Chapter 5 - Amelia’s Last Letter
Roman did not open the envelope immediately.
Claire understood why.
A sealed letter could still contain hope.
Once opened, it became truth.
They returned to the mansion at 2:40 a.m.
Burke was taken somewhere Claire deliberately did not ask about.
Celeste came willingly.
The boys slept together in Roman’s room, all four curled across a bed large enough to hold a basketball team.
Claire sat downstairs in the library while Roman turned Amelia’s blue envelope over in his hands.
Celeste stood across the room.
“You had this for three years?” Roman asked.
“Yes.”
“And you never gave it to me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Amelia made me promise.”
Roman laughed once.
There was nothing humorous in it.
“My wife is dead because everyone around me seems to have been honoring promises I knew nothing about.”
Celeste flinched.
Claire watched carefully.
She had expected Amelia’s sister to resemble Harrison Devereux.
Cold.
Manipulative.
Instead Celeste looked exhausted.
Afraid.
“Open it,” she whispered.
Roman broke the seal.
Inside were four pages.
And a key.
A small brass key taped to the final sheet.
Roman began reading.
His face changed by degrees.
Anger.
Confusion.
Pain.
Then disbelief.
Claire looked away.
The letter was not hers.
After several minutes, Roman lowered it.
“What does it say?” Celeste asked.
“You know.”
“I never read it.”
Roman looked at her.
“She knew Harrison was moving money through Vale Shipping.”
“Yes.”
“She knew Burke had been paying someone inside my organization.”
“Yes.”
“And she knew someone intended to kill her.”
Celeste’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Roman stood so quickly the chair fell backward.
“Then why didn’t she tell me?”
“She tried.”
“No.”
“She tried, Roman.”
“She left a recording for her father. She gave you a letter. She spoke to Burke. Apparently everyone knew except me.”
“Because she didn’t know who inside your house she could trust.”
The accusation struck.
Roman went still.
Celeste continued more softly.
“Your business was changing. You were cutting ties with people your father had worked with. Amelia knew that made you vulnerable.”
Claire remembered the recording.
He’s trying to leave it.
Roman had been trying to leave organized crime behind.
For his sons.
“What is the key?” Claire asked.
Roman looked at it.
Celeste shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Roman read the last page again.
Then he handed the letter to Claire.
She hesitated.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
The handwriting was elegant.
The final paragraph read:
Roman,
If you are holding this, something happened before I could make things right.
Do not become the man everyone expects grief to turn you into.
Our sons need their father more than they need revenge.
The key is for the place where we made our first promise.
You will understand.
Trust the person who chooses the boys when choosing them costs something.
Claire read that sentence twice.
Roman noticed.
“She couldn’t have meant you.”
“I would hope not. We never met.”
Celeste suddenly leaned forward.
“The first promise.”
Roman looked at her.
“The lake house.”
“No,” Claire said.
“The boathouse?”
Roman shook his head.
“That was where we first kissed.”
Celeste almost smiled through tears.
“Amelia told me you proposed there.”
“I did.”
“But the first promise?”
Roman stared at the brass key.
Then his face changed.
“The train station.”
Thirty-eight minutes later, against every sensible instinct Claire possessed, she was in another armored vehicle.
This time Celeste rode with them.
“Tell me again why I’m coming?” Claire asked.
Roman looked at her.
“You notice things.”
“That is the least flattering job qualification I’ve ever received.”
“You found the USB.”
“By looking under a desk.”
“You got Lucas talking.”
“I gave him pastry.”
“You challenged me.”
“That one I’ll accept.”
They reached the old Union Station storage annex shortly before dawn.
Years earlier, Roman explained, he and Amelia had hidden there from Harrison after she skipped a formal engagement dinner.
“We were twenty-four.”
“You were hiding from her father?”
“He wanted her to marry someone else.”
Claire glanced at him.
“You?”
“Not approved.”
“I cannot imagine why.”
Roman nearly smiled.
Locker 314 accepted the brass key.
Inside sat a metal box.
Mason opened it carefully.
No explosives.
No trap.
Only documents.
Bank transfers.
Photographs.
A second USB drive.
And a ledger.
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“This is Harrison’s handwriting.”
Celeste leaned closer.
“These are campaign donations.”
“To whom?” Claire asked.
Roman turned pages.
“Judges. Aldermen. Port officials.”
Mason’s expression hardened.
“This is enough to bury him.”
“Maybe.”
Claire pointed to one line.
“What’s ‘A.V.’?”
Roman looked.
A payment of $250,000.
Three days before Amelia’s death.
Mason’s face changed.
Roman noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Mason.”
The security chief stared at the initials.
Then at Roman.
“Your father.”
Claire frowned.
“I thought Roman’s father was dead.”
“He is,” Celeste said.
Mason looked pale.
“Antonio Vale was alive when this payment was made.”
