Harry was staring down at a document filled with numbers, both monetary and account/routing. His expression was a quiet confusion, although he knew exactly what he was looking at. He had been the one to put them there.
"I don't know what this is." He frowned, looking up at the two individuals responsible for auditing the business. "I've never seen these accounts."
"They don't look familiar to you?" One asked.
He blinked innocently, taking a look longer at the numbers in front of him, then shook his head slowly and pushed the folder away, "No, what is this?"
They looked at one another. Harry kept up the act.
"Who all has access to these secured accounts?" They slid over another document. This one had accounts that were directly connected to a venture that his father spearheaded.
"These?" He glanced up at them before picking up the documents and flipping through them, "Uh, our CFO, accounting manager, myself, and my father. I think that's it."
"When was the last time you've requested transfers for any these accounts?" The woman asked.
He knew the exact date. Harry had made sure that his footprints were only traceable where he wanted them.
"Maybe last summer? Whenever we acquiesced the Waterton properties. We allocated funds to support the transition. I think it was late June or early July. I had to sign off on it." He said.
They looked at each other once more, this time longer. The man cleared his throat, "Thank you for your time today."
"Yeah, of course," He tipped his head, "I'm here to help. Is there anything else you need?"
"No, you've been a real help." The woman smiled at him.
They said polite goodbyes, Harry leaving the conference room they've coopted for their investigation. The moment they were out of sight, he let his face drop. He was overexerting himself by coming in today, but nothing could be done about that. It was a necessary step in convincing the city he was okay. Showing weakness would do nothing but paint an even bigger target on his back.
When the elevator closed and he was completely alone, he slumped against the wall, holding his stomach. The pain medication that Dr. O'Brien gave him was up in his office. Harry didn't like taking it too much, not wanting to numb his mind in case something were to happen, but he would need something in order to get through the rest of the day. He could already imagine Ivy's disapproval if he got home and collapsed in pain.
Before the elevator opened to his floor, he straightened up, and masked his face. His assistant, Allison, was at her desk. She was texting someone on her phone, frowning at it, until she heard his footsteps.
Immediately, she put it down, straightened up, and smiled at him, "Hello, boss. How'd your meeting go?"
In case anyone was watching, he responded, "It was interesting."
"You've got a call from a Mr. Dev Patil." She told him, "He said he couldn't reach you on your phone."
Harry's phone was currently in his office. It must be important for Dev to call the office number to get ahold of him.
"And Griffin is waiting for you inside your office." She finished.
"Thank you, Allison." He said politely, "Why don't you take a long lunch? On me."
She blushed, looking pleased, "Thank you, Mr. Styles. Do you need anything while I'm out?"
"I'm okay, thank you."
Griffin was sitting inn the armchair opposite his desk, his leg bouncing nervously. The large man looked up at him, face stolid, but he could sense an uncertainty in his lieutenant's gaze.
Harry didn't say anything at first, making his way to his desk and opening the drawer to his left. A small bottle with a fake ibuprofen label hid his pain meds. He tipped two into his palm and dry swallowed them.
"How are you feeling?" Griffin's frown deepened.
"Like I was stabbed." Harry replied dryly, "What's wrong?"
"What makes you think something's wrong?"
He raised an eyebrow at that. "I know you well enough."
"I'm looking into buying a new house."
That wasn't what Harry had been expecting.
"You are?"
He nodded, "Something bigger. More central to you and Ivy just in case."
Something bigger. It clicked in Harry's head after a long moment.
"Ah," he sat back, closing his eyes as he adjusted to the movement. Breathing out steadily, he looked back at Griffin, "Things have changed between you and your informant then?"
He swallowed, "Yes."
Harry studied him. He knew this man well. Well enough that he knew Griffin would never do something as stupid as fall for an informant. That was unless it meant something more.
"I can put you in touch with the agent who found us our place." Harry told him.
Griffin sat in silence. Then, "Is that it?"
"Is what it?" He questioned, turning his attention to his computer.
"I've broken the cardinal rule."
"Exactly." Harry frowned at an email he just received, "Which means you know exactly what the consequences of said relationship might entail. What it might mean if things go bad. You wouldn't be making that decision if you didn't think the reward outweighed the risk."
"I lo-" He cut himself off, "I care for her. In a way I didn't realize existed."
