Chapter 5 - Celeste’s Perfect Lie
The fire at Saint Aurelia’s had never made the newspapers.
That alone told Rafferty something.
A building full of children partially burning should have created records.
Fire department reports.
Insurance claims.
Local coverage.
Church correspondence.
Instead, Silvano found only one paragraph buried in an old municipal archive.
MINOR ELECTRICAL INCIDENT. NO FATALITIES.
Rafferty remembered far more than a minor incident.
He remembered choking on smoke.
He remembered bells ringing.
He remembered adults shouting.
And most clearly, he remembered Fay gripping his hand beneath an oak tree outside the monastery while flames colored the windows orange.
“They’re going to send Mama away,” she had said.
Rafferty had been eight.
He had not understood why.
“I’ll find you.”
“You don’t even know where I’ll go.”
“I’ll find you anyway.”
“Promise?”
He had squeezed her hand.
“Promise.”
The next morning she was gone.
Rafferty had broken that promise for nearly three decades.
Now he intended to understand why.
At ten the following morning, August Vanderpool arrived at the Cain Estate without being invited.
Celeste came with him.
August was sixty-three, silver-haired and elegant in the effortless way of men who had never entered a room wondering whether they belonged there.
He walked into Rafferty’s study as if arriving for a business meeting.
Celeste followed wearing cream-colored silk and an expression of wounded dignity.
Silvano closed the door behind them.
August did not sit.
“You embarrassed my daughter.”
Rafferty remained behind his desk.
“She embarrassed herself.”
Celeste’s eyes flashed.
“I knew that woman was manipulating you.”
Rafferty looked at her.
“How?”
“What?”
“How is she manipulating me?”
“She suddenly appears at our engagement event, then you discover some childhood connection?”
“She works for a catering company.”
“Convenient.”
“Are you suggesting Fay arranged the booking?”
Celeste hesitated.
August intervened.
“This is becoming childish.”
Rafferty slid a photograph across the desk.
August looked down.
His face did not change.
But Rafferty saw the pause.
Marguerite Delacroix stood beside August near Saint Aurelia’s service entrance.
Both were younger.
Marguerite appeared angry.
August appeared worried.
“What is this?” Rafferty asked.
August shrugged.
“An old photograph.”
“You knew her.”
“I met hundreds of charity employees.”
“You remember her?”
“No.”
Rafferty leaned back.
“You answered too quickly.”
August’s expression cooled.
“You invited us here to interrogate me about a cook from thirty years ago?”
“I didn’t invite you.”
Silvano almost smiled.
Celeste stepped forward.
“My father has done more charity work than anyone in this city.”
“That isn’t the defense you think it is.”
“What exactly are you accusing him of?”
“Nothing yet.”
Rafferty’s eyes returned to August.
“But I’d like to know why records connected to Marguerite Delacroix disappeared hours after I began looking into Saint Aurelia’s.”
August laughed.
“You believe I stole thirty-year-old paperwork because you had an argument with Celeste?”
“I didn’t say you stole anything.”
“Then what are we doing?”
“Watching how nervous you become.”
August’s jaw tightened.
Celeste turned to Rafferty.
“This is about Fay.”
“Yes.”
“You barely know her.”
“I know what you did to her.”
Celeste rolled her eyes.
“She knelt on a floor.”
“For three hours.”
“She could have stood whenever she wanted.”
Fay’s voice came from the doorway.
“No, I couldn’t.”
Every head turned.
Fay stood beside Helena.
She had come to the estate because Rafferty asked her to identify several copied records.
She had not expected the Vanderpools to be there.
Celeste stared.
“What are you doing here?”
Fay’s shoulders tensed.
Rafferty stood.
Before he could intervene, Fay answered for herself.
“Working.”
Celeste laughed.
“For him now?”
“At the hotel.”
“How quickly things improve when you attract the right man’s sympathy.”
Fay’s face went pale.
Rafferty moved around the desk.
“Enough.”
But Fay raised a hand.
“No.”
Rafferty stopped.
She looked directly at Celeste.
“I spent most of my life being quiet because people with more money than me confused silence with permission.”
Celeste crossed her arms.
Fay continued.
“You spilled that wine.”
Celeste’s expression hardened.
“You threatened my employer.”
No answer.
“You told me if I stood before you allowed it, you would make sure I never worked another event in this city.”
August turned toward his daughter.
“You said that?”
Celeste looked annoyed.
“She was disrespectful.”
August’s eyes changed.
Not compassion.
Calculation.
He realized witnesses might exist.
Fay saw it.
“So no,” she said. “I could not simply stand.”
Celeste stepped closer.
“You enjoyed every second of Rafferty finding you.”
Fay stared at her.
Rafferty’s voice became low.
“Celeste.”
But Fay answered.
“No.”
One word.
Steady.
“I was humiliated.”
Celeste opened her mouth.
“And scared,” Fay continued. “And angry at myself because I kept thinking about my daughter and telling myself I could endure a few more minutes if it meant I got paid.”
The room became silent.
“You want to know the worst part?”
Celeste said nothing.
“The worst part wasn’t kneeling.”
Fay’s eyes shone, but her voice remained controlled.
“It was watching everyone walk past.”
Even August looked away.
Fay turned toward Rafferty.
“That’s why I agreed to come here today. Not because I want revenge.”
She placed Marguerite’s letter on the desk.
“I want to know whether someone once did the same thing to my mother.”
August saw the handwriting.
For the first time, genuine alarm entered his face.
