Chapter 3 - The Woman in Burgundy
Cordelia did not go alone.
She also did not go with Dante.
That argument lasted nine minutes.
Roman won it without raising his voice.
“Whoever sent the message expects you to react emotionally,” he told Cordelia. “So don't.”
Dante glared at him.
“She doesn't need your advice.”
Cordelia buttoned her coat.
“She doesn't need either of you speaking for her.”
Both men stopped.
“I'm going,” she continued. “But we do it my way.”
Her way involved a second car, an unmarked security team at a distance, and no one entering until Cordelia gave the signal.
Dante hated every part of it.
Roman agreed.
That irritated Dante more.
The house stood beyond the city near an old vineyard.
Cordelia had never been there.
Knowing Dante had made memories inside it with Elena caused a dull pressure beneath her ribs.
She refused to let that pressure control her.
At the gate, she got out.
Dante reached for the door.
“No.”
“Cordelia—”
“You stay.”
“Absolutely not.”
She leaned down toward the window.
“If you follow me before I signal, I leave this property and you can explain to my father's kidnappers why you couldn't obey one instruction.”
Roman, in the second car, almost smiled.
Dante noticed.
“Enjoying this?”
“No,” Roman said. “But she is better at giving orders than you are.”
Cordelia walked away before the argument continued.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside, lights burned softly.
“Elena?”
No answer.
Cordelia entered the living room.
A wineglass sat on a table.
A woman's burgundy shawl lay across a chair.
She saw photographs.
Dante and Elena in Rome.
Dante and Elena beside a lake.
Dante asleep on a sofa.
Cordelia's throat tightened.
Four years reduced to frames.
Then a voice came from behind her.
“You weren't supposed to bring them.”
Cordelia turned.
Elena Vasquez stood near the staircase.
She wore black now.
No burgundy dress.
No confident hand curled around Dante's arm.
Her face looked exhausted.
“Where is my father?”
“I don't have him.”
“You sent the message.”
“No.”
“The lipstick?”
“Mine.”
Cordelia's eyes narrowed.
Elena lifted both hands.
“Someone took it from my purse tonight.”
“Convenient.”
“I know.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“You shouldn't.”
At least that was honest.
Elena walked slowly toward a desk.
“Don't.”
She stopped.
“My phone is there.”
Cordelia approached it herself.
A message was open.
A photograph of Henry tied to a chair.
Cordelia's stomach dropped.
The message beneath it read:
BRING CORDELIA OR WE RELEASE EVERYTHING.
“What is everything?” Cordelia asked.
Elena's eyes filled with fear.
“The ledger.”
“You have it?”
“No.”
“My father did.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
Elena nodded.
Cordelia studied her.
“Did you love my husband?”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
The answer hurt.
Cordelia preferred it to lies.
“Does he love you?”
“I thought he did.”
“That's not an answer.”
“No.”
Cordelia's composure slipped for half a second.
Elena noticed.
“I hated you,” Elena said.
Cordelia laughed bitterly.
“You had an interesting way of showing it.”
“I hated you before I met you.”
“Better.”
“He talked about you constantly.”
Cordelia stared.
Elena's mouth twisted.
“He didn't realize he did it. Your laugh. Your work. Something you said at dinner. How you argued with a board member. How you refused to let a designer tell you what you could wear.”
“Stop.”
“I need you to understand.”
“No, you need absolution.”
Elena flinched.
“You don't get it from me.”
“I know.”
Cordelia looked around the room.
“Then tell me about the ledger.”
Elena took a breath.
“My father handled financial operations for Moretti businesses years ago. He discovered somebody was using Ashford shipping routes to move money and weapons without authorization.”
“Weapons?”
“Yes.”
“Whose?”
“I don't know.”
“Try again.”
“I genuinely don't know.”
Cordelia believed her fear.
“The ledger contains names,” Elena continued. “Politicians. executives. port officials. Men connected to both families.”
“And CA-39?”
Elena looked at her.
“That isn't an account.”
“What is it?”
“A beneficiary code.”
Cordelia felt cold.
“Beneficiary of what?”
Before Elena could answer, the front door opened.
Dante entered.
Cordelia spun.
“I told you to wait.”
“Elena's security alarm changed.”
Elena looked toward the panel.
“I didn't change it.”
Roman appeared behind Dante.
