Chapter 2 - The Photograph in the Locked Drawer
The handle moved again.
Christa stepped back.
Dion opened the door before whoever stood outside could do it.
A gray-haired man in a black dinner jacket waited in the corridor.
He looked seventy.
Maybe older.
He carried no weapon.
No briefcase.
Only a small silver key.
"Samuel Vale," Dion said.
Christa heard recognition in his voice.
Not relief.
"You're supposed to be dead."
The old man smiled faintly.
"So is Arthur Flores."
Christa forgot how to breathe.
"Where is my father?"
Samuel looked past Dion.
His eyes settled on her.
For several seconds, the old man's face changed.
Not shock.
Grief.
"You have Elena's eyes."
Christa stepped forward.
"My mother's name is Elena."
"I know."
"Who are you?"
Samuel looked toward the ballroom.
"We shouldn't discuss this here."
Dion didn't move.
"You disappeared seventeen years ago."
"Because your father told me to."
"My father died nine years ago."
"I know."
"Then why return tonight?"
Samuel raised the silver key.
"Because somebody opened Arthur's file."
Dion's expression hardened.
Christa looked between them.
"Can somebody please start speaking in complete sentences?"
Samuel almost smiled.
"You sound like him too."
"My father?"
"Arthur had very little patience for dramatic men."
Christa glanced pointedly at Dion.
"Apparently I inherited something."
Dion ignored that.
"Where does the key lead?"
Samuel's amusement vanished.
"To the original ledger."
Dion went still.
Christa remembered the number.
"Fifteen million?"
Samuel nodded.
"That money was never stolen."
"I knew it," Christa whispered.
"Your father discovered something much worse."
"What?"
Samuel looked at Dion.
"A hidden account."
Dion's brow furrowed.
"My father's?"
"No."
"Whose?"
Samuel's gaze moved toward the ballroom.
"Someone attending this gala tonight."
Christa's stomach tightened.
Samuel continued.
"Arthur discovered that somebody inside Henderson Holdings had been moving money through charitable foundations. He copied the records before they could be destroyed."
"And then he disappeared," Christa said.
"Yes."
"Was he killed?"
Samuel hesitated.
Christa's voice rose.
"Was my father killed?"
"I don't know."
"That's not good enough."
"It's the truth."
Samuel handed her the key.
Christa didn't take it.
"Why me?"
"Because Arthur told me that if anything happened to him, nobody from Henderson was allowed to have it."
Dion's jaw tightened.
Samuel looked at Christa.
"Only you."
She finally took the key.
It was colder than she expected.
A number was engraved into it.
"What does that mean?"
"Union Station."
Christa looked up.
"Locker 314."
Dion shook his head.
"That terminal was renovated fifteen years ago."
"Not that locker."
Samuel reached into his jacket.
Dion immediately tensed.
Samuel slowly removed an envelope.
He gave it to Christa.
Her name was written across the front.
CHRISTA.
She recognized the handwriting from birthday cards she had kept in an old shoebox.
Her father's handwriting.
Her knees weakened.
"Where did you get this?"
"Arthur gave it to me twenty years ago."
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
"He made me promise to wait."
"For what?"
"Until someone opened the Flores file."
Christa looked at Dion.
He had opened it.
Three years ago.
"Why wait another three years?"
Samuel's eyes darkened.
"Because I needed to know whether Dion was like his father."
Silence.
Dion didn't defend himself.
Christa tore open the envelope.
Inside was one sheet.
My Chrissy,
If you're reading this, then the lie lasted longer than I hoped.
I did not leave because of you.
I did not leave because of your mother.
And I did not steal fifteen million dollars.
I found something I wasn't supposed to find.
I made the mistake of trusting someone powerful.
If Henderson's son ever finds you, do not judge him for his father's mistakes.
But don't trust him simply because he says the right things either.
Make him earn it.
Christa stopped.
She glanced at Dion.
He looked almost irritated.
"Your father is remarkably inconvenient."
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped her.
Then she kept reading.
The truth is in locker 314.
But the ledger is only half the truth.
The other half is a name.
And that name is closer to you than you think.
Christa frowned.
The final line was different.
Written shakily.
If your mother ever tells you I abandoned you, forgive her.
She was protecting you.
Christa read it twice.
Then a third time.
"My mother knew."
Samuel said nothing.
Christa looked up.
"My mother knew."
"Some of it."
"She lied to me for twenty years."
"To keep you alive."
The words silenced the room.
Dion stepped closer.
"Samuel."
Samuel nodded.
"Arthur believed the person behind the accounts would eventually come after his family if they knew Elena or Christa had information."
Christa folded the letter.
"My mother let me believe my father didn't love me."
"Because heartbreak was safer than curiosity."
Christa stared at the page.
For twenty years, she had carried the same private wound.
He left because we weren't enough.
Because I wasn't enough.
It had shaped relationships.
Friendships.
Even the way she looked at herself.
And now one sheet of paper had cracked that story open.
Dion spoke quietly.
"I'll take you home."
Christa looked at him.
"No."
"Christa—"
"I'm going to my mother."
"Then I'm coming."
"No."
"This isn't negotiable."
Her eyes flashed.
"Everything involving my life is negotiable now."
Dion stopped.
Good.
Christa put the letter into her purse.
"I've had enough men deciding what's best for me."
Samuel looked almost approving.
Dion looked considerably less so.
Christa walked past him.
He didn't stop her.
But when she reached the corridor, he followed.
She turned.
"I said no."
"I'm walking to the elevator."
"Why?"
"Because this is my building."
She glared.
He gestured innocently.
"Property law."
Against her will, she nearly smiled.
She hated that too.
They reached the elevator.
Dion pressed the button.
"Christa."
"What?"
"I owe you an apology."
"For which part?"
"Several."
"That's promising."
"I shouldn't have investigated you without telling you."
"No."
"I shouldn't have waited three years."
"No."
"And I shouldn't have approached you tonight without explaining the connection to Arthur first."
"No."
The elevator arrived.
Christa stepped inside.
Dion remained outside.
That surprised her.
He wasn't following.
"Why aren't you getting in?"
"You asked me not to."
The doors began closing.
For one second, they simply looked at each other.
Then Dion said, "But don't go to Union Station alone."
Christa almost rolled her eyes.
Until she saw his face.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"The photograph beneath Arthur's letter."
"What photograph?"
Dion reached between the closing doors.
The elevator reopened.
He handed her an image from the folder.
Christa looked down.
Her father stood beside three men.
One was Dion's father.
One was Samuel.
The last was younger, but recognizable.
Christa had seen him tonight.
At the gala.
Smiling.
Shaking hands.
Sitting less than thirty feet from her all evening.
"Who is he?" Christa whispered.
Dion's voice became cold.
"Vincent Moretti."
Christa looked up.
"The chairman of my event agency?"
Dion nodded.
Her blood chilled.
Vincent wasn't merely her employer.
He was the man who had hired her eight years ago.
Promoted her.
Mentored her.
Helped her build her career.
He knew her mother.
He knew where Christa lived.
He knew everything.
The elevator doors started closing again.
Then Christa's phone vibrated.
A text.
Unknown number.
She opened it.
There were only six words.
DON'T GO TO LOCKER 314 ALONE.
Below them appeared another message.
I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FATHER.
And then a third.
TURN AROUND.
May you like
Christa slowly raised her eyes toward the mirrored elevator wall.
Someone was standing behind her.
