Chapter 4
I spent the next hour trying to disprove Adrian.
I wanted Celeste's involvement to be coincidence.
I wanted at least one part of my life not to have been engineered by someone else.
Dad's analysts worked through the archive.
They built timelines.
Nathan met me nine years earlier at a logistics conference in Boston.
At the time, he told me he had noticed me during a panel discussion.
According to an old email on Charles Ashford's server, Nathan had received a guest list before the conference.
My name was highlighted.
Beside it, Charles had written:
Vale daughter. Interesting.
My stomach turned.
But Charles had already been dead by then.
The notation was from an earlier event list that Nathan later accessed.
It didn't prove Nathan targeted me.
Only that he could have known more than he admitted.
I called Adrian back into the room.
“Did Nathan know who Dad was when he met me?”
Adrian looked uncomfortable.
“I don't know.”
“Don't protect him.”
“I am not.”
“Then answer.”
“I know Dad talked about Elias Vale like an enemy when we were kids.”
Dad's eyes hardened.
Adrian continued.
“But we didn't know details. Nathan found the archives later.”
“When?”
“About four years into your marriage.”
Relief and horror hit together.
Nathan probably hadn't married me as part of a plan.
But somewhere during our marriage, he discovered who my parents really were.
And said nothing.
That felt almost worse.
“He knew,” I whispered.
Dad said, “We need confirmation.”
We got it from Nathan himself.
Federal investigators permitted a monitored interview because Nathan had requested to speak with me through counsel.
I refused to see him alone.
Agent Hale sat nearby.
My attorney, Rebecca Sloan, joined us.
Dad was not allowed inside.
Nathan sat across the table in a detention interview suite.
No suit.
No expensive watch.
His hair uncombed.
A bruise-colored exhaustion beneath his eyes.
He stared at me.
“You look…”
“Don't.”
He nodded.
“I deserve that.”
“Yes.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then:
“Celeste used me.”
I almost laughed.
“You want sympathy?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“She isn't who she said she was.”
“I know.”
His eyes widened.
“How?”
“My family is better at investigating than yours.”
He almost smiled.
Then remembered where we were.
“I didn't know about Germany.”
“Did you know about my mother?”
Nathan froze.
That was enough.
My hands went cold.
“When?”
“Vivian.”
“When did you find out?”
His eyes filled.
“Four years ago.”
Adrian had been right.
“How?”
“Dad's archives.”
“And you never told me.”
“I didn't know how.”
“You learned your father helped destroy my mother's company and decided silence was appropriate?”
“I was ashamed.”
“No. You were afraid.”
He looked down.
I leaned forward.
“Did you marry me knowing?”
“No.”
“Did you know who my father really was?”
“No.”
“Did you learn?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Same time.”
I stared at him.
Four years.
He had known Elias Vale was not a retired accountant.
Had known my mother had been targeted by Charles.
Had known our families shared a buried history.
And every time he mocked Dad's “little accounting career,” he had been performing.
“Why pretend?”
Nathan rubbed his hands together.
“Because if you knew I knew, you'd ask how.”
“And then I'd discover the archive.”
“Yes.”
“What was in it that frightened you?”
He looked toward Agent Hale.
Rebecca said, “Answer only if your attorney has advised you.”
Nathan's lawyer whispered to him.
Nathan continued.
“Dad documented bribery, sanctions evasion, political payments.”
“Did you use his methods?”
Silence.
I already knew.
“Some.”
“Some.”
“I thought business worked differently at that level.”
I laughed softly.
“You mean you thought crimes became strategy when rich men committed them.”
He flinched.
“Maybe.”
“Did Celeste know about the archive?”
“Yes.”
“When did you tell her?”
“I didn't.”
I stared.
“She told me.”
There it was.
“She approached you because of it.”
“I think so.”
“Then why keep her?”
His shame deepened.
“Because by then…”
“You were sleeping with her.”
“Yes.”
“And committing fraud with her.”
“I didn't understand the extent.”
“You signed contracts.”
“She structured them.”
“You signed.”
“Yes.”
The word came out broken.
At least he was finally owning something.
“Did Celeste ever mention Victor Monroe?”
Nathan's eyes lifted sharply.
“No.”
“Her father.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Victor Monroe helped your father destroy my mother's company.”
Nathan's face drained.
“That can't be true.”
“It is.”
He looked genuinely stunned.
I believed him.
Then another realization landed.
Celeste had used both of us.
My mother's daughter.
Charles Ashford's son.
She had walked directly into a marriage created between two families her father once helped tear apart.
Why?
Revenge?
Money?
Access?
Nathan whispered, “What did she want?”
“Your archive.”
His expression changed.
“She asked about it.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That most of it was destroyed.”
“Was it?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where is yours?”
Nathan hesitated.
Agent Hale leaned forward.
“Nathan.”
His lawyer whispered again.
Finally:
“Blackthorn.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“Wine cellar. Behind the north rack.”
Dad's people had searched the obvious rooms.
Not that.
Agent Hale immediately sent a team.
Nathan stared at me.
“Vivian.”
“What?”
“I am sorry.”
I felt nothing.
“I thought if I became powerful enough, none of what happened to Dad would happen to me.”
I almost laughed.
“What happened to him?”
“He spent his life afraid Elias would destroy him.”
I stared.
“Your father committed crimes against my mother.”
“I know.”
“And you inherited his fear instead of his guilt.”
Nathan's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
I stood carefully.
“Then you inherited the wrong thing.”
As I turned away, he called after me.
“Did you ever love me?”
I stopped.
That question enraged me.
I looked back.
“I stayed after you pushed me down stairs because I needed evidence to stop you hurting other people.”
His face crumpled.
“That wasn't my question.”
“Yes.”
My voice softened despite myself.
“I loved you.”
He started crying.
“And that's why what you did matters.”
I left.
Two hours later, Agent Hale called.
They found Nathan's section of Charles's archive.
But something was wrong.
The hidden vault had been opened recently.
Most files remained.
One compartment was empty.
Nathan insisted it should contain an original ledger Charles called “the black book.”
A handwritten record of bribes and offshore beneficiaries across three decades.
If Celeste had taken it, she possessed evidence capable of destroying executives, politicians, bankers, and criminals around the world.
Then Dad's security chief entered the room.
“Sir.”
My father looked up.
“We have a breach.”
“What kind?”
“Celeste Monroe is gone.”
I stared.
“She was in federal custody.”
“She was being transferred.”
“What happened?”
“A vehicle collision.”
Dad's expression became lethal.
“And?”
“Two officers injured. One unconscious.”
My mouth went dry.
“Celeste escaped?”
The security chief nodded.
Then placed a photograph on the table.
Security footage from a highway camera.
Celeste entering a black SUV.
Behind the wheel sat a man I recognized from childhood photographs.
A man officially declared dead six years earlier.
May you like
Victor Monroe.
Her father.
