Chapter 4 - The Wife Roman Was Never Meant to Trust

Roman opened the door.

No one stood there.

The hallway was empty.

On the carpet sat a white envelope.

Roman picked it up.

Inside was a photograph.

Uncle Thomas.

Standing beside Julian Vale.

Taken that morning.

Celeste covered her mouth.

Roman looked at his father.

“You knew?”

“No.”

“You suspected him.”

“Yes.”

“That is not the same thing.”

“It was enough to stay away.”

Roman tore the photograph in half.

Then he looked at Celeste.

“Tell me everything.”

She sat down.

For the first time all night, she looked less like Roman Arden’s elegant wife and more like a frightened younger sister.

“My father used Julian first.”

Roman leaned against the wall.

“How?”

“He made him sign documents when he was eighteen.”

Michael said quietly:

“Lorenzo made everyone dirty so no one could leave clean.”

Celeste nodded.

“When our father died, Julian inherited the accounts.”

“Five years ago.”

“Yes.”

“And three years ago he asked you for money.”

“Yes.”

“Then you found my father.”

“Yes.”

Roman looked at Michael.

“And instead of telling me, the two of you started working together.”

Celeste looked ashamed.

“We were trying to identify who was helping Julian inside Arden Financial.”

“You could have trusted me.”

Michael answered.

“I did.”

Roman turned toward him.

“No. You trusted a plan.”

Michael did not argue.

Celeste said:

“Roman, Julian had access to things he should never have known.”

“What things?”

“Our honeymoon route.”

Roman’s face changed.

“My hospital records after the shooting in Newark.”

He stared.

“The private security rotation at the townhouse.”

Roman straightened.

Only a few people had those.

Celeste continued.

“And the location of your mother’s grave.”

Roman looked confused.

“Why would that matter?”

Michael opened another envelope.

Inside was a photograph of a stone crypt.

Roman’s mother’s name was engraved across it.

Below the photograph were handwritten numbers.

Roman recognized them.

“A bank box.”

Michael nodded.

“Your mother hid something before she died.”

Roman’s voice lowered.

“What?”

“We never knew.”

Celeste stood.

“Until February.”

The photograph Mr. Price had shown us.

Michael and Celeste outside the small house.

That was not his hiding place.

It belonged to Roman’s late mother’s sister.

Inside the house, they had found a key taped beneath an old piano.

A key to a private vault.

Roman stared at them.

“You opened it?”

Celeste shook her head.

“We couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Michael looked at him.

“The bank requires two family signatures.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed.

“Yours and mine.”

“Yes.”

“Then why invite me to the anniversary instead of calling me?”

“Because I needed to know whether Julian’s source was still close to you.”

Roman looked furious.

“So the empty chair was bait.”

Celeste whispered:

“Yes.”

Roman stared at her.

“You set a place for my father so someone would react.”

“I sent the name card to Mr. Price.”

“The envelope with your handwriting.”

“Yes.”

“And you told me nothing.”

“If the source saw you react before tonight, Michael would disappear again.”

Roman walked to the window.

The city lights reflected across the glass.

I watched his shoulders rise and fall.

Then he spoke without turning.

“Who reacted?”

Celeste looked at Michael.

Michael looked at me.

I felt every eye in the room.

“What?”

Michael said:

“The chair was moved before dinner.”

I frowned.

“I moved it because Celeste told me to.”

“No.”

He shook his head.

“Before that.”

Celeste looked confused.

Michael continued.

“At four this afternoon, someone entered the dining room and lifted the cushion.”

Roman turned.

“How do you know?”

Michael pulled a small camera from his coat.

“The card contained a tracker.”

I stared.

Roman’s expression went cold.

“Who touched it?”

Michael placed his phone on the table.

One image appeared.

A hand.

Male.

A heavy gold ring.

Roman stopped.

He knew it.

I did too.

Every employee in the townhouse knew it.

A black onyx ring with the Arden crest.

Uncle Thomas wore it every day.

Celeste whispered:

“Oh, God.”

Roman looked at his father.

“Thomas was in my house.”

“Yes.”

“He told me he was in Boston.”

“He lied.”

Roman took out his phone.

Michael grabbed it.

“Do not call him.”

“Why?”

“Because if Thomas knows we know—”

Roman pulled his phone back.

“He already knows.”

A message appeared.

Unknown number.

Roman opened it.

One photograph.

Mr. Price.

Still inside the townhouse.

Sitting in a chair.

A man stood behind him.

Only his hand was visible.

Black onyx ring.

Below the photograph were six words.

BRING MICHAEL.

BRING THE ORIGINAL LEDGER.

Roman looked up.

“What original ledger?”

Michael’s face lost all color.

Celeste stood.

“You said the second ledger was destroyed.”

Michael whispered:

“I lied about that too.”

Roman stared at him.

“Where is it?”

Michael looked toward the ceiling.

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Then said:

“Inside this hotel.”