Part 2: The King of Portland's Shadows
Hannah barely slept after leaving the hospital.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the icy river filling her lungs and saw the same pair of hands breaking through the glass.
She also couldn't stop looking at the coat.
"C.R."
Simple initials.
Nothing more.
Three days later she carried it into the only place she could think of—a tailor downtown.
The elderly owner unfolded the soaked black wool and immediately froze.
"Where did you get this?"
"It belongs to the man who saved my life."
The tailor quietly locked the front door.
"You shouldn't be asking about this coat."
"Why?"
He pointed to the gold stitching hidden beneath the collar.
"Because only one man in Portland orders them."
He whispered the name.
"Caleb Ross."
Hannah had heard it before.
Everyone had.
Some called him a billionaire investor.
Others called him the ghost who owned half the waterfront.
The newspapers called him a ruthless businessman who somehow never lost a legal battle.
The criminal underworld had another name for him.
The King of Portland.
"He rescued me?" Hannah asked.
The tailor nodded.
"And if he wanted you dead, no one would have found your car."
That night Hannah returned to her apartment and found the door unlocked.
Nothing was stolen.
Instead, one photograph lay on her kitchen table.
A photograph she had taken six months earlier at a charity gala.
She picked it up.
Hidden in the background, almost invisible behind a smiling senator, stood three men exchanging a black envelope.
One face belonged to a respected judge.
Another belonged to a construction executive.
The third...
was pointing directly at the camera.
At her.
A note rested underneath.
You photographed something they were never supposed to see.
Before she could move, every light in the apartment went out.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
The window shattered.
Someone fired a silenced pistol into the darkness.
A strong arm grabbed her from behind.
"Down."
The same deep voice.
The same impossible calm.
Caleb Ross pushed her behind the kitchen island as another bullet buried itself in the wall.
He wore a charcoal suit, rain still glistening on his shoulders.
Two men rushed through the broken window.
Neither reached her.
Everything happened too quickly.
A sharp movement.
A crash.
One attacker hit the floor unconscious while the other fled through the fire escape.
Silence returned.
Hannah stared at her rescuer.
"So you're real."
One corner of Caleb's mouth lifted.
"So are the people trying to kill you."
He picked up the photograph.
"They've spent six months searching for this image."
"I didn't even know I had it."
"They think you do."
Police sirens echoed outside.
Caleb handed her a business card with only an address.
May you like
"If you want to stay alive, come tomorrow."
Then he disappeared before the officers reached the apartment.
