Chapter 6: What Renata Was Actually Protecting
The archive came down at 4:47 in the afternoon.
Grace was in the kitchen when Dominic's phone lit up with a message from Garrett.
He read it, set the phone on the counter, and looked at her.
"Done," he said.
"Good."
He poured two cups of coffee and brought them to the table.
He sat across from her.
He didn't speak immediately, which meant he was choosing his words, which meant he had been thinking since her call from the restaurant.
"The document," he said.
"I pulled the keycard records from Garrett's summary.
The IP logs were in the same file.
I spent two days reading through them." She wrapped both hands around her cup.
"I didn't tell you because you would have wanted to come."
"Yes."
"And I needed her to see me.
Not us."
He was quiet for a moment.
"She agreed too fast."
Grace looked up.
"You think so too."
"Renata doesn't concede.
She redirects." He turned his coffee cup slowly on the table.
"She gave you what you asked for because it wasn't the thing she was actually protecting."
"That's what I thought on the drive home." Grace set her cup down.
"So what is she protecting?"
Dominic picked up his phone and called Garrett.
It rang twice.
"Already on it," Garrett said, without waiting for a question.
"Give me an hour."
He hung up.
Grace looked at Dominic.
"He knew."
"He noticed the same thing you did."
"When?"
"About forty minutes after your call from the restaurant." Dominic set the phone down.
"He's been pulling Renata's client communications since this morning.
Not the content — the pattern.
Who she contacts, when, how often, and whether the timing lines up with anything in our operation."
"And?"
"And Harmon Freight and Delco Terminal are real clients.
But they're not the primary client." He paused.
"There's a third party.
Garrett hasn't identified them yet.
But the communication pattern suggests someone who isn't on any public filing connected to either company."
Grace was still.
"Someone using Renata as a layer."
"Yes."
"Someone who knew enough about your operations to know that a reputational hit timed to the contract renewals would create maximum pressure."
"Yes."
"Someone who knew about me specifically.
Not just that you were married.
That I was still working at Harbor House.
That I used my maiden name.
That I had a history at the Inner Harbor diner." She looked at him.
"Dominic.
That's not public information."
"No," he said.
"It isn't."
The kitchen was very quiet.
"Who knows all of that?" she said.
He didn't answer immediately.
He turned his coffee cup again.
Once.
Twice.
"Three people," he said.
"Garrett.
My attorney, Marcus Webb.
And my brother."
Grace had met Thomas Rainer twice.
Once at a dinner Dominic had arranged six months before their wedding, and once at a charity event the following spring.
Both times Thomas had been pleasant, attentive, and slightly too interested in what Grace did for a living.
Both times Dominic had been careful not to leave them alone together for long.
She had noticed.
She had not asked.
"Your brother," she said.
"Thomas has been trying to buy into my Baltimore terminal for three years.
I've declined each time." Dominic's voice was flat.
"He has a relationship with Delco Terminal Partners.
I didn't know how close until last month."
"How close?"
"He holds a silent interest.
Twelve percent."
Grace stared at him.
"Your brother has a financial stake in a company that's been trying to break your contracts."
"Yes."
"And you've known this for a month."
"I've known it for a month."
"And you didn't tell me."
A pause.
"I was trying to determine the full scope before —"
"Dominic." Her voice was quiet but not soft.
"You asked me to tell you if someone truly hurt me.
I called you from a kitchen with soda in my hair.
And you had already known for a month that your brother was positioned against you."
He held her gaze.
"Yes."
"Did you know he was connected to Renata?"
"I suspected.
I didn't have confirmation."
"Do you have it now?"
He picked up his phone and looked at the screen.
A new message from Garrett had arrived while they were talking.
He read it and set the phone flat on the table, screen down.
"Yes," he said.
Grace looked at the phone.
Then at him.
"Show me," she said.
He turned the screen toward her.
The message was three lines.
A date.
A location.
And a single sentence:
*Thomas Rainer met with Renata Voss on October 3rd at the Fells Point office.
Meeting lasted ninety minutes.
Garrett has the building security footage.*
Grace read it twice.
October 3rd was eleven days before the incident at Harbor House.
She set the phone down carefully.
"He planned this," she said.
"Yes."
"He used Renata.
Renata used Sloane.
And Sloane used sixty thousand strangers to humiliate me on a live stream." She looked at Dominic.
"Your brother did this to me."
Dominic's expression was the stillest she had ever seen it.
"Yes," he said.
"He did."
Outside, the guard at the gate changed shifts.
The new car pulled in quietly.
A door opened and closed.
Grace stood up.
"I want to be in the room," she said, "when you talk to him."
Dominic looked at her for a long moment.
"I know," he said.
"That's not an answer."
"Yes," he said.
"You'll be in the room."
She nodded once and picked up her coffee cup.
It had gone cold.
She poured it out, rinsed the cup, and set it in the rack.
"When?" she said.
"Tomorrow," Dominic said.
"He's coming to sign a routine document at my office.
He doesn't know we know."
May you like
Grace dried her hands on the kitchen towel.
"Good," she said.
