Chapter 5 - Claire’s Hidden Warning
Claire read the message three times.
Roman watched the confusion on her face turn into something more dangerous.
Doubt.
“You knew my mother?” she asked.
“No.”
“Your father did.”
“Apparently.”
“And Gabriel Kane did.”
“Yes.”
Claire held up the photograph.
“I have never seen this picture.”
Roman said nothing.
“I don’t remember him.”
“You look about six.”
“Seven.”
The photograph had been taken outside a small blue house.
Evelyn Bennett stood behind her daughter, one hand resting on Claire’s shoulder. Gabriel Kane crouched beside the child, smiling toward the camera.
There was nothing threatening about the picture.
That made it more disturbing.
Claire studied Roman.
“What did your father do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your father recorded a message about a secret ledger. My mother worked for his company. Gabriel knew her. Marcus knew her. Marcus later recommended me for a job in your house.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
Roman’s eyes hardened.
“Yes.”
“You keep saying you didn’t know.”
“Because I didn’t.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
Roman remained quiet.
Claire regretted the question the moment she saw his expression.
Not anger.
Pain.
Roman Vale had discovered in a single night that his father had lied to him for years.
Claire lowered the phone.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
“I’m frightened.”
“You should be.”
“That is not comforting.”
“It wasn’t intended to be.”
Roman sat opposite her.
“Tell me everything you remember about your mother’s work.”
Claire thought.
“She handled payroll and invoices. We lived in Albany until I was eleven, then moved to Blackridge.”
“Why?”
“She said she wanted a quieter life.”
“What happened to your father?”
“I never knew him.”
“Your mother never spoke about him?”
“She said he left before I was born.”
Roman leaned back.
“And six years ago?”
Claire’s gaze lowered.
“Car accident.”
Roman noticed Ethan staring at the floor.
“Ethan.”
The security chief looked up.
“What?”
“You reacted.”
Ethan sighed.
“I remember the accident.”
Claire stared.
“Why would you remember my mother’s accident?”
“Because Vincent asked me to look into it.”
The room became silent.
Claire’s voice was barely audible.
“Why?”
“He believed it might not have been accidental.”
Roman stood.
“And you never told me?”
“Your father ordered me not to.”
“He was already sick.”
“He was still your father.”
Roman walked to the window.
For fourteen years Ethan had been loyal.
But loyalty to Vincent and loyalty to Roman were apparently not always the same thing.
“What did you find?”
“Brake failure.”
Claire closed her eyes.
Ethan continued.
“But the repair shop said her vehicle had passed inspection four days earlier.”
Roman turned.
“Tampering?”
“Possible. Never proven.”
“Who was she meeting that night?”
Ethan hesitated.
“That was the strange part.”
Claire looked up.
“She was driving toward Blackridge House.”
Roman stared.
Claire shook her head.
“No. She told me she was going to dinner.”
“With whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Ethan said, “She called Vincent that afternoon.”
Claire became completely still.
Roman asked, “Why?”
“I never found out.”
A knock sounded at the study.
Everyone stopped.
Roman drew no weapon.
He simply asked, “Who?”
Lena Ortiz answered.
“Sir.”
Roman opened the door.
Lena oversaw estate operations.
She carried a sealed envelope.
“This was delivered at the gate.”
“By whom?”
“Courier. Paid cash.”
Roman took it.
No return address.
Inside was a single key and handwritten note.
EVELYN LEFT YOU THE TRUTH. STORAGE 214. BLACKRIDGE CENTRAL STATION. COME ALONE, CLAIRE.
Claire read it.
“No.”
Roman answered before she could speak.
“You’re not going.”
“It’s addressed to me.”
“Exactly.”
“If my mother left something—”
“Gabriel wants you outside the estate.”
“Maybe.”
“There is no maybe.”
Claire’s frustration broke through.
“You keep treating me like protecting me means making decisions for me.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“And I’m trying to understand why my mother died.”
The words struck both of them.
Roman lowered his voice.
“If you go, I go.”
“It says alone.”
“I don’t care.”
Claire looked at the key.
“Then whoever sent it may disappear.”
Roman leaned closer.
“Claire, somebody entered this house last night, shut down my security, grabbed you and left a dead man in the cellar. I am past respecting instructions delivered anonymously.”
That ended the argument.
Mostly.
They developed a compromise.
Claire would enter the station alone.
Roman and Ethan would remain nearby.
No visible security.
No police.
At noon, Blackridge Central Station bustled with commuters.
Claire walked toward the storage lockers.
Roman watched through a café window across the concourse.
Ethan sat twenty feet away reading a newspaper he had not turned a page of in fifteen minutes.
Claire reached locker 214.
Inserted the key.
Opened it.
Inside sat a small cardboard box.
Nothing happened.
Claire removed it.
Roman waited.
No movement.
No attack.
Then Claire opened the box.
Inside was an old cassette recorder.
A photograph.
And a handwritten letter.
Claire recognized the handwriting.
Her mother’s.
Her hands began to shake.
She opened the letter.
My sweet Claire,
If you are reading this, something I feared has happened. I need you to understand that Roman Vale is not responsible for the choices his father made. Do not punish the son for Vincent’s sins.
Claire stopped.
Across the concourse Roman watched her expression.
She continued.
Years ago I discovered records hidden inside Northstar Construction’s accounts. Vincent Vale was paying people whose names never appeared on company documents. Gabriel Kane asked me to help him prove it.
Claire looked toward Roman.
He could not see the words.
Only her face.
But Gabriel misunderstood one thing. Vincent was not creating the payments. He was trying to trace them. Somebody inside the Vale organization was using his companies to move money and build influence without his knowledge.
Claire’s pulse quickened.
Vincent believed the person responsible was someone close enough to manipulate both him and Roman.
Then the letter became worse.
I found the name.
Claire’s eyes moved to the final paragraph.
I hid the proof because I knew I would be killed if I carried it to Blackridge. If I do not return, remember this: trust the person who asks questions before giving you answers. Fear the person who always arrives already knowing what happened.
Claire slowly looked up.
Ethan Mercer was no longer sitting with the newspaper.
His chair was empty.
Roman saw it at the same moment.
He stood.
Then Claire noticed the photograph inside the box.
It showed Evelyn Bennett standing beside Vincent Vale.
Behind them was Ethan.
Much younger.
And beside Ethan stood another man.
Marcus Reed.
On the back, Evelyn had written:
THEY BOTH WORKED FOR HIM. ONLY ONE KNEW I FOUND THE LEDGER.
Claire turned.
Someone collided with her.
The box fell.
The station erupted in confusion.
A man grabbed the letter.
Claire caught his sleeve.
He shoved her away and ran.
Roman crossed the concourse immediately.
“Claire!”
“I’m fine!”
Roman chased the thief.
The man disappeared through the crowd.
Ethan reappeared from another entrance.
“What happened?”
Roman stopped.
His eyes locked onto Ethan.
“Where were you?”
“Following a suspicious man.”
“What man?”
“The one who just ran.”
Roman stared at him.
Claire approached, holding the photograph.
Her mother’s warning echoed in her mind.
Fear the person who always arrives already knowing what happened.
Ethan looked at her.
“What was in the box?”
Claire folded the photograph behind her back.
For the first time, she lied to him.
“Nothing useful.”
May you like
And Roman immediately understood that Claire Bennett had just stopped trusting his oldest friend.
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