Chapter 2 - The Number Vivian Shouldn't Have Known
Claire woke to the sound of a heart monitor.
For several seconds she didn't know where she was.
White ceiling.
Dim lights.
Something tight around her arm.
Her throat hurt.
Then memory returned in pieces.
Snow.
The locked carriage house.
Her knees sinking.
Lily.
Claire jerked upright.
Pain shot through her head.
"Easy."
She turned.
Roman DeLuca sat in the chair beside the hospital window.
He wasn't wearing a jacket.
His black shirt sleeves were rolled to his forearms. His tie was gone. He looked as if he hadn't slept.
"What are you doing here?"
Roman raised an eyebrow.
"Good morning to you too."
Claire looked toward the clock.
8:17 a.m.
Christmas morning.
"Lily."
"She's safe."
Claire froze.
Roman leaned forward.
"I had someone check."
"You what?"
"You kept saying her name."
Claire pulled the blanket closer.
"You shouldn't have contacted her."
"I didn't. I contacted Harbor Ridge."
Fear moved across Claire's face.
Roman saw it immediately.
"Why does that frighten you?"
"It doesn't."
"Claire."
"I'm tired."
"You're lying."
Her eyes flashed.
"You don't get to interrogate me because you found me outside."
"No. I get to ask questions because somebody under my roof nearly died after being deliberately sent into a storm."
"It was an accident."
Roman reached into his pocket.
He placed the wet note on the table.
Claire stopped breathing.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was caught in my coat."
She stared at the number.
184,000.
Roman watched her.
"What does it mean?"
"Nothing."
"You're a terrible liar."
"Then stop asking questions you already think you know the answers to."
For the first time, Roman almost smiled.
Almost.
Then his expression hardened.
"Vivian knew this number."
Claire looked away.
That was enough.
Roman stood.
"What does she have on you?"
"Nothing."
"She threatened your sister."
Claire's head snapped toward him.
Roman had guessed.
Her reaction confirmed it.
"Get out."
"Claire—"
"Get out."
Roman remained still.
She pointed toward the door.
"You're my employer. That's all. You don't own my problems."
"No."
His voice was quiet.
"But apparently someone associated with my family believes they do."
That landed.
Claire looked at him.
Roman pushed the note closer.
"Tell me about the debt."
She said nothing for nearly a minute.
Then something inside her seemed to collapse.
"My father borrowed money."
"From whom?"
"I don't know."
"You've been making payments to someone you don't know?"
"You think I haven't tried finding out?"
Her voice cracked.
Roman fell silent.
Claire rubbed her palms together.
"My sister got sick six years ago. It happened fast. Infection. Surgery. Rehabilitation. Insurance covered part of it, but there were things it wouldn't cover. My dad panicked."
"How much did he borrow?"
"Seventy-five thousand."
Roman looked at the note.
"And now you owe one eighty-four?"
"Apparently."
"That's impossible."
"Welcome to my life."
"Who collects?"
"A company."
"Name."
Claire hesitated.
"Northstar Recovery Holdings."
Roman's expression changed.
It was subtle.
Claire saw it.
"You know them."
Roman didn't answer.
"You know them."
"I know the name."
"How?"
Roman walked toward the window.
Snow covered the hospital parking lot.
Northstar Recovery Holdings.
He hadn't heard that name in years.
But he remembered exactly where.
His father's office.
Roman had been twenty-two.
He'd walked into a meeting he wasn't supposed to hear and found his father arguing with Roman's uncle, Salvatore.
Northstar is supposed to be dead.
That was what his father had said.
Roman remembered because Salvatore had slammed the office door immediately afterward.
Three months later, Roman's father was dead.
Officially, a heart attack.
Roman turned.
"Who told Vivian about the debt?"
"I don't know."
"What exactly did she say?"
Claire hesitated.
Roman waited.
Finally she whispered, "She knew Lily's facility."
His jaw tightened.
"Anything else?"
"She knew the balance. She said financial arrangements could change."
"When?"
"Two weeks ago."
"And you didn't tell me."
Claire laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"Tell you?"
"Yes."
"Mr. DeLuca, your fiancée was threatening a maid. Who exactly did you think people would believe?"
Roman had no answer.
That bothered him.
Claire looked toward the window.
"I needed the job."
Roman studied her profile.
For two years, Claire Bennett had existed around him without truly entering his attention.
He knew she worked mornings most weeks.
He knew she sometimes brought coffee into his office.
He knew she laughed with Mrs. Patel in the kitchen.
That was about it.
He hadn't known about Lily.
