Chapter 16 - When Gideon Finally Told Her Everything
Sebastian sat behind reinforced glass in a federal interview room.
No tailored coat.
No polished authority.
His belt and watch had been removed.
He looked smaller.
Genevieve noticed something surprising.
She felt no satisfaction.
For years he had haunted her family without her knowing his name.
Now that he sat in front of her, he looked ordinary.
That might have been the most frightening truth.
Men capable of destroying lives did not always look monstrous.
Sometimes they looked like family advisers.
She picked up the phone.
Sebastian did the same.
“You came.”
“You asked.”
“Still curious.”
“Still alive.”
He smiled faintly.
“You think this ends with me.”
“It ends with your control.”
“Not the same thing.”
“Good enough.”
Sebastian leaned closer.
“Elena kept one secret from everyone.”
Genevieve waited.
“She knew she might die.”
“I know.”
“No. She expected it.”
“That’s not a revelation.”
“She could have left Port Aurelia.”
Genevieve’s face remained still.
“She chose not to.”
“Why?”
“Because she discovered someone else was helping me.”
Genevieve’s stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Sebastian smiled.
“You’ll assume I’m lying.”
“I already do.”
“Then ask Gideon about Geneva.”
Genevieve said nothing.
“Ask him what happened there three years ago.”
Gideon had never mentioned Geneva.
Sebastian saw the reaction.
“There.”
“What?”
“Another secret.”
Genevieve ended the call.
No dramatic confrontation.
No demand.
She simply walked out.
Gideon waited in the corridor.
His face changed when he saw hers.
“What did he say?”
“Geneva.”
Gideon froze.
There it was.
Not guilt exactly.
Recognition.
Genevieve laughed bitterly.
“Unbelievable.”
“Genevieve—”
“No.”
She walked past him.
He followed.
“Let me explain.”
“That sentence is cursed.”
“Probably.”
She stopped.
“Then explain.”
Gideon took her into an empty conference room.
No guards.
No Rosalind.
No Arthur.
This secret, apparently, belonged to him.
“Three years ago,” he began, “I went to Geneva to meet a banker.”
“Which banker?”
“Lucien Moreau.”
“Why?”
“He handled accounts linked to Sebastian.”
“You already suspected him then?”
“I suspected someone.”
“And?”
“Moreau gave me partial records.”
Gideon looked away.
“He also gave me your name.”
Genevieve stared.
“My name?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“An account had been opened using your identity.”
She felt cold.
“How much?”
“Six million.”
“I have never had an account in Geneva.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because I investigated.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
Of course.
“What happened?”
“I traced the account to a Winterborne subsidiary. The authorization ultimately came from Daniel Kessler.”
Genevieve remembered Arthur’s assistant.
“So why hide it?”
“Because if I exposed the account then, whoever created it would know I was investigating.”
“And Sebastian?”
“I didn’t know it was him.”
“What did you do with the money?”
“Froze it quietly.”
Genevieve frowned.
“Then why would Sebastian tell me about Geneva now?”
“Because there’s something else.”
Her patience thinned.
Gideon continued.
“I met your father there.”
Genevieve stared.
“Arthur?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing?”
“Trying to recover the same account.”
“Did you tell each other what you knew?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“We didn’t trust each other.”
Genevieve almost laughed.
Of course.
Two powerful men in the same city investigating the same crime.
Both withholding information.
Sebastian did not need genius.
Only male pride.
“So what is the terrible secret?”
Gideon’s face hardened.
“On the second night, someone tried to kill Moreau.”
Genevieve waited.
“He survived. But one of my men did not.”
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s more.”
“There always is.”
“The man who died was Rosalind’s brother.”
Genevieve stopped.
Now she understood Rosalind’s involvement.
Not mistress.
Not simply investigator.
Personal loss.
“Did Sebastian order it?”
“We believe so.”
“Proof?”
“Not then.”
“And now?”
Gideon nodded.
“The ledger contains the payment.”
Genevieve sat.
For several minutes neither spoke.
Then she asked, “Why didn’t Rosalind tell me?”
“She would have if you asked.”
“That is somehow more irritating.”
Gideon sat across from her.
“I promised no more secrets.”
“Yes.”
“So there’s one more thing.”
Genevieve looked at the ceiling.
“Please tell me this one is small.”
“No.”
“Fantastic.”
He almost smiled.
Then became serious.
“My father left me a separate company outside Vale Holdings.”
“What company?”
“A holding firm.”
“For?”
“Assets he wanted protected from Sebastian.”
Genevieve waited.
Gideon continued.
