Chapter 5
By morning, the ring was still on the counter, and the boys’ duffel bags were still by the door.
Kelsey stood at the kitchen window, watching the city wake below us. One of the boys had left a small plastic dinosaur on the counter beside the ring. I couldn’t tell which one. I only knew I hadn’t moved either.
My phone buzzed. Genevieve Ashford.
Meet me alone. The coffee shop on Harbor Drive. Ten minutes.
Kelsey saw my face change.
“Something happened?”
“Not yet.”
I told her who had texted and where I was going. I didn’t ask her to trust Genevieve, or promise what the meeting would prove. Kelsey nodded once, her gaze flicking toward the bedroom where the boys were still asleep.
“Then find out what you can,” she said. “And don’t bring back another story just because it’s easier to believe.”
The coffee shop was nearly empty, its windows silvered with morning fog. Genevieve sat at a table in the far corner, hands wrapped around a cup she hadn’t touched. She wore no engagement ring. Her mouth was set in a line that made the name of the chapter title seem obvious.
She didn’t smile when I approached.
“I wondered if you’d come,” she said.
“I wondered if you’d tell me the truth.”
“That makes two of us.”
I sat across from her. The cup between us smelled of burnt espresso and rain-damp wool.
Genevieve glanced toward the window, where a black sedan idled at the curb. “My father’s driver. He thinks I’m still at the house.”
“Are you being watched?”
“Not by him, I hope.” She looked back at me. “Your mother has called my father four times since dawn.”
I felt the old reflex—to defend Eleanor, to search for the explanation that would make her actions smaller. I let it pass.
“What did she tell him?”
“That you’d had a personal crisis. That the announcement could still happen if we stood together and gave the guests a calm explanation.” Genevieve’s fingers tightened around the cup. “She said I would understand the importance of not embarrassing the families.”
“Did you?”
“I understood that I was expected to smile while other people decided what my life meant.”
For a moment, the sharpness in her voice sounded familiar. Not because she was like Kelsey, but because I knew the weight of being told a decision had already been made for you.
“Did you know about Kelsey?” I asked. “Or the boys?”
“No. I swear it.” She leaned forward. “I didn’t know there was a woman you’d planned to marry. I didn’t know you had children—or might have them. If I had, I wouldn’t have agreed to any announcement.”
“Yet you knew the engagement was tied to a business deal.”
Her face went still.
“Yes.”
The word landed with more force than any denial could have.
“Our families have been discussing an alliance for months,” she said. “The announcement was meant to make it look natural. A joining of the families, then a joining of the companies. The lawyers had been preparing papers to present that evening.”
“And you were supposed to be the ribbon around the package.”
Her eyes flashed. “I know what I was supposed to be.”
I had come ready to dislike her. It was easier to make her part of the machinery than to imagine she’d been caught in it too.
“Why stay silent?” I asked. “Why not tell me the engagement was a business transaction?”
“Because I trusted my father when he said the business terms were ordinary and separate from us.” She looked down at her untouched coffee. “I knew there was an alliance. I didn’t ask enough questions about what my name and yours were being used to sell.”
“Did you never wonder why the announcement had to happen tonight?”
“I did. I was told the timing had to do with the companies’ calendar, and that the families wanted one clean announcement.” Her chin lifted. “I believed him. That doesn’t make it right. It makes me guilty of not looking harder.”
The honesty didn’t erase the questions. It changed the shape of them.
“What changed?”
“Your mother called to say you were refusing to attend, then asked me to help persuade you. She never mentioned a personal crisis until I asked what she meant.” Genevieve’s mouth tightened. “When I learned you had canceled because you’d found someone from your past, I asked her name. Eleanor said it didn’t matter.”
I felt cold settle along my spine.
“She said Kelsey didn’t matter?”
“She said the children didn’t matter.” Genevieve’s voice lowered. “I told her she was wrong.”
A bus sighed to a stop outside. Its brakes hissed against the damp morning, and for one strange second I could hear only that sound.
“You know about the transfer?” I asked.
“I know Grant Mercer handled some of the family records from that period. I also know there’s a duplicate account archive in the shared records room at the estate. Farrington and Ashford business files were kept together there before the companies moved their offices.”
“Why would Grant’s records be there?”
“Because both families’ counsel used the same archive. Old invoices, correspondence logs, payment copies.” She paused. “If the transfer went through his client trust account, there may be a duplicate ledger entry. A record that doesn’t depend on your mother’s version of events.”
The thought of another record—another trace of money passed in my name—made my jaw tighten.
“Can you get us in?”
“Yes.” She met my eyes. “But if Eleanor finds out I gave you access, she’ll know I chose a side.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m not doing it for you.” Her gaze held steady. “I’m doing it because my name was about to be used to make a lie look respectable.”
I believed her enough to stand. Not enough to stop being careful.
At the estate, the drive curved between clipped hedges and the pale stone walls I’d known since childhood. The house looked untouched by the canceled announcement. A row of staff cars sat beside the service entrance; the long windows reflected a brightening sky.
Genevieve led me past the main hall without speaking. We crossed into the east wing, where the family offices and shared archive occupied a set of rooms older than either company’s latest letterhead. A brass plaque beside the double doors bore both family names.
The doors stood ajar.
Genevieve stopped so abruptly I nearly walked into her.
Inside, two men in dark suits were pulling drawers from a filing cabinet. Another stood over an open archive box, sorting through folders with gloved hands. I recognized the security insignia on their jackets: Eleanor’s team.
One of the men looked up.
Genevieve’s fingers closed around the brass door handle. “They know we’re coming.”
May you like
A guard stepped into the doorway.
Behind him, the file drawers stood open and empty.
