Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Gone
They found Daphne Rowe before sunrise.
Not because Roman’s security team located her.
Roman no longer trusted them.
Not because the police found her.
Roman had not yet told them everything.
They found her because Daphne called Claire.
Lena’s clinic phone rang at 5:17 a.m.
Claire answered.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered, “You pulled Eli from the water.”
Claire looked at Roman.
He saw her face and stood.
“Yes.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
The woman started crying.
Claire covered the receiver.
“Trace?”
Lena shook her head.
Old landline.
No immediate system.
Roman stepped closer.
Claire put the call on speaker.
“Who are you?”
Silence.
Then:
“Daphne Rowe.”
Roman grabbed the phone.
“You stay on this line.”
“Roman?”
His face changed at the sound of her voice.
“You have thirty seconds to explain why my son recognized your ring.”
“He recognized a copy.”
“What?”
“My sister had one.”
Roman frowned.
“You don’t have a sister.”
“I did.”
Claire looked at Roman.
Daphne continued.
“Half sister. My father had another family. Her name is Celeste.”
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
Daphne inhaled shakily.
“Celeste worked for Malcolm.”
Roman went silent.
“She helped him with off-book surveillance. Parties. Hotels. Politicians. She could get into rooms men couldn’t.”
“And Amelia’s necklace?”
“Stolen.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“After Amelia died?”
“Before.”
Roman gripped the desk.
Daphne said, “Roman, Amelia didn’t die in a random crash.”
“I know.”
A stunned pause.
“You found the box.”
“Yes.”
“Then leave Charleston.”
“No.”
“Roman—”
“My son was thrown into the harbor.”
“I know!”
The desperation in Daphne’s voice shocked everyone.
“I saw it happen.”
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I followed Celeste.”
Claire stepped closer.
“What did you see?”
Daphne’s breathing shook.
“She took Eli from the estate. Malcolm drove.”
Roman’s expression turned lethal.
“You watched them take my child and didn’t call me?”
“I tried.”
“Try harder.”
“They monitor your phone.”
“I have hundreds of numbers.”
“And Malcolm has all of them.”
Claire interrupted.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
“Daphne.”
“I don’t know if I can trust him.”
Roman almost laughed.
“You called us.”
“I called you.”
Claire frowned.
“Why me?”
“Because you aren’t an Archer.”
That sentence landed hard.
Daphne gave them an address.
An abandoned church kitchen behind a homeless shelter near King Street.
“No security,” she warned.
Roman stared at the phone.
“Fine.”
“No police.”
“Fine.”
“Just Claire.”
“No.”
“Then I disappear.”
Roman’s hand tightened.
Claire said, “I’ll go.”
Roman looked at her as if she had suggested swimming back across the harbor.
“No.”
“She has information.”
“She may also have a gun.”
“So may your brother, your security chief, half your employees, and apparently every family crypt in Charleston.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Daphne said quietly, “Roman, Celeste will recognize you. She may be watching me.”
Claire made the decision.
“I go.”
Roman ended the call after getting exact instructions.
Then he turned on Claire.
“You are not doing this.”
“You don’t own me.”
“I know.”
The sharpness in his voice softened.
“That’s the problem.”
Claire blinked.
Roman looked away.
For the first time all night, billionaire Roman Archer seemed unable to form the right sentence.
Finally he said, “You have already almost died once because of my family.”
“Your son would be dead if I had decided danger was somebody else’s problem.”
“That doesn’t obligate you to keep saving us.”
“No.”
Claire met his eyes.
“It doesn’t.”
Something shifted between them.
Neither named it.
Eli appeared in the doorway.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Come back.”
Her throat tightened.
“I will.”
Roman eventually agreed on one condition.
He would be close.
Claire entered the shelter alone.
Daphne sat at the back of the kitchen wearing a baseball cap and oversized coat.
She looked older than the photograph.
Tired.
Thin.
Terrified.
Claire sat across from her.
Daphne’s eyes filled.
“How is Eli?”
“Alive.”
“Does he remember?”
“Enough.”
Daphne looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry isn’t going to help him.”
“No.”
“Truth might.”
Daphne nodded.
“Celeste and I share a father. She hated Amelia.”
“Why?”
“Because Amelia had everything Celeste thought should have been hers.”
“Roman?”
Daphne shook her head.
“Money. Position. Respect.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Celeste grew up watching me visit our father’s legitimate family while she was hidden away.”
“You?”
“Our father acknowledged me eventually. Never her.”
“So Malcolm recruited her.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“Information. Seduction. Blackmail.”
Claire stared.
“And Amelia’s death?”
Daphne began crying again.
“I gave Amelia evidence. I thought we could expose them.”
“Who?”
“Malcolm. Julian. Several port officials.”
“Was Julian in charge?”
“No.”
“Who was?”
Daphne looked toward the door.
“Charles Archer.”
Roman’s father.
Claire went still.
“But Charles is dead.”
“Now.”
Daphne leaned forward.
“Four years ago, Charles controlled everything.”
“Roman thought he did.”
“No. Roman had the title. Charles had the loyalties.”
Daphne explained.
Charles Archer had built a second business beneath the legal empire.
Smuggling.
Kickbacks.
