Page 43 of A Mistake of Worth
Package in hand, Michael headed for the bedroom. Once inside, he closed the door quietly and pulled out his phone. The time difference meant Gabriel would still be at the office.
He picked up on the second ring.
“Michael,” Gabriel answered, clipped and tired. “This is unexpected.”
“It’s about Henri,” Michael said, setting the package on the nightstand. “He’s here in London. With me. And I know about Marc Saint-Clair.”
A silence stretched between them.
“What do you know about Marc Saint-Clair?” Gabriel asked at last. The shift in his tone was immediate. Sharp, low, dangerous.
“All of it,” Michael replied, jaw tight. “The control. The fear. The conditioning. But also the parts you don’t know, because I saw them, Gabriel. The messages. The fucking sex toy Marc wanted him to wear at the office!”
There was a pause. Not stunned silence, just something brittle.
“I knew it was bad,” Gabriel said slowly. “But I didn’t know about... that.”
Michael paced the room. “You should’ve seen his face when I told him not to take it with him. He was shaking. Couldn’t breathe. And after lunch today, he broke down completely. Marc sent a bunch of threatening messages because Henri didn’t comply with shoving that toy up his ass, Gabriel! It wasn’t nerves or stress. It was terror. Henri was inconsolable.”
“Putain de bordel de merde,” Gabriel growled, the words vicious. “That bastard...” He cut himself off. “I didn’t know about the toy. Or the messages. Only what I’ve managed to piece together through Jean.”
Michael’s voice dropped. “He’s afraid Marc will show up. Here. In London.”
“And he might,” Gabriel said. “That’s why you can’t tell anyone where Henri is. Not your family. Not Rhys. No one. He’s with you now?”
“Yes. I brought him to my home after he left the Dorchester. He was spiraling. Marc’s messages haven’t stopped all day. I shut the phone off. I’m getting him a new one tomorrow, a UK number.”
“Good. Bon Dieu. Throw the old one in the fucking Thames.”
Michael barked a short, humorless laugh. “Believe me, I’ve considered it.”
“Where is he now?” Gabriel asked.
“In my home office. Looking over EcoSphere’s production tables. Still trying to do his job even after all of this.” His voice wavered between admiration and grief.
Gabriel’s tone dropped, quieter but sharper. “You did the right thing. Thank you, Michael.”
Michael nodded even though Gabriel couldn’t see it. “I don’t think Marc knows Henri’s with me.”
“Keep it that way,” Gabriel said. “We need him invisible.”
“I agree.”
“I’ve had investigators digging into the Saint-Clairs. Looking for leverage. I’m done playing clean. I want blood.”
Michael sat on the edge of the bed, jaw tight. “Have you found anything?”
“We’ve traced money from Three Rivers to several shell companies tied to Don Haldeman.”
Michael’s blood ran cold. “The South Afie?”
“The trafficker,” Gabriel said. “Drugs. Weapons. Children. Three Rivers insures the whole fucking operation through shell companies. Guess who handles the contracts?”
“Marc.” His voice was flat.
“Marc.” Gabriel’s tone dripped disgust. “It started under their father, but Marc took it global. These aren’t just dirty business deals. They’re atrocities wrapped in paperwork.”
Michael closed his eyes. “He’s not going to give Henri up easily, is he?”