Harry nodded, knowing that feeling all too well. "I understand."
"Are you worried about it affecting my duties?" He asked.
"No." Harry answered truthfully, "You've never given me a reason to doubt your abilities and commitment to the job."
Griffin looked momentarily uncertain of that fact, but nodded his head once in acceptance. "Thank you."
Then Griff's phone buzzed. He took it out of his pocket and read the text. "Dev is asking if I'm with you."
"Right. He called me earlier, and I haven't had a chance to speak with him yet."
"Wasn't he meeting with Greta Bianchi today?"
Harry tensed, "Yes."
His phone was lit up with five missed calls from Dev and a few texts telling him to call him as soon as possible. With his heart rate picking up, Harry called him back.
"Finally." Dev's exasperated voice answered after one ring.
"What's going on?" Harry asked.
"I need you to come over to my place." He said, "I've got Greta and Angelo here and you need to know something."
"I'm on my way." Harry stood up, bracing his free hand on the desk as a shooting pain ripped up his side.
"Is Griffin with you?"
"Yes." He hissed.
"Good. Cause I think someone followed us."
†††
They were at Dev's in less than ten minutes. He had told them of the dark SUV that was tailing them the whole way home, but they couldn't find any trace of it now. Griffin rounded the block three times before parking in order to make sure.
Nerves wrecked Harry's system, not sure what to expect. Dev had said they needed to speak with him, and whatever it was was urgent enough to earn an asap text.
Dev's place was highly secured, his systems set up by him, so before they even got a chance to knock at his door, it was opening. Dev stepped aside for them.
"We didn't see anything suspicious outside." Griffin told him, "If someone was following, then they are long gone now."
"I still don't like the fact that they followed us back here." Dev sighed, "If it's that Peters guy who ran the strip club, then he knows where I live and that you are interested in the Bianchi heirs for some reason."
"If they start digging, they'll figure it out." Griffin said, "Cat found all the necessary evidence because of the spiders. Peters has at least half the spiders in his pocket. They'll think to search their records for some connection."
"Or they'll strike first." Harry added, "Where are they?"
Dev didn't move from his spot, "Be easy on her, okay? She's been through a lot these past few days, and isn't used to dealing with your... surliness."
His friend's warning did nothing but worry him more. Without answering, Harry swept past him, and entered into the living room. Greta and Angelo were speaking in low whispers near the large bay window. When Angelo saw him, he tensed, shutting up quickly.
Greta turned carefully, an icepack held to her side, and sighed, "Hello, Harry."
His eyes were glued to that ice pack, "What happened?"
"It's really not that-"
"I said," he gritted out, closing the gap between them, "what happened?"
Burning rage simmered inside him. She was obviously hurt. Someone had gotten to her. Wild theories flew through his mind, wondering if someone somehow knew who their father was and that they were related to Harry. Was the attack on Harry just a way to distract him from Greta? Or was this because he had allowed Greta to become more involved? Did the wrong person see her leaving his car that day? Did they want to stop an alliance from forming?
"Harry," Dev warned, but he wasn't listening.
It was when Angelo stepped in front of his sister, squaring off against him, that he pulled back some of his anger. He needed to direct it somewhere other than his sister.
"Don't speak to her like that." Angelo demanded with surprising courage. He was a lanky little thing who probably couldn't so much as bruise Harry.
Harry breathed out roughly through his nose, "Greta."
"Look," she started, "it's just a small bruise."
Dev grunted.
"It's really not that bad. I don't know why Dev took us here." She could barely look at him.
Harry balled up his fists, but expelled most of his anger that instant. He wasn't helping things. "Greta, I'm sorry for coming on so strong." He caught her eye, "I just want to make sure you're okay."
She frowned, probably wondering why he cared in the first place.
Dev came up beside Harry, and spoke softly, "Greta, I know it's hard to admit, but he needs to know."
She still hesitated.
"Greta, stop with this fucked up sense of loyalty you have for her." Angelo turned to her, "He might be able to help."
"Help with what?" She shot back, "We're safe-"
"Oh, come on, you know as much as I do that we're only safe until she decides she wants us back."