Hadn't known about the debt.
Hadn't known his fiancée had been humiliating and threatening someone beneath his roof.
Power meant nothing if you didn't notice where it was being abused.
That thought stayed with him.
"I'll handle Northstar."
Claire turned.
"No."
"It's already handled."
"You don't understand."
"I understand debt."
"No. You understand money."
That stopped him.
Claire continued.
"Money isn't what they're collecting."
Roman's eyes narrowed.
"What does that mean?"
"My father tried paying them off before he died. Someone offered him the money. He refused."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"Then what happened?"
"He died three days later."
Silence filled the room.
Roman sat again.
"How?"
"Car accident."
Something cold moved through him.
"When?"
Claire gave him the date.
Roman stared at her.
It was the same week his father had discovered irregularities in several family-controlled companies.
Including Northstar.
Roman stood so quickly the chair scraped the floor.
Claire flinched.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying now."
He looked at her.
Fair.
His phone rang.
Howard.
Roman answered.
"What?"
"Sir, I'm at the estate. You asked me to review the cameras."
Roman walked toward the door.
"And?"
"There is something you need to see."
"What?"
"The south lawn camera stopped recording fourteen minutes before Miss Bennett left the house."
Roman's eyes moved toward Claire.
"Equipment failure?"
"No, sir."
Howard hesitated.
"It was manually disabled."
Roman's voice became very quiet.
"By whom?"
"We're checking access records."
Another pause.
"There's more."
Roman waited.
"The carriage house door was unlocked when security checked it this morning."
Roman frowned.
"It was locked last night."
"Yes."
"Howard."
"Someone went there after you brought Miss Bennett inside."
Roman felt the pieces shifting.
Claire hadn't been sent there merely to freeze.
Someone had expected her to find something.
Or someone had needed to retrieve something before Roman could.
"What was inside?"
"Most of it looks untouched."
"Most?"
"We found an empty storage cabinet."
Roman closed his eyes.
"Anything else?"
"An envelope."
"Addressed to whom?"
Howard's answer made Roman look directly at Claire.
"To Thomas Bennett."
Claire's father.
Roman tightened his grip on the phone.
"Don't touch it."
"Sir?"
"I'm coming."
He ended the call.
Claire was already pushing back her blanket.
"No."
She swung her legs toward the floor.
Roman stared.
"You're not leaving the hospital."
"If something has my father's name on it—"
"You nearly froze to death eight hours ago."
"And he's been dead six years."
Roman stepped between her and the door.
Claire glared up at him.
"Move."
"No."
"You're incredibly annoying."
"I've been called worse."
"I'll call security."
"This hospital wing belongs to a foundation my family funds."
Claire stared.
"Of course it does."
Despite everything, Roman almost laughed.
Instead, he handed her the note.
"Rest. I'll bring you whatever is in that envelope."
"Why should I trust you?"
Roman looked at her for a long moment.
"You shouldn't."
Claire hadn't expected that.
"Not yet," he added.
Then he left.
At DeLuca House, Christmas morning looked like the aftermath of a beautiful disaster.
Half-empty champagne glasses remained on tables.
Candles had burned down.
The giant Christmas tree still glowed.
Vivian was gone.
Roman noticed immediately.
"Where is she?"
Howard looked uncomfortable.
"Ms. Mercer left around six."
"Without speaking to me?"
"Yes."
Roman said nothing.
They walked toward the service office.
The envelope sat inside a clear evidence sleeve.
Roman read the handwriting.
THOMAS BENNETT.
Below it were four words.
IF THEY COME BACK.
Roman felt a chill that had nothing to do with winter.
"Open it," Howard said.
Roman did.
Inside was an old photograph.
Five men stood outside a warehouse.
Roman recognized two immediately.
His father.
And Vivian's father, Charles Mercer.
The third man took longer.
Then Roman remembered him.
Salvatore DeLuca.
His uncle.
Claire's father stood beside them.
The fifth man's face had been scratched out.
Roman turned the photograph over.
A sentence had been written on the back.
Northstar isn't a lender.
It's how they own people.
Beneath it was a date.
Three days before Thomas Bennett died.
Roman stared at the photograph until Howard spoke.
"Sir?"
Roman looked again at his father's face.
Northstar.
Thomas Bennett.
Charles Mercer.
Salvatore.
All connected.
His phone vibrated.
A text from an unknown number.
He opened it.
There was a photograph attached.
Claire.
Taken through the hospital window less than five minutes earlier.
Roman's blood went cold.
Below the photograph was one sentence.
May you like
SHE SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE SNOW.
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