Chapter 8 - The Bride Who Knew Too Much
My dead father's signature appeared on the bank log at 6:14 that morning.
I stared at it until the letters blurred.
"Forgery," Roman said.
The manager nodded nervously.
"It appears someone presented identification."
"My father would be sixty-eight."
"The gentleman was approximately that age."
I looked at Roman.
"Could he be alive?"
"No."
The certainty hurt.
"You saw him?"
"After the accident."
"His body?"
Roman hesitated.
That hesitation terrified me.
"Roman."
"The car burned."
My stomach dropped.
"So you never saw his face."
"I identified his watch."
"His watch?"
"And dental records later confirmed—"
"Whose dentist?"
He stopped.
We both knew.
Kingsley Medical.
The same network already tied to altered records.
My phone rang.
Claire.
I answered.
"Elena, I need to see you."
"Why?"
"Because Grant doesn't know everything."
"That sentence has ruined enough of my life."
"I have proof."
"Of what?"
"That Charles planned your divorce."
I looked at Grant.
He was speaking with the bank manager across the room.
"Where are you?"
"Your old apartment."
"Why?"
"Because there's something behind the bedroom wall."
I almost laughed.
"What?"
"Grant installed a safe before you moved in."
I had lived there six years.
Never knew.
"How do you know?"
"Charles told me."
"Why would Charles tell you?"
Claire whispered, "Because I was working for him."
The call ended.
We went to the apartment.
Roman objected.
I ignored him.
Claire waited inside.
Her wedding dress was gone.
She wore jeans and Grant's old college sweatshirt.
Adrian stood beside her.
Grant stopped in the doorway.
The brothers stared at each other.
"Not now," I said.
Claire led us upstairs.
Behind a framed photograph in the bedroom was a biometric safe.
Grant looked stunned.
"I didn't install this."
Claire nodded.
"Charles did."
"How did he get into my apartment?"
"He owned the building through a subsidiary."
Of course he did.
Grant placed his thumb against the scanner.
Red.
ACCESS DENIED.
Claire tried hers.
Green.
The safe opened.
Grant looked at her.
"Why you?"
"Because he trusted me."
"Enough to sleep with my brother?"
Claire flinched.
Adrian stepped forward.
"Leave her alone."
I opened the safe.
Inside were three folders.
A gun.
A passport.
And photographs of me.
Hundreds.
Leaving doctors.
Entering Roman's car.
Buying prenatal vitamins.
Attending ultrasounds.
My pregnancy had never been secret.
Charles had known from the beginning.
Then I found photographs of Roman.
And my father.
One photograph showed them together the night Dad died.
A timestamp.
11:42 p.m.
The police report placed the crash at 11:38.
Roman had told me he arrived afterward.
He had lied.
I turned.
"Explain."
Roman saw the photograph.
His face closed.
"You were there before the crash."
"Elena."
"You lied to me."
"Yes."
Grant stepped between us.
"Stay away from her."
Roman ignored him.
"I met your father that night."
"Then what happened?"
"He got into another car."
"Whose?"
Roman looked toward the photograph.
"Margaret's."
Grant's mother.
"Why?"
"She was taking him to the police."
"Did they make it?"
"No."
"Where was the crash?"
"Your father switched vehicles later."
"Why?"
"Because he realized someone was following them."
I felt sick.
"Who?"
Roman said nothing.
Then Claire spoke.
"Charles."
We all turned.
She held one of the folders.
Inside was an old invoice.
Vehicle repair.
Front-end collision.
Dated the morning after my father's death.
Registered to Charles Kingsley.
Grant sank into a chair.
"My father killed hers."
"Maybe," Roman said.
Grant laughed bitterly.
"Now you care about evidence?"
"Always."
Claire opened another folder.
Her face drained.
"What?"
She handed me a document.
It was a contract.
Between Charles Kingsley and Claire Beaumont.
She would marry Grant.
Become pregnant.
Convince him the child was his.
In return, she would receive twenty million dollars.
Grant read it.
Then looked at Claire.
"You signed this."
"Yes."
Adrian stepped away from her.
"Claire."
"I didn't know you then."
"Doesn't matter."
"It became real."
Grant laughed once.
"Apparently everyone in this family is for sale."
I wanted to hate Claire.
But I recognized the look in her eyes.
Shame.
I had worn it myself.
"Why did Charles need a fake heir if Grant could have children?"
Roman answered.
"Control."
A child conceived naturally with me couldn't be controlled.
Claire could.
Or Charles thought she could.
Then I noticed one final folder.
My name.
ELENA HART.
Inside was a document dated eleven years earlier.
Before I married Grant.
A marriage background investigation.
Charles had investigated me before Grant and I ever met.
That made no sense.
Unless our meeting hadn't been accidental.
I flipped the page.
A handwritten instruction appeared.
GRANT MUST MARRY HART'S DAUGHTER.
I looked at Grant.
He looked as shocked as I felt.
May you like
Below the instruction was one more line.
SHE IS THE ONLY PERSON WHO CAN OPEN ARTHUR'S TRUST.