Greta pursed her lips, thinking. Harry could imagine how insane it felt to them to trust him. He could only imagine the bullshit their mother spewed of him throughout the years. The bitter bitch always hated the fact that he was a product of Patrick and another woman. Thinking about it now, he wondered if some of that open hatred was due to the fact that Greta had been born just months after Harry. Isabella Bianchi could have stolen two seats in the circle, giving birth to a Bianchi and Styles heir.
She sighed, "Fine. But we need to make a deal first."
"I'm listening."
Greta glanced back at her brother, then tugged at Harry's arm to move them away. He frowned, but followed.
Once they were down the hall, far enough away that they couldn't hear them speaking, Greta lowered her voice to say, "I want you to keep Angelo safe."
"Why does he need to be kept safe in the first place?" He asked, not liking this at all.
She huffed out in frustration, combing back her hair and revealing for the first time her other hand. There was a brace on her wrist and he could see two of her fingers bruised and slightly swollen.
"Did someone attack you?" He demanded.
"Seriously?" Greta groaned, "Make the promise and I'll tell you what happened."
There was no way he wasn't going to keep Angelo safe even without this deal. The moment he learned that they were his blood, he made a vow to protect them as family.
"Of course, I will." He said impatiently.
"He's going to try and get involved in all this to keep me safe," Greta continued, "but when it gets out that I've aligned myself with you, she'll come after me. I don't want him in the firing line."
"Greta," Harry tried to reign in his anger, "I'm not letting anyone near him. Or you. You're apart of this deal too."
She looked a little confused as to why he cared this much, but nodded, "Fine, whatever."
"Tell me." He said again, "Now."
"Geez, bossy much?" She muttered under her breath, fidgeting under his intense stare. She took the icepack and placed it on her knuckles. "Last week when we met, one of our factories was burnt down. All our men were killed, execution style before, so we know it wasn't an accident. My mother took it hard."
She paused, refusing to look Harry in the eye, "I think she must have went out that night, drank, got high, before coming back to the house. When I got back, she was waiting for me at the top of the stairs. I didn't see her until she was right there in front of me, or else I would have stayed clear. She's... hard to deal with when in that state."
"You've got experience with that?" Harry gathered.
Greta looked incredibly uncomfortable, and he knew he had hit the nail on the head. This was something she had been dealing with for a very long time, just as he had with his father.
"It's becoming more and more common." She said, "The paranoia heightens when she's like that. She started to accuse me of knowing something, of working with other people to force her out. She kept rambling about how I wanted her status and to be head of the family, and I tried to reason with her, but then she grabbed me and I'm not good with physical confrontation. I mean, I'm not good with confrontation at all so I was stuttering all over the place."
"What did she do?" Harry gritted out, feeling more hatred towards Isabella Bianchi than he had his entire life. The woman was always a piece of work, and he thought he hit his limit when she spoke ill of his wife, but hurting her own children, Harry's goddamn blood, he wanted to kill her.
Greta swallowed, obviously not liking reliving the moment in her head, "She pushed me back. Down the stairs."
Harry clenched his fist, "How far?"
"Like, two flights-"
"Have you seen a doctor?"
"No," Greta leaned against the wall, "nothing that serious. Just a few fractured ribs-"
"Are you fucking kidding me, Greta." He said loudly, furious at her lack of care for herself, "You could have internal bleeding from a fall like that."
Her eyes widened at his fury, "It's been a couple days. I think I would have known by now if something was wrong-"
"What happened after? How did you get out of that house?"
"Angelo heard it happen." She looked down the hall where her brother was, "He was able to subdue her, convince her to sleep it off, then he got me out of there with the help of one of our men stationed at the house. He was the one that suggested that shitty hotel we've been staying in. Our mom would never imagine we would stay in a place like that."
"Has she contacted you?"
"No, I've been using my secret phone. The one she has tracked is still at the house. Same as Angelo."
"She tracks you?"
Greta let out an unamused laugh, "Of course she does."
Harry pursed his lips, "Do you know for a fact that she doesn't know about the phones you're using now?"
She nodded, "There's zero chance she knows."
"Good."
Then he turned and stormed down the hall. His side was aching, burning up from all the excitement and movement, but he was too angry to care. Taking his pistol out of the band of his trousers, he checked the cartridge and counted the bullets. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angelo tense up.
"Griffin," he barked, "what's the fastest way to the Bianchi house?"