Roman closed the ledger.
“My father hated Harrison.”
“Publicly,” Mason said.
Roman looked at him.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying maybe they had business privately.”
Silence.
Roman took out his phone.
“Find everything connected to that payment.”
Mason nodded.
Then Claire noticed another envelope beneath the ledger.
It had one word written on it.
LUCAS.
Her heart tightened.
She handed it to Roman.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Four-year-old Lucas sleeping on a couch.
Behind him, through a doorway, Amelia stood arguing with someone.
Only half of the second person was visible.
A man.
Dark suit.
Silver watch.
Roman stared at the watch.
Claire had seen that watch before.
She looked at Mason.
He was wearing it.
Mason followed her gaze.
His face went blank.
Roman looked at his security chief.
Then at the photograph.
“Mason.”
Mason stepped backward.
“Roman—”
“You were there.”
“Listen to me.”
“The night Amelia died.”
“I can explain.”
Roman’s voice dropped.
“You had better.”
Mason slowly removed his weapon and placed it on the floor.
Claire’s pulse thundered.
“I followed her.”
Roman took a step toward him.
“Why?”
“Because Antonio told me to.”
Roman stopped.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“My father had been dead two years when Lucas started remembering.”
“But he was alive the night Amelia died.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“Why did he tell you to follow my wife?”
Mason looked at the floor.
“To find out whether she was meeting Harrison.”
“Was she?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“She left Devereux House with Celeste.”
Celeste shook her head.
“No. I left through the east gate alone.”
Mason looked at her.
“That’s what I thought too.”
Claire felt the room closing in.
Roman said, “Who was with Amelia?”
Mason swallowed.
“Someone wearing your sister-in-law’s coat.”
Celeste went white.
“Who?”
“I never saw her face.”
Roman grabbed Mason by the jacket.
“You’ve had three years to tell me this.”
“I thought Amelia lost control of the car!”
“You thought?”
“I saw Burke at the scene. By the time I reached the road, the car had already gone through the barrier.”
Roman’s eyes burned.
“And you said nothing.”
“Your father ordered me to.”
“My father died six months later.”
“I know.”
Roman shoved him away.
Claire picked up the ledger.
Something didn’t make sense.
The payment marked A.V.
The date.
The timing.
“Mason.”
Everyone looked at her.
“When did Roman’s father become sick?”
“Months before the accident.”
“How sick?”
Roman answered.
“Advanced lung cancer.”
“Could he drive?”
“No.”
“Work?”
“Barely.”
Claire tapped the ledger.
“Then why was Harrison paying him a quarter million dollars three days before Amelia died?”
No one answered.
Claire looked closer at the initials.
The ink seemed different.
She turned several pages.
“Harrison didn’t write this entry.”
Roman frowned.
“What?”
“Look at the fours.”
She pointed.
“The ledger writer makes open-top fours everywhere else. This one is closed.”
Celeste leaned over.
Claire continued.
“Someone added this later.”
Roman looked toward Mason.
“You?”
“No.”
“Who had access to this ledger?”
Celeste whispered, “Harrison’s financial office.”
“Names.”
“My father. Burke. His accountant.”
She stopped.
Roman saw it.
“Who else?”
Celeste’s face had lost all color.
“My brother.”
Claire frowned.
“You have a brother?”
Roman answered.
“Andrew Devereux.”
“Where is he?”
No one spoke.
Then Celeste whispered, “He disappeared two weeks after Amelia died.”
Roman stared at her.
“You told me he moved to Europe.”
“That’s what Father said.”
Roman looked back at the photograph.
At the silver watch.
At the payment forged to frame his father.
Claire felt a horrible possibility forming.
“What did Andrew look like?”
Celeste pulled out her phone.
She searched.
Then turned the screen around.
Claire’s blood went cold.
Andrew Devereux stood in a family photograph wearing a charcoal coat.
Gray at the temples.
Almost identical to Burke from a distance.
But that wasn’t what frightened Claire.
Standing beside Andrew was a much younger man.
A man Claire recognized immediately.
Her former executive chef.
Marshall.
The man who had fired her only hours earlier.
Roman saw her face.
“What?”
Claire pointed at the photograph.
“That man.”
“Who?”
“My boss.”
Roman stared at her.
Claire whispered, “Marshall didn’t fire me because I was late.”
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered slowly.
“Hello?”
Chef Marshall’s voice came through.
“Claire.”
Her mouth went dry.
“Why are you calling?”
“You should never have gone home with Roman Vale.”
Roman reached for the phone.
Claire put it on speaker.
Marshall continued.
“You were supposed to be nobody.”
Roman’s eyes hardened.
Then Marshall said, “Now Harrison wants you dead.”
The line went silent.
May you like
A second later, the locker-room door slammed shut behind them.
And smoke began pouring through the ventilation system.
