He knew

He knew.

Of course he knew.

“I also know your Honda has a repossession warning.”

He nodded toward the cash.

“Take the job.”

I wanted to throw the money in his face.

Instead, I thought about Leo.

Dominic.

Those broken headphones.

“I want weekends off.”

Declan’s eyebrow lifted.

“And I’m not wearing that stupid uniform.”

His mouth twitched.

“Tomorrow. Nine.”

I left the study alive.

That alone felt like a promotion.

Outside, near the pine trees, I found Leo sitting alone on a stone bench.

The broken headphones rested beside him.

I made noise with my shoes so I wouldn’t startle him.

He looked up.

“My father hired you.”

Apparently news traveled fast.

“Looks that way.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“Great.”

I sat two feet away.

“I’m terrible with children.”

He looked confused.

Then he understood the joke.

Another tiny smile.

We sat quietly.

After a while, Leo looked at me.

Really looked.

Direct eye contact.

Painful effort.

But he held it.

“Thank you for dancing with me.”

I swallowed.

“Anytime.”

I stood and headed toward my rusted Honda.

I had no idea that hidden inside the Gallagher estate was proof that the man everyone called broken was actually the one person capable of destroying the entire family.

And Dominic already knew it.

PART 2 — Leo noticed numbers that exposed Dominic’s secret theft

The next morning, a black Cadillac waited outside my apartment.

My neighbor Mrs. Ramirez watched through her blinds like the FBI had finally come for me.

I wore jeans.

Declan hated that immediately.

Good.

Leo was in the breakfast room arranging blueberries into groups of four beside untouched pancakes.

“Morning.”

He looked at my shoes.

“Different.”

“Yesterday’s shoes tried to murder me.”

He nodded seriously.

“Poor arch support.”

That was Leo.

Literal.

Observant.

And, I quickly discovered, frighteningly smart.

Declan believed Leo couldn’t understand the family business because meetings overwhelmed him.

What Declan didn’t know was that Leo remembered almost everything he saw.

Dates.

Account numbers.

License plates.

Contract clauses.

Patterns.

Three days into the job, I found him staring at a stack of financial statements Dominic had left in the library.

“Something wrong?”

Leo pointed.

“That number changed.”

I looked.

It was a boring payment ledger.

“Which number?”

“Maintenance contract. March was $86,400.”

He tapped another sheet.

“April says prior payment was $186,400.”

A hundred-thousand-dollar difference.

“You’re sure?”

“I saw March’s report for eleven seconds.”

Okay.

That got my attention.

I photographed both pages.

Then footsteps came from the hallway.

Dominic.

I shoved my phone into my pocket.

He entered smiling.

“Tessa.”

His eyes dropped to the papers.

“What are you doing?”

“Teaching Leo Sudoku.”

Leo looked at me.

I prayed he understood lying.

Dominic picked up the ledger.

“You shouldn’t touch things that don’t belong to you.”

Then he leaned close enough for me to smell mint and whiskey.

“People around here get hurt from curiosity.”

Leo’s fingers began tapping.

Four beats.

I smiled at Dominic.

“Then you must live dangerously.”

His face went flat.

That evening Leo led me to an upstairs hallway.

“There’s a camera.”

A tiny black lens sat above the molding.

“Security?”

“No.”

“How do you know?”

“House cameras blink every six seconds.”

This one didn’t.

Leo pointed toward Dominic’s office.

“That one never blinks.”

Someone had installed private surveillance inside Gallagher’s own house.

And suddenly that missing hundred thousand dollars felt very small.

PART 3 — Dominic tried humiliating Leo publicly, but the cameras survived

Two weeks later came the Gallagher Foundation Christmas fundraiser at Saint Matthew’s Church.

Leo didn’t want to go.

Declan insisted.

“People need to see him functioning.”

I hated that word.

Functioning.

Like Leo was a microwave.

The church basement smelled like coffee, cinnamon rolls, wet winter coats, and those folding tables every American church apparently bought in 1978.

For twenty minutes, Leo did fine.

Headphones around his neck.

Me beside him.

Then Dominic arrived.

He brought three reporters.

That wasn’t an accident.

He walked over carrying two champagne glasses.

“Cousin.”

Leo stiffened.

“No alcohol,” I said.

Dominic ignored me.

“I heard you’ve been studying the books.”

My stomach dropped.

He knew.

Then Dominic “accidentally” dropped a metal serving tray behind Leo.

The crash exploded through the basement.

Leo covered his ears.

Dominic grabbed his arm.

“Smile for the cameras.”

Leo pulled away.

A reporter raised her phone.

Dominic whispered loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.

“Come on, freak. Show Chicago what happens when Daddy dies.”

I stepped between them.

Dominic shoved me.

Hard.

My shoulder hit a folding table.

Coffee spilled.

People gasped.

Then a uniformed church security officer appeared.

Dominic immediately straightened his jacket.

“She attacked me.”

Of course.

Two police officers working traffic outside came in.

Dominic smiled.

He actually expected them to arrest me.

Then an elderly woman beside the coffee urn raised her hand.

“Young man.”

Mrs. Evelyn Carter.

Seventy-eight.

Church secretary.

Professional destroyer of nonsense.

“We installed new security cameras after somebody stole the Thanksgiving turkey donations.”

She pointed at the ceiling.

“That camera recorded everything.”

Dominic stopped smiling.

Police reviewed the footage.

They watched him drop the tray intentionally.

Grab Leo.

Shove me.

And lie.

The officer looked at Dominic.

“You want to reconsider your statement?”

For the first time, Leo lifted his head.