"What?" Greta yelped behind him, "You can't go there!"
He ignored her, and Griffin answered, "Down Martini Avenue, avoid the main roads. Traffic is too high at this time."
Harry nodded, Griffin starting towards him to leave, not bothering to ask anymore questions. The man would follow Harry into a war with no questions asked.
"Harry!" Greta called to him, racing in front of him to block the door. It was way too fast, movements too sharp, because she was closing her eyes and cursing as she held her side. She nearly fell to the ground from the pain racing through her, but Harry caught her.
He was careful as he brought her back to the living room, Angelo eyeing him as he took over and set her down on the couch.
"I'm calling Astrid." Harry told the room, pulling out his phone.
Through the pain, Greta demanded an answer, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why on earth would you go there?"
"To kill her." He said plainly.
She gaped at him while her brother kept his face schooled.
"You'll start a war." She whispered.
"I don't give a shit." He told her, "She has no right to touch you-"
"Why do you care!" She said frantically, "It's none of your business-"
"It is exactly my business!" He shot back, bringing the phone to his ear and turning away.
Astrid answered on the second ring, "I'm heading over right now to see if I can find the map. You can tell her to calm the fuck down-"
"I need your assistance." He cut her off.
"Are you in pain?" She asked, knowing his injury extensively.
"No, I need you to look someone over for any major injuries. Young woman, relatively healthy, fell down the stairs and has broken bones. I want to make sure there's no internal injuries."
She grumbled something under her breath, but agreed, "Fine, but I can only do so much without the proper tests."
"You can at least attest whether or not she needs to go to the hospital."
"I don't need the hospital!" Greta cried out, turning to Dev and asking, "Is he crazy? He can't seriously be going to kill my mom over this."
Dev frowned, reaching his hand forward to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, "He's definitely serious, darling."
Harry narrowed his eyes at his friend, "Griffin will send you the address."
He hung up before receiving an answer, "She'll be here soon. Dev, let her up and make sure she goes to the hospital if Astrid is even a little concerned, alright?"
Dev nodded, stepping away from Greta.
Harry was halfway to the door again when Greta yelled, "Harry, stop!"
He was frustrated, but turned to look at her. She forced herself up, Angelo at her side, watching her carefully.
"What is going on?" She asked, bewildered at this turn of events, "You can't do this. It's absolutely insane."
"She doesn't deserve to live after what she did." He said simply.
The world was shades of grey. Living his lifestyle, he knew there were rarely instances of black and white, but this was one of the rare times. He had a firm stance on what parents were meant to do. Years of enduring both mental and physical abuse, watching his mother retreat into herself and let it all happen, had influenced his opinions on this matter.
Isabella Bianchi hadn't meant to only injure or hurt Greta. No, she meant to kill her. The thought of Harry never getting to know his own sister because she decided to take that right away from him twisted his gut.
There would be consequences to her actions, and Harry would gladly be the reaper to claim that justice.
"Why do you care?" She asked again, "What does it matter to you what she did?"
"Harry," Dev stepped forward, "I think you need to tell them. It's only fair to explain before you go to kill their mother."
"Explain what?" Angelo questioned, looking between them.
"Are you really supporting his decision to do this?" Greta frowned at Dev, "To start a war?"
"She could have killed you, Greta." He said softly.
"But she didn't!" She cried out, "I'm alive and fine and there's no need to do this. You'll only get yourself killed!"
"She won't get that chance." Harry told her plainly.
She looked like she wanted to pull her hair out. "But why? Why all this? Is this just so you can take control of the territory or-"
"Do you think I'm so callous as to use what happened to you as an excuse to do that?" He asked her, almost not wanting to hear the answer. She had no real reason not to believe that. They barely knew each other.
"I don't know!" She laughed humorlessly, "I have no clue, but I'm trying to make this all make sense!"
Harry battled with himself. He wanted nothing more than to leave right now and exact revenge on her behalf. But she was right. They deserved answers first.
"Do you remember your father much?" He asked her.
Angelo furrowed his brow at that, Greta looking equally caught off guard.
"Yes, a little." She told him slowly, "He wasn't that hands on, though. We barely saw him."
"That's because he wasn't your father." Harry ripped the bandaid off, "Your biological father is Patrick Styles."