Chapter 2 - The Woman at Table Seventeen
For several seconds, Sarah thought she had misunderstood.
“The Ashford name?”
Victoria's expression changed immediately.
She had said too much.
Raven noticed.
Of course he noticed.
His entire demeanor sharpened.
“What records?”
“Raven—”
“What records, Mother?”
The word mother didn't sound affectionate.
It sounded like an accusation twenty years old.
Nearby guests were beginning to notice the tension, and Sarah's professional instincts overpowered her confusion.
“Not here.”
Three heads turned toward her.
Sarah lowered her voice.
“You have three hundred guests watching. The foundation presentation begins in eleven minutes, and half the board is standing twenty feet away.”
Raven's eyes remained fixed on Victoria.
“Private lounge,” Sarah continued. “West corridor. Nobody is using it until after dinner.”
Silian looked between them.
“Should I—”
“Stay with your grandmother,” Sarah said.
Raven's gaze snapped toward Silian.
Sarah noticed.
So did Silian.
To his credit, Silian merely smiled politely.
“I'll save you a seat.”
His fingers briefly touched Sarah's arm.
Raven watched the gesture.
Again.
Sarah suddenly remembered his question.
Since when do you date?
She pushed the thought away.
“Five minutes,” Raven said.
Victoria followed him toward the corridor.
Sarah started after them.
Raven stopped.
“This is family business.”
Sarah stared at him.
“Then why did your mother say my family name?”
That stopped him.
Victoria answered.
“Because you are part of it.”
Raven turned sharply.
Sarah felt the floor disappear beneath her.
“What exactly does that mean?”
Victoria glanced toward the ballroom.
“Not here.”
They entered the private lounge.
Raven closed the door.
Sarah remained standing.
Victoria sat gracefully on a velvet sofa.
Raven did not.
“You have five minutes.”
“Twenty years,” Victoria said. “And you're giving me five minutes?”
“You had twenty years.”
Pain briefly crossed her face.
Raven showed no reaction.
Sarah suddenly felt she had walked into a room containing two decades of grief that didn't belong to her.
“I can leave.”
“No,” Victoria said.
Raven said nothing.
That was permission enough.
Victoria opened her evening bag and removed a folded envelope.
Old.
Yellowed.
Sarah immediately recognized the handwriting on the front.
Her father's.
She stopped breathing.
Daniel Ashford had died when Sarah was nineteen.
He had been an accountant for a private investment company. Quiet, methodical, deeply ethical.
The kind of man who returned ten dollars when a cashier gave him too much change.
“Where did you get that?”
Victoria extended the envelope.
Sarah took it.
Her name was written across the front.
For Saraphina, when she is old enough to understand.
Her fingers trembled.
“My father wrote this.”
“Yes.”
“How did you get it?”
Victoria looked at Raven.
“Daniel Ashford worked for your father.”
Raven's expression didn't move.
Sarah's did.
“My father never worked for Cavalcante Holdings.”
“Not Cavalcante Holdings,” Victoria said. “Your father's private organization.”
The implication hung there.
Sarah knew the rumors surrounding the Cavalcante family.
Everyone in New York did.
She had deliberately avoided asking which were true.
Raven's voice became colder.
“My father died fifteen years ago.”
“I know.”
“And you're accusing him of what?”
“I'm telling you Daniel Ashford discovered something.”
Sarah looked down at the envelope.
“Discovered what?”
Victoria hesitated.
A knock interrupted them.
Sarah checked the time.
“Foundation presentation.”
Raven cursed softly.
He looked at Victoria.
“This conversation isn't finished.”
“It hasn't even started.”
Raven opened the door.
Then looked at Sarah.
“You're with me.”
She almost laughed.
“I'm coordinating your gala. Of course I'm with you.”
“That isn't what I meant.”
Their eyes met.
Neither spoke.
Sarah followed him into the ballroom.
For the next hour she performed her job while her father's unopened letter seemed to burn inside her clutch.
Raven delivered the foundation speech flawlessly.
Millions would be raised for children's hospitals and literacy programs.
Sarah should have been concentrating on donation totals.
Instead she kept hearing Victoria.
Daniel Ashford worked for your father.
During dinner, Sarah finally returned to table seventeen.
Silian pulled out her chair.
“You disappeared.”
“Work.”
“Your face says otherwise.”
“Later.”
His grandmother Elena watched Sarah closely.
“You met Victoria.”
Sarah nodded.
“You know her?”
“For fifty-seven years.”
Sarah stared.
Elena sipped her champagne.
“Our families knew each other in Sicily before any of us came here.”
“Grandma,” Silian warned.
“What?”
“You're doing the mysterious-old-lady thing.”
“I am old. I have earned mystery.”
Despite everything, Sarah smiled.
Across the ballroom, Raven was speaking with a senator and two CEOs.
