Chapter 2 - The Greenhouse Before Midnight

Nicolas did not wait for Celeste.

He walked through the ballroom.

Past the white roses.

Past the guests.

Past Henri Armand.

Henri stepped into his path.

“Nicolas.”

Nicolas stopped.

Henri lowered his voice.

“You do not know what Diana became.”

Edwin answered before Nicolas could.

“She became a woman you spent seventeen years making sure he never met.”

Henri looked at him.

“You should have stayed with flowers.”

Edwin smiled faintly.

“I tried.”

Nicolas turned toward me.

“Grace.”

“Yes?”

“Bring the letters.”

I gathered them from the table.

Celeste followed us into the hall.

“Nicolas.”

He kept walking.

She caught his arm.

“Please.”

He turned.

Her face was wet with tears.

“I was afraid of my father.”

Nicolas looked at Henri.

Then back at her.

“So was my mother.”

Celeste flinched.

Nicolas removed her hand.

“You had six weeks to tell me.”

“I know.”

“You had every morning.”

“Yes.”

“Every dinner.”

“Yes.”

“Every time I asked why you were distracted.”

She looked down.

Nicolas’s voice softened.

“That is the part I cannot understand.”

Celeste cried quietly.

“I thought if I waited, I could fix it without losing you.”

Nicolas stared at her.

“That is what everyone says right before they decide someone else’s life for them.”

He left.

Edwin drove.

Nicolas sat beside him.

I sat in the back with the letters.

Snow had started falling.

The greenhouse stood behind an abandoned Moretti summer house.

Glass roof.

Ivy.

One light inside.

Nicolas did not move when we arrived.

Edwin looked at him.

“She came here every spring.”

“I remember.”

“You were five the last time.”

Nicolas looked through the windshield.

“My father said the greenhouse was demolished.”

“It almost was.”

“Who kept it?”

Edwin smiled.

“Your mother.”

Nicolas opened the car door.

Inside, the air smelled like wet soil.

And roses.

Not white.

Red.

Yellow.

Pink.

Everywhere.

A woman stood near the far bench.

Silver in her dark hair.

Thin.

Elegant.

Hands dirty from soil.

She turned.

Nicolas stopped.

Her face changed.

For one second, she looked exactly like the photograph from seventeen years earlier.

“Nico?”

His breath disappeared.

Nobody called him that anymore.

Not since childhood.

Diana took one step.

Then stopped.

Nicolas stared at her.

“You are alive.”

She nodded.

“I am.”

He looked at the roses.

Then at her.

“I buried you.”

Her face broke.

“I know.”

“I stood beside an empty coffin.”

“I know.”

“You watched?”

Diana closed her eyes.

“From a car across the cemetery.”

Nicolas laughed once.

It sounded painful.

“You watched your own funeral.”

“Yes.”

“And me?”

“Yes.”

“How old was I?”

“Fifteen.”

Nicolas looked away.

Diana whispered:

“I wanted to get out.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because Henri had men beside you.”

Nicolas turned back.

“What?”

“At school.”

“At my house?”

“Yes.”

“My father knew?”

Her silence changed everything.

Nicolas stepped closer.

“My father knew Henri was watching me?”

“Yes.”

“He allowed it?”

“No.”

Diana took a breath.

“He was the reason Henri had to watch.”

Nicolas frowned.

Diana looked toward Edwin.

The florist nodded.

She continued.

“Your father was building a case against Henri.”

Nicolas stared.

“Using what?”

“Accounts.”

“Money laundering?”

“Yes.”

“Through Moretti companies?”

“And Armand companies.”

Nicolas’s jaw tightened.

“So my father was involved.”

“At first.”

Nicolas looked at her.

“At first?”

Diana sat down.

“Your father and Henri started together.”

Silence.

“Then what changed?”

“You.”

Nicolas stopped.

Diana smiled sadly.

“Your father thought crime was business until he had a son.”

Nicolas did not move.

“He wanted out?”

“Yes.”

“Like that?”

“No.”

Diana shook her head.

“There is no ‘like that’ with men like Henri.”

Nicolas looked at the letters in my hands.

“Why did you keep writing if you thought contacting me would get me killed?”

Diana looked at him.

“Because seventeen years is a long time to obey fear.”

Nicolas swallowed.

“And six weeks ago?”

She looked down.

“I saw the engagement announcement.”

“To Celeste.”

“Yes.”

“And you went to Edwin.”

“I wanted to know whether Henri was using you.”

Nicolas’s expression hardened.

“Was he?”

Diana did not answer.

That was answer enough.

Nicolas whispered:

“The merger.”

“Yes.”

“What did Henri want?”

Diana stood.

She walked to a locked cabinet.

Opened it.

Inside was a black folder.

She handed it to Nicolas.

The first page showed a corporate chart.

Moretti Holdings.

Armand International.

Joint control after marriage.

Nicolas looked at her.

“This is not a normal merger.”

“No.”

He flipped pages.

Property transfers.

Voting rights.

Port leases.

Insurance trusts.

Then one line.

CONTINGENT ON MARRIAGE BETWEEN N. MORETTI AND C. ARMAND.

Nicolas stared.

“My engagement was a condition?”

Diana nodded.

“Henri has been trying to recreate the arrangement he had with your father.”

Nicolas looked at Edwin.

“Did Celeste know?”

Diana answered.

“Not when she met you.”

“Later?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Before she proposed the merger.”

Nicolas closed his eyes.

Celeste had told him the merger was her idea.

A way to unite their legitimate businesses.

He opened them.

“Why did you meet her?”

Diana’s voice became quieter.

“Because she came here.”

Nicolas froze.

“She knew about this place?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“Henri told her.”

Nicolas’s face hardened.

“Why?”

Diana looked at the white rose petal inside his letter.

“Because he wanted her to convince me to disappear permanently.”

Nobody spoke.

Nicolas looked at his mother.

“What did Celeste offer you?”

Diana gave a sad smile.

“Nothing.”

“What did she say?”

Diana looked toward the greenhouse door.

“She told me she loved you.”

Nicolas stopped.

“And then?”

“She asked me to leave the country.”

His expression changed.

Diana continued.

“She said if I stayed, Henri would destroy you.”

Nicolas laughed bitterly.

“So she chose for me too.”

Diana stepped closer.

“She was terrified.”

“So were you.”

“Yes.”

“So was my father.”

Diana looked at him.

“Yes.”

Nicolas held the black folder.

“And somehow I am the only person who never got told what I was supposed to be afraid of.”

Diana’s eyes filled.

He looked at the letters.

“Why were these returned?”

“I sent them through a private post box.”

“Who intercepted them?”

“I did not know.”

A voice came from the greenhouse entrance.

“I did.”

Everyone turned.

Celeste stood there.

Snow on her crimson gown.

Behind her was Henri.

Nicolas stared at them.

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Henri closed the door.

Then locked it.