Rafferty noticed.
“So you do remember her.”
August recovered.
“I remember the letter.”
Celeste looked at him.
“Dad?”
He sighed.
“Marguerite believed money was being mishandled.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
Rafferty folded his arms.
“Then why was she dismissed?”
“She stole documents.”
Fay flinched.
“My mother didn’t steal.”
August looked at her.
“You were a child.”
“I knew her.”
“So did I.”
The words carried something unexpected.
Rafferty heard it.
“What does that mean?”
August hesitated.
Then he walked toward the window.
“Your mother was stubborn.”
Fay’s eyes narrowed.
“She thought stubbornness made her brave.”
“It often does.”
August glanced at Rafferty.
“And sometimes it makes people reckless.”
Rafferty’s patience thinned.
“What happened?”
August exhaled.
“There were irregularities.”
Celeste stared at him.
“You said there weren’t.”
“Not theft from children.”
“Then what?”
August rubbed his forehead.
“The foundation was using the monastery property as collateral while negotiating redevelopment.”
“Without permission?” Silvano asked.
“With signatures.”
“Whose?”
August did not answer.
Rafferty understood.
“Forged?”
August looked away.
Celeste whispered, “Dad.”
“It was your grandfather’s operation.”
That changed the room.
Celeste’s grandfather, Charles Vanderpool, had been dead for twelve years.
A celebrated philanthropist.
His portrait hung in museums and universities.
August continued.
“I was young. I discovered it after Marguerite did.”
“Did you help her?” Fay asked.
August’s silence answered.
Fay’s face tightened.
“You fired her.”
“I was told to.”
“You were an adult.”
“I had a family.”
“So did she.”
August closed his eyes briefly.
Rafferty watched him.
“What about the fire?”
August looked sharply toward him.
Celeste frowned.
“What fire?”
There.
That reaction appeared genuine.
Celeste did not know.
August did.
Rafferty stepped closer.
“The night Marguerite disappeared.”
August’s face lost color.
“It was an electrical fault.”
“That is what the report says.”
“Because that’s what happened.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“I’m not.”
Rafferty lowered his voice.
“Men who aren’t afraid look at me when they lie.”
August forced himself to meet Rafferty’s eyes.
For several seconds no one moved.
Finally August said, “You don’t understand the people involved.”
“My patience for vague warnings is disappearing.”
“It should not.”
“Was the fire deliberate?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Rafferty knew it.
Fay did too.
Before anyone could push further, August’s phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
Something shifted in his expression.
He rejected the call.
Rafferty noticed the number prefix.
A private office line from Cain Harbor Operations.
His own company.
“Who called you?”
“Nobody.”
“Show me.”
August laughed uneasily.
“You don’t own my phone.”
Rafferty’s gaze sharpened.
“No. But I own the number that just called it.”
Silvano was already checking his tablet.
A few seconds later his expression hardened.
“That extension belongs to Records Control.”
Rafferty stared at August.
Cain Harbor’s record department housed historical property contracts.
Including files from acquisitions connected to Saint Aurelia’s.
Rafferty turned to Silvano.
“Lock the archive.”
Silvano moved.
August stepped toward the door.
“I have had enough of this.”
Rafferty blocked him.
“No.”
Celeste raised her voice.
“You cannot hold us here.”
“I’m not holding anyone.”
He stepped aside.
“But if you leave now, don’t destroy anything on your way home.”
August’s eyes narrowed.
“You are making a dangerous mistake.”
Rafferty smiled without warmth.
“That sentence has been said to me by better men.”
August left.
Celeste remained.
She looked at Rafferty.
“You’re really choosing this woman over me?”
Fay stiffened.
Rafferty’s expression changed.
“This is not a competition between women.”
Celeste blinked.
“This is about what you did.”
“I apologized.”
“No, you haven’t.”
Celeste’s mouth opened.
Then closed.
Rafferty took the engagement ring from his desk drawer.
He placed it before her.
“This arrangement is finished.”
Celeste stared at the ring.
“You can’t.”
“I just did.”
“My family—”
“Can call my lawyers.”
“People are going to talk.”
“They usually do.”
“You will regret humiliating me.”
Rafferty’s eyes became cold.
“Be careful you don’t confuse consequences with humiliation.”
Celeste looked at Fay.
Hatred flashed.
Fay saw it.
So did Rafferty.
Celeste took the ring.
She walked out without another word.
The door slammed.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then Fay exhaled.
“I think she dislikes me.”
Silvano laughed.
Rafferty looked at Fay.
“You’re making jokes?”
“I’ve had a stressful week.”
He almost smiled.
Then Silvano’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
His expression vanished.
“What?”
Rafferty asked.
Silvano turned the screen.
Cain Harbor Records Control had been accessed eleven minutes earlier.
A staff member had attempted to remove two sealed boxes.
Security stopped him.
The man claimed he had received direct authorization.
“From whom?” Rafferty asked.
Silvano read the name.
Fay saw Rafferty’s face change.
The authorization carried the signature of Daniel Kessler.
Rafferty’s chief financial officer.
A man who had worked beside him for fifteen years.
A man with access to every Cain account.
Silvano added quietly, “There’s more.”
He showed Rafferty the box inventory.
One file concerned Saint Aurelia’s.
The other concerned a trust established twenty-eight years ago in Rafferty Cain’s own name.
A trust Rafferty had never known existed.
And the original beneficiary listed beneath his name was:
May you like
FAY DELACROIX.
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