Corrupted Union(8)
Author: Jill Ramsower

 

“I would swear I heard a woman crying. Stetson said the three of us were the only ones home, but I would bet my life that the crying I heard came from the third floor of the house.”

 

Dad’s brows slowly rose to peak in the middle of his forehead. “And…?”

 

“And I don’t know. It felt … off. I’ve always gotten a strange vibe from him. I thought I’d ask if he was into anything … nefarious.”

 

Dad choked on a laugh. “Nefarious? I think your imagination has run away with you.”

 

I frowned, fighting back frustration. “I’m telling you, my gut says something’s not right.”

 

“If he was into anything bad, sweetheart, I would have cut ties long ago. My career is too important to associate with anyone questionable, even an old friend. And I certainly wouldn’t have encouraged you to go out with Stetson if I didn’t think highly of their family.”

 

I knew that’s what Dad would say. I wasn’t sure why I’d even brought it up. He genuinely trusted Lawrence Wellington, but I wasn’t sure that trust was well-placed. Though the two were friends in college, they hadn’t been close in a long time. Not like when they were younger.

 

“Okay,” I conceded, knowing I was fighting a losing battle. “Can I ask you something else?”

 

“Always.” He wouldn’t be so obliging when he heard who I wanted to talk about.

 

“Who was the man here last night?”

 

Dad stiffened. “That was Keir Byrne. His father runs one of the largest Irish crime families in the city.”

 

Oh shit. That explained a lot. Keir wasn’t just a thug—he was the real deal. A modern-day mobster. I knew that stuff still existed, but it was so much more discreet than it was in the movies or in the past when the Italian Mafia ruled the city. I wondered how much had changed from their perspective.

 

“Are they dangerous?” I would figure they were, though I’d never heard reports of assassinations or other gruesome crimes associated with organized criminals from the past.

 

“Absolutely, though times are different now. The internet especially has changed the nature of criminal activities. People can obscure themselves and make evidence tracing a nightmare.”

 

“Do people like that come to you often?” If so, that was one part of his job he had kept from me.

 

Dad’s head tilted a fraction. “Is that what this is? Are you worried about me? Because you shouldn’t be. I’m not scared of him or any others.” He stood and pulled me into his chest, holding me tight. “They try to intimidate on occasion, but they’re just posturing. I’ve faced far more dangerous men over at the capital, I’m sorry to say.”

 

“Is that my Ro?” Mom’s voice carried up the stairs before she came into view. “Two nights in a row. This is a pleasant surprise.”

 

“I just stopped in for a second,” I explained. “I have an early class in the morning.”

 

“My driver can take you back—and don’t even try to argue,” Dad insisted. “It’s dark out, and I’m already paying him to be on call. Might as well make use of him.”

 

I smiled and shook my head. Dad knew me too well. I hated having people do things for me when I was capable of doing stuff myself, but in this instance, a quiet ride home hidden behind tinted windows sounded like a welcome reprieve.

 

I said my goodbyes and slipped into the back of the governor’s official black Escalade. Thirty minutes later, I was in the elevator on my way to my apartment, eyes on my feet to avoid the mirrored walls. One mirror tonight was enough.

 

Once in my apartment, the quiet seemed to amplify the sound of sobs in my head. Why the hell couldn’t I let it go?

 

You know why.

 

I groaned aloud and flopped back onto my bed. Just because someone was crying didn’t mean anything. People cried all the time.

 

But what if she needs help?

 

My gut twisted, igniting a spark of anger. What was I supposed to do? Call the cops and tell them I thought I heard someone crying? They’d tell me just how ridiculous I was being.

 

Wouldn’t you rather look ridiculous than risk knowing you could have prevented something awful?

 

“You’re being insane!” My hollered words rang in my ears long after the walls absorbed the sound. “That could have been a damn TV playing for all you know.”

 

I desperately tried to quiet the maddening inner voice only to leave room for the haunting sight of Lawrance Wellington winking at me. Something was off about him. Always had been. If he hadn’t gone to college with my dad, I couldn’t imagine the two being friends, but Dad was loyal to his past. It was what made him such an excellent politician. I was far more suspicious by nature.

 

Who was Lawrence Wellington? Had I ever truly asked that question? His presence in my life had always been a given, so I’d never thought to look beyond what I’d learned growing up.

 

I went back into my living room and grabbed my laptop out of my backpack. Once it was booted up, I typed Lawrence Wellington into the Google search bar. The first search result was a Wikipedia page, followed by an article in Business Insider.

 

 

 

Ex-Banker Builds $10 Billion Fortune from Shipping Boom

 

 

 

 

 

Lawrence Wellington left his job in venture capital to buy out a failing shipping business. Decades later, he has one of the world’s largest maritime fortunes thanks to his company, Atlantic International Shipping (AIS).

 

Wellington’s savvy financial background enabled him to restructure the company in a way that kept business afloat. And after a twenty-million-dollar investment in rapid growth strategies, he soon forged one of the world’s largest container lines.

 

“The company grew like wildfire,” said Marshall Cranston, a London-based cargo analyst at research firm Venture Vessel. “AIS took decisive action in executing its growth strategies.”

 

A representative for New York-based AIS didn’t respond to a request for comment.

 

 

 

The article continued with details about the size of the company and outlined its recent endeavors. The Wellingtons were obnoxiously wealthy. I’d always known that—it was a big part of why Stetson didn’t take school seriously. I came from money as well, but I had decided on working with my father years ago, and that necessitated an exemplary school record. Stetson didn’t have any particular ambition. He didn’t see the point in school, but his father had been adamant that Stetson get his degree.