“One of those assets is eleven percent of Winterborne Maritime.”
She stared.
“What?”
“Marcus bought the shares gradually through trusts.”
“When?”
“Before he died.”
“Does my father know?”
“No.”
“Do you control them?”
“Yes.”
Genevieve stood.
“You own eleven percent of my family company and neglected to mention it before marrying me?”
“When phrased that way—”
“How else would it be phrased?”
“I intended to transfer the shares back.”
“When?”
“After the wedding.”
“Why after?”
“Because I was afraid Arthur would cancel the marriage if he knew.”
Silence.
Gideon closed his eyes.
“Yes. I hear it now.”
“You manipulated the negotiation.”
“I did.”
“You let my father believe he had more leverage than he did.”
“Yes.”
“And you were going to reveal it after I was legally married to you.”
“Yes.”
Genevieve stepped backward.
This was different.
Not life-and-death secrecy.
Not protecting an investigation.
A calculated business deception.
Exactly the kind of thing she had feared.
Gideon stood.
“I already signed the transfer.”
“What?”
“The shares are yours.”
She stared.
“Mine?”
“As of two hours ago.”
“I don’t want them.”
“They belonged to your family before Sebastian forced their sale decades ago.”
“That doesn’t mean you can hand me eleven percent of a corporation as an apology.”
“It isn’t an apology.”
“What is it?”
“Restitution.”
She looked at him.
“My father’s word?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
“Your mother’s.”
Gideon handed her another document.
Elena had once owned those shares through a family trust.
Sebastian had forced their sale after her death.
Marcus secretly purchased them to prevent Sebastian acquiring them.
Gideon had inherited them.
He had just returned them to Elena’s daughter.
Genevieve sat again.
The anger remained.
But it changed shape.
“Why not tell me yesterday?”
“Because I intended it as a wedding gift.”
She stared.
“That may be the least romantic wedding gift in human history.”
“I thought you would appreciate voting rights.”
Against her will, Genevieve laughed.
Gideon smiled.
For the first time, the room felt lighter.
Then Genevieve became serious.
“Secrets like Geneva, I can understand why you kept them during an investigation.”
He nodded.
“The shares?”
“I should have told you.”
“Yes.”
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“I cannot promise I’ll never make another bad decision.”
“Good.”
“I can promise you’ll never have to discover it from someone else.”
That was a promise she understood.
Not perfection.
Transparency.
Genevieve looked toward the rain streaking the window.
“What did Sebastian mean about my mother expecting to die?”
“I don’t know.”
“We should ask Thomas.”
They did.
Thomas Bell answered from protective custody.
Elena had indeed known she was in danger.
But she had refused to leave because she was waiting for one final document.
“What document?” Genevieve asked.
Thomas hesitated.
“A signed dissolution agreement.”
“Between whom?”
“Arthur, Marcus, and Sebastian.”
Genevieve frowned.
“They planned to dissolve the partnership.”
“Yes.”
“Did the document exist?”
“I saw Elena holding it.”
“Where is it now?”
Thomas answered.
“Sebastian took it from her.”
If recovered, the agreement could prove Arthur and Marcus had attempted to withdraw from the network before Elena died.
It would not erase their earlier choices.
But it would establish something important.
They had tried to stop.
Genevieve looked toward the interview room.
Sebastian had kept trophies.
Documents.
Leverage.
Secrets.
“Where would he keep it?” Gideon asked.
Genevieve knew.
“He told us already.”
Gideon frowned.
“He said Elena’s death wasn’t the last secret.”
“No.”
She remembered his obsession with symmetry.
Wedding.
Vault.
House.
Past echoing present.
“The dry dock.”
Investigators searched again.
Behind a false wall in Sebastian’s old office they found a safe.
Inside were dozens of original documents.
Including the dissolution agreement.
Arthur Winterborne.
Marcus Vale.
Elena Winterborne.
All signed.
Sebastian Crowne’s signature absent.
He had refused.
The date was the day Elena died.
Her final act had not been hiding.
It had been trying to end the machine.
Genevieve held the paper carefully.
For the first time, she understood her inheritance.
Not Winterborne Maritime.
Not shares.
Not money.
A choice her mother never got to finish.
Genevieve looked at Gideon.
“Tomorrow we finish it.”
“What?”
“The network.”
“The companies?”
“The parts built by Sebastian.”
Gideon nodded.
“And after that?”
She knew what he was really asking.
Their marriage.
Their future.
Genevieve looked toward the approaching dawn.
“After that, I decide whether page forty-three was the end of our marriage.”
She paused.
May you like
“Or the beginning of an honest one.”
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