Chapter 4
The transfer had a reference number, a date, and Kelsey’s name. It also had a destination my account summary had hidden in the abbreviated line: MERCER & VALE—CLIENT TRUST.
I opened the archived statement beside it. The money had left my account in one lump, routed to Grant Mercer’s office, then vanished from the records I could see.
Kelsey’s name was still there in the memo field.
I leaned back. The rain had stopped, but drops clung to the windows, turning the city lights into blurred gold. On the counter, the engagement ring caught one sharp glint.
I called my assistant.
“Can you preserve the archived statements from the year Kelsey left? Every version. Don’t let anyone overwrite or remove them.”
A pause. “Is this connected to the canceled announcement?”
“It’s connected to a transfer in my name that I never authorized.”
“I’ll secure copies now. Do you want me to send them to your personal email?”
“Send them to me and keep a separate copy somewhere my family can’t access.”
“I understand.”
When we hung up, I stared at the number beside the transfer. I knew it by heart. Grant had represented my family for as long as I could remember. He’d sat at my father’s funeral and told me which calls I didn’t have to take.
I called him.
He answered on the third ring. “Ethan. I hear the evening has become complicated.”
“I found a transfer from six years ago. It lists Kelsey as the payee and your office as the destination.”
Silence, just long enough to sound deliberate.
“Old financial records can be difficult to interpret,” he said.
“Then interpret this one for me.”
“I’m not in front of the file.”
“You’re the one whose office received the money.”
“Received it on whose behalf?”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
A faint exhale came through the phone. “If you’re reopening private family matters, I’d advise you to think carefully about the consequences. The Ashford partnership involves more than a dinner and a ring.”
The warmth in his voice had disappeared. I looked at the transfer again, at the line that put Kelsey’s name beside Grant’s office.
“Is that advice,” I asked, “or a warning?”
“It’s an attempt to keep you from turning an old misunderstanding into a public crisis.”
“You don’t get to call it a misunderstanding before you explain where the money went.”
“Ethan, some matters were handled for your protection.”
“By you?”
Another pause. “I suggest you speak with your mother.”
“She already had her chance.”
“I can’t help you if you’ve decided not to listen.”
“I’m not asking you to help me. I’m asking for the records.”
“I’ll review what’s appropriate and get back to you.”
“No. You’ll preserve what’s there. My assistant is making copies.”
His tone hardened. “That may be a mistake.”
“Then it’ll be mine.”
I ended the call before he could dress the threat up as concern.
The guest-room door opened. Kelsey stepped into the hall, one hand still on the knob. She wore the same clothes she’d had on at the restaurant, and her eyes went first to the laptop, then to the ring.
“Was that your attorney?”
“Grant Mercer. He says the transfer is old and difficult to interpret.”
Her mouth tightened. “That’s a very polished way to say he doesn’t want you looking.”
“I don’t know what it means yet.”
“You know it didn’t reach me.”
She didn’t raise her voice. She didn’t need to. The words fell between us with the weight of six years.
“I know,” I said.
Kelsey glanced toward the boys’ closed door. “When your mother told me you’d paid me to go, I couldn’t prove otherwise. I had no money from you. I had a letter saying you wanted nothing to do with our baby, and then I was told your family would make sure I regretted staying.”
Her fingers curled around the edge of the door.
“I was twenty-three,” she continued. “I was pregnant, alone, and trying to decide whether I could keep four babies safe in a place where everyone knew your name. Leaving seemed safer than finding out how far your mother could reach.”
The number four changed the air in my chest. I gripped the counter until the cool stone pressed into my palms.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Kelsey looked at me as if she’d heard the words before—not from me, but from people who wanted an apology to finish the conversation.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me for something I didn’t do,” I said. “And I’m not asking you to believe I can fix six years tonight.”
“Good.”
The duffel bags sat near the entry, zipped and upright. Ready to go. I hadn’t noticed them there before. Now I couldn’t stop looking.
I took the spare key card from my pocket and set it on the counter, beside the ring.
“You already have the first card,” I said. “This one’s yours too. No conditions. You don’t owe me an explanation, and it doesn’t mean I get to come and go. If you decide you want to leave, you leave.”
Kelsey studied the card.
“What if I don’t know what I want?”
“Then you don’t have to decide tonight.”
She picked it up. Her thumb rubbed once over the blank white strip.
“I’ll keep the bags packed,” she said.
“I understand.”
“Do you?”
“No,” I admitted. “Not all of it.”
For the first time since she’d stepped into the hall, her expression shifted—not softening, exactly, but giving up the expectation that I would pretend.
She slipped the card into her pocket.
A new call flashed across my phone. Grant again.
I answered. “What?”
“You need to be at the estate by seven,” he said. “Your mother has decided the announcement will proceed.”
The ring gleamed on the counter between us.
May you like
“Without me?”
“With or without you,” Grant said. “Two hundred guests are waiting, and your mother intends to tell them why you’re absent.”