Political bribery.
Illegal cargo hidden inside legitimate shipping routes.
Malcolm handled security.
Julian handled numbers.
At first, Julian hadn’t understood the full operation.
Then he had.
And instead of leaving, he joined.
“Amelia found out.”
Daphne nodded.
“She confronted Julian because she thought he would help her.”
“He warned his father.”
“Yes.”
“And Charles had her killed.”
Daphne’s eyes dropped.
“Malcolm arranged the crash.”
Claire felt sick.
“Celeste?”
“She stole Amelia’s necklace before the crash. Charles wanted Amelia’s office searched afterward. Celeste needed something that would get her through private areas without questions.”
“Why keep it?”
“Trophy.”
Claire looked toward the window.
“And tonight?”
“Eli found something.”
“The brass key.”
“No.”
Claire frowned.
“Then what?”
Daphne reached into her bag.
A photograph.
Amelia holding Eli as a baby.
Behind them stood Roman.
On the photograph’s edge was a man Claire hadn’t noticed before.
Charles Archer.
Eli’s grandfather.
“He found a recording,” Daphne said.
“What recording?”
“Charles admitting what they did.”
Claire’s heart jumped.
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then how do you know Eli found it?”
“Celeste told Malcolm.”
“When?”
“Three nights ago. I’ve been following her.”
Claire frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I came back to finish what Amelia started.”
The kitchen door opened.
Claire turned.
A man entered.
Not Roman.
Malcolm Reed.
Daphne’s face emptied.
“No.”
Malcolm smiled.
“You always were bad at disappearing.”
Claire stood.
Malcolm raised a gun.
“Sit.”
Claire didn’t.
“Roman knows where I am.”
“He knows where you were supposed to be.”
Daphne whispered, “There’s another exit.”
Malcolm heard.
“There isn’t.”
He stepped closer.
“Give me Amelia’s evidence.”
“I don’t have it.”
“I’m not asking twice.”
Claire looked toward the stainless-steel counter.
Knives.
Pans.
A fire extinguisher.
Malcolm followed her eyes.
“Don’t.”
Claire gave him a thin smile.
“You know what Roman said about me?”
Malcolm frowned.
“He said I make terrible decisions.”
Claire kicked the steel prep table.
It slammed into Malcolm.
The gun fired.
Daphne screamed.
Claire grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprayed.
White powder exploded through the kitchen.
Malcolm cursed.
Claire swung the extinguisher into his wrist.
The gun fell.
Daphne grabbed it.
“Move!”
They ran through the rear pantry.
Malcolm recovered quickly.
Too quickly.
A shot tore into the wall.
Claire shoved Daphne through the emergency door.
Roman’s car appeared at the alley entrance.
He was already out.
Roman saw Malcolm.
For one second, neither moved.
Thirteen years of loyalty stood between them.
Then Malcolm fired.
Roman pulled Claire down.
The bullet shattered a window.
Roman fired back.
Malcolm disappeared through the kitchen.
Roman grabbed Claire.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“Daphne?”
“No.”
He turned toward Daphne.
“You’re coming with us.”
She looked terrified.
“Malcolm will find me.”
Roman’s expression was colder than winter.
“Malcolm just shot at the wrong woman.”
Claire stared.
Wrong woman?
Roman realized what he had said.
Their eyes met.
No one spoke about it.
They drove to a secure garage owned by Lena’s brother.
Daphne told them the rest.
Charles Archer had died two years after Amelia.
Cancer.
But before his death, he transferred control of the criminal operation.
“To Julian?” Roman asked.
Daphne shook her head.
“Malcolm.”
Roman leaned back.
“So Julian works for Malcolm.”
“They work together. Julian provides legitimacy. Malcolm provides fear.”
Claire asked, “Why kidnap Eli now?”
Daphne answered immediately.
“Because Eli found Charles’s confession.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“How?”
“Amelia hid it.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Daphne looked at him.
“But Celeste does.”
“And where is Celeste?”
Daphne’s answer chilled the garage.
“Inside your house.”
Roman stood.
“What?”
“She never left.”
“Impossible.”
“She has been using another name.”
Roman stared.
Daphne pulled out another photograph.
Older.
Celeste with shorter blond hair.
Different makeup.
Different weight.
But the eyes were unmistakable.
Roman whispered the name before Claire could.
“Natalie.”
Claire remembered.
The quiet woman she had seen near Eli’s room when the private doctor was treating him.
Natalie Price.
Eli’s household tutor.
A woman with access to his bedroom.
A woman who could place a note beneath his pillow.
A woman who could play music through a hidden speaker.
Roman’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Celeste spoke.
“Come home, Roman.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“Where is my son?”
Claire turned.
Eli had been with Lena.
Safe.
Or so they believed.
Celeste laughed.
“You should ask your doctor.”
Roman immediately called Lena on another phone.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a photograph arrived.
Eli.
Tied to a chair.
Alive.
Terrified.
Behind him stood Malcolm.
Roman’s entire body went still.
A message appeared beneath the picture.
Bring Amelia’s drives to Terminal 14. Come alone, or this time there will be no woman jumping into the water after him.
May you like
Claire looked at Roman.
He was already reaching for the keys.