But he was looking at Sarah.
She looked away first.
Silian noticed.
“So that's interesting.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Silian.”
“Your terrifying employer has checked this table six times.”
“He's monitoring the event.”
“Does monitoring usually involve staring specifically at you?”
Sarah reached for her water.
“We work together.”
“Sure.”
“Stop.”
Silian grinned.
Then he leaned toward her.
“Should I make him jealous?”
Sarah nearly choked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Interesting choice of response.”
“There is nothing to make jealous.”
Silian looked over her shoulder.
Sarah didn't need to turn.
She knew.
Raven was behind her.
“Miss Ashford.”
Silian's grin became unbearable.
Sarah slowly turned.
“Yes, Mr. Cavalcante?”
“The auction schedule.”
“In twelve minutes.”
“I need you.”
Silian coughed.
Raven's eyes narrowed.
“For the auction,” Sarah clarified.
“I assumed.”
Silian looked innocent.
Sarah stood.
As they walked away, she whispered, “You could have called me.”
“I did.”
She checked her phone.
Three missed calls.
“Oh.”
“You're distracted.”
“My dead father's handwriting is currently inside my purse.”
Raven's expression softened.
Barely.
“You haven't opened it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because once I do, whatever is inside becomes real.”
Raven understood that.
She could see it.
They reached the stage.
Sarah handed him the auction notes.
His fingers touched hers.
Neither moved immediately.
“About earlier,” Raven said.
“Which catastrophe?”
“Silian.”
Sarah blinked.
“That's what you want to discuss?”
“You didn't answer.”
“Answer what?”
“Since when do you date him?”
Something about his tone irritated her.
“We've been dating for two months.”
The lie came easily.
Raven's jaw tightened.
“And you didn't mention it.”
“You don't know what I eat for breakfast.”
“Oatmeal.”
Sarah froze.
Raven continued.
“Cinnamon. No raisins. You buy it from the café downstairs Monday through Thursday. Fridays you get an almond croissant because you think surviving the week deserves compensation.”
Sarah stared.
“How do you know that?”
“You leave receipts.”
“I throw those away.”
“I notice patterns, Miss Ashford.”
Her own words.
Thrown back at her.
Before she could respond, the auctioneer approached.
“Mr. Cavalcante, we're ready.”
Raven stepped onto the stage.
Sarah remained frozen.
Silian found her ten minutes later.
“You look like someone told you Santa isn't real.”
“My boss knows my breakfast order.”
Silian considered this.
“Terrifying.”
“Exactly.”
“Or romantic.”
“Don't.”
The auction raised nearly four million dollars.
By eleven, guests began leaving.
Sarah finally escaped into the west corridor.
She took out her father's letter.
Her hands trembled as she broke the seal.
Inside were three pages.
She recognized every curve of his handwriting.
My dearest Sarah,
If you are reading this, then either I finally found the courage to tell you the truth, or circumstances prevented me from doing it myself.
Her eyes blurred.
She continued.
For twelve years, I managed financial accounts belonging to Antonio Cavalcante. Some were legitimate. Others were not. I told myself numbers were only numbers and that I wasn't responsible for what men did with them. I was wrong.
Sarah's heart hammered.
Footsteps approached.
Raven.
He stopped when he saw the letter.
She continued reading.
When Raven was fourteen years old, I discovered someone was stealing from Antonio and disguising the theft as transactions authorized by Victoria.
Sarah looked up.
Raven's face changed.
“What?”
She handed him the page.
He read.
His eyes hardened.
Sarah unfolded the second sheet.
Victoria was innocent. Someone wanted Antonio to believe she had betrayed him. She came to me for help. I gathered evidence. Before I could deliver it, I discovered the person responsible knew what I had done.
Raven read over Sarah's shoulder.
The next sentence made him stop breathing.
I gave Victoria the evidence and told her to leave immediately because staying would place Raven in danger. She did not abandon her son. She left to protect him.
Raven stepped backward.
“No.”
Sarah looked at him.
“Raven—”
“No.”
His face had gone pale.
“My mother left without saying goodbye.”
“The letter says—”
“My father told me she chose another man.”
Sarah continued reading.
There was one final paragraph.
If anything happens to me, Sarah must never become involved with the Cavalcantes. She deserves a life untouched by the choices I made.
Below it was a name.
Sarah stared at it.
Raven leaned closer.
“What?”
She showed him.
The man who framed Victoria was Malcolm Voss.
Raven's expression transformed.
Sarah knew that name.
Malcolm Voss wasn't some forgotten employee.
He was chairman of Cavalcante Holdings.
Raven's father's oldest friend.
And the man Raven trusted more than anyone alive.
A voice sounded from behind them.
“You shouldn't have opened that letter here.”
Sarah spun around.
Malcolm Voss stood at the end of the corridor.
May you like
And he was smiling.
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