Chapter 9 - The Name Margaret Feared| Margaret chose a small restaurant near the waterfront, where the tables were far apart and the windows overlooked a row of fishing boats.
She arrived twenty minutes late, carrying a sealed envelope.
“I shouldn't have contacted you,” she said.
“Then why did you?”
“Because I found something in my old files.”
She opened the envelope and removed a photocopy of a contract between Harrow Security and a private client. The client's name had been obscured in the copy, but the signature was visible.
Isabella Romano.
Adrian's cousin.
I read the page again.
“Why would Isabella hire security before my mother's death?”
“I don't know. But the contract was issued through a company she controlled. Harrow was instructed to monitor someone connected to the Bellweather investigation.”
“My mother.”
Margaret nodded.
“The dates match.”
“Does this prove Isabella caused the accident?”
“No. It proves she paid for surveillance. That's all.”
I appreciated her honesty, though it left me with another terrible uncertainty.
“Why would she do it?”
“Your mother believed Isabella was moving money through the trust. But she never had enough evidence to prove it.”
I thought of the dinner table, the way Isabella had smiled while telling me to remember my place. I had mistaken her cruelty for ordinary family arrogance.
Perhaps it had been something else.
Margaret leaned closer.
“There's a reason Victor wants that ledger. He isn't only protecting himself. He is protecting someone in the Romano family.”
“Isabella?”
“Possibly. But your mother suspected there was another person involved.”
“Who?”
Margaret's gaze dropped to the envelope.
“She wrote a name on a separate page. I never saw it. Daniel said she planned to give it to Dominic Romano before he died.”
“Why would she trust him?”
“Because she thought he was going to confess.”
I could barely speak.
“Dominic Romano was involved in the fraud.”
“Yes.”
“But she believed he might confess?”
“People sometimes become frightened of the people they've helped. Your mother thought Dominic wanted out.”
I imagined Adrian as a young man, unaware that his father had built part of their fortune on stolen money. I wondered whether the truth had been hidden from him or whether he had simply refused to look.
Margaret slid the contract back into the envelope.
“Give this to Rachel. Don't confront Isabella yourself.”
“I won't.”
She studied my face.
“Your mother would have been proud of you.”
The words nearly undid me.
For years, I had wanted my mother to see the woman I had become. I had wanted her to tell me that surviving difficult things did not mean I had failed to be happy.
Now a stranger was giving me the only comfort I could not ask my mother for.
I reached across the table and squeezed Margaret's hand.
“Thank you.”
She smiled sadly.
“Don't thank me yet.”
A shadow moved across the window.
Margaret turned.
A man stood on the sidewalk, pretending to look at his phone.
Her expression changed immediately.
“We need to leave.”
We paid and exited through the rear door. Margaret took one route, and I took another, following Rachel's instructions to avoid going directly home.
I reached my apartment safely.
At midnight, a message arrived from Adrian.
Isabella has asked for a family meeting tomorrow. She knows you're investigating.
I typed a response.
Then she can explain herself to a lawyer.
His reply came almost immediately.
She won't talk to a lawyer. She wants to speak to you.
I set the phone down.
Then it rang.
Isabella's name appeared on the screen.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
Instead, I answered.
“Sophia,” she said, her voice soft and intimate, “I think we've misunderstood one another.”
“I don't think so.”
“You have something that belongs to my family.”
“I have documents that may explain what happened to my mother.”
A long silence followed.
Then Isabella said, “Your mother wasn't the innocent woman you believe she was.”
I closed my eyes.
“That's what everyone keeps telling me.”
“Because it's true.”
“What did she do?”
Isabella's voice dropped to a whisper.
“She tried to blackmail my uncle. And when he refused, she threatened to expose the truth about Adrian's birth.”
I stood so quickly that my chair fell backward.
“What are you talking about?”
“Ask your husband who his real father was.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, I could hear nothing but the blood rushing in my ears.
Then a new message appeared.
It contained a photograph of a birth certificate.
May you like
Adrian Romano's name was printed at the top.
The father's name had been blacked out.
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