Here, in this fortress, she was safe from Tyler. But she was stepping into a world of grand-scale criminality.
"And after we get the ledger?" Harper asked boldly. "What happens to me?"
Gideon walked back to the bed, leaning down until his dark face was inches from hers.
The scent of cedar and rain enveloped her again.
"After we get the ledger," Gideon promised softly, "I will give you two million dollars in clean cash, a new identity if you want it, and complete freedom to go anywhere in the world."
Harper looked into his deep grey eyes. She saw no deceit there—only cold, absolute determination.
"Where is the notebook?" Gideon asked.
Harper took a deep breath.
"Public Storage on 4th Avenue," Harper said. "Unit 112. The blue dictionary on the top shelf."
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Gideon smiled—a rare, devastatingly handsome smile that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Mark," Gideon called out toward the door. "Go fetch Ms. Sloan's dictionary."