“Neither did we.”
A sound came from upstairs.
Everyone froze.
Dante drew a gun.
Roman did the same.
Cordelia hated how naturally they moved.
Elena whispered, “There's nobody else here.”
Another sound.
A floorboard.
Dante motioned for Cordelia to remain behind him.
She didn't.
They climbed.
At the end of the hallway, one door stood partly open.
Dante pushed it.
Empty bedroom.
Window open.
Curtains moving.
On the bed lay Henry's watch.
Cordelia rushed forward.
“Dad.”
Roman examined the window.
“Someone was here minutes ago.”
Dante picked up the watch.
A folded paper was beneath it.
Cordelia opened it.
A list of dates.
Seven dates.
All corresponded to major moments in her relationship with Dante.
Their first dinner.
Their first trip.
The night he met Henry formally.
Their engagement.
Their wedding.
Beside every date was the same handwritten initial.
E.
Cordelia looked at Elena.
“What is this?”
Elena shook her head.
“I've never seen it.”
Dante's face had gone rigid.
Roman noticed.
“You have.”
Dante didn't answer.
Cordelia stepped toward him.
“What?”
Dante took the paper.
“E isn't Elena.”
“Who is it?”
He looked at Roman.
Roman's expression changed too.
Cordelia's anger surged.
“Somebody say the name.”
Roman did.
“Edward Ashford.”
Cordelia stared.
“My uncle?”
Henry's younger brother had died twelve years earlier.
Car accident.
Closed casket.
Cordelia had attended the funeral.
“That is impossible.”
Dante handed her the paper.
“I received letters with that initial for years.”
“And you never told me?”
“I thought they came from Elena's father.”
Roman shook his head.
“So did I.”
Cordelia looked at the dates.
Someone had been monitoring her relationship.
Before the proposal.
Before the marriage agreement activated.
Perhaps before Dante knew she mattered.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Cordelia?”
Her father's voice.
“Dad?”
“Listen to me.”
“Where are you?”
“No time.”
She heard machinery behind him.
Metal.
Water.
“Who has you?”
Henry breathed hard.
“Edward.”
Cordelia's knees weakened.
“No.”
“He didn't die.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Dante stepped closer to the phone.
Henry continued.
“I helped him disappear.”
“Why?”
“He was stealing from the company. Your grandfather discovered it. Edward threatened us. I thought sending him away would protect you.”
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
A voice sounded in the background.
Henry rushed his words.
“Cordelia, CA-39 is not money.”
“What is it?”
“You.”
She stopped breathing.
“You were named controlling beneficiary when you turned thirty-nine. The marriage wasn't supposed to give Dante your shares. It was supposed to protect them from Edward.”
Cordelia looked at Dante.
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of what?”
A crash came through the phone.
Henry gasped.
“Dad!”
“Cordelia, don't trust the transfer documents.”
“What transfer documents?”
“They changed them.”
“Who?”
The line crackled.
Henry's voice returned weaker.
“Someone inside Dante's family.”
Then the call died.
Dante stared at the phone.
Roman looked toward him.
“Inside your family.”
Dante's expression darkened.
“There are only three people with access to those documents.”
“Who?”
“My attorney. My uncle Salvatore.”
He stopped.
Cordelia waited.
“And?”
Dante looked directly at her.
“My mother.”
A car engine roared outside.
Roman rushed to the window.
“Someone's leaving.”
Dante ran downstairs.
Cordelia followed.
A black SUV tore through the gate.
Roman's men pursued.
Elena stood in the doorway.
Her phone suddenly chimed.
She looked down.
All color left her face.
“What?” Cordelia demanded.
Elena handed her the phone.
A video had arrived.
Henry sat tied beneath a hanging industrial light.
Behind him stood a man whose face Cordelia remembered from childhood photographs.
Older now.
Scarred.
But unmistakable.
Edward Ashford.
Her dead uncle leaned toward the camera.
“Hello, niece.”
Cordelia's blood went cold.
Edward smiled.
Then another person stepped into frame.
Dante made a sound behind her.
Not anger.
Shock.
Cordelia turned toward him.
“You know that person?”
Dante stared at the screen.
“Yes.”
“Who is it?”
Before he could answer, the figure removed her hood.
May you like
Dante whispered one word.
“Mother.”
