Chapter 5 - The Fiancée Who Knew Too Much
Vivienne Hale did not ask for Ronan when she was arrested.
She asked for Ivy.
The request arrived just before midnight.
Ronan refused immediately.
“No.”
Ivy sat across from him in the Blackwood library.
“You don’t get to decide.”
“She tried to beat you with a riding crop.”
“She also may be getting framed for murder.”
“That does not make her pleasant company.”
“I’m not looking for pleasant.”
Ronan stared at her.
Ivy stared back.
Marcus stood near the fireplace pretending he was not entertained.
Finally Ronan said, “I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“She asked for me.”
“She can survive my presence.”
“You are impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
An hour later, Ivy entered the private interview room at the county detention center.
Vivienne sat behind a metal table.
No diamonds.
No champagne gown.
No immaculate makeup.
She wore gray detention clothes, her blonde hair pulled into a rough knot.
For the first time, she looked ordinary.
When Ivy entered, Vivienne laughed bitterly.
“Of course he came too.”
Ronan remained outside the glass wall with Marcus.
Ivy sat.
“You wanted to see me.”
Vivienne studied her shoulder.
“Does it hurt?”
Ivy almost laughed.
“That’s your opening question?”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“You could try sorry.”
Vivienne looked down.
Silence.
Then, quietly, “I am.”
Ivy did not answer.
Vivienne looked up.
“I hated you before the soup spilled.”
“I know.”
That surprised her.
“You do?”
“We found my mother’s records.”
Vivienne’s face changed.
“Then you found the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“And Ronan knows?”
“Yes.”
Vivienne leaned back.
“Then we’re all dead.”
Ivy remained calm.
“Explain.”
Vivienne looked toward the mirror.
“My father called me yesterday.”
“From Switzerland?”
“He isn’t in Switzerland.”
Ivy frowned.
“We saw him.”
“You saw a background.”
Vivienne gave a humorless smile.
“My father owns studios. Fake offices. Safe houses.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Do you believe he killed Elena?”
Vivienne looked away.
“I believed that for years.”
“And now?”
“I think Victor ordered it.”
“He did.”
Vivienne went still.
“You have proof?”
“Yes.”
Something unexpected crossed her face.
Relief.
Ivy noticed.
“You wanted it to be Victor.”
“I wanted it not to be my father.”
“That doesn’t make your father innocent.”
“No.”
Vivienne rubbed her wrists.
“My father moved money for Victor. Judges. Inspectors. Contractors. They controlled everything.”
“Why continue after Victor died?”
Vivienne closed her eyes.
“Because systems don’t disappear when one man dies.”
“You continued it.”
Vivienne looked at Ivy.
“Yes.”
The confession was so direct that Ivy almost missed its weight.
“Why?”
“At first because my father told me to.”
“And later?”
Vivienne laughed softly.
“Because power is addictive.”
She looked around the concrete room.
“You enter places and everyone smiles. Everyone agrees. Everyone forgives. You begin thinking that means you’re right.”
Ivy remembered the ballroom.
“How long did you know who my mother was?”
“Two years.”
“What?”
“When Ronan hired a new household management company, I reviewed employee files.”
“You saw my name.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you fire me?”
Vivienne’s expression darkened.
“Because I wanted to know whether you had anything.”
“So you watched me.”
“For months.”
Ivy’s stomach turned.
“The soup.”
“An accident.”
“But you used it.”
Vivienne looked ashamed.
“I thought if I frightened you badly enough, you might reveal whether you knew.”
“You hit me because you wanted information.”
“Yes.”
Behind the glass, Ronan’s hands clenched.
Ivy kept her voice steady.
“And Emily?”
“She had nothing to do with it.”
“You threatened her job.”
“I know.”
Ivy leaned forward.
“That girl’s mother is sick.”
Vivienne looked away.
“You didn’t even know that, did you?”
“No.”
“Because people were just pieces.”
Vivienne swallowed.
“Yes.”
For the first time, Ivy believed she understood something.
Not forgiveness.
Understanding.
Cruelty often required distance.
Vivienne had spent her whole life distant from consequences.
“Who framed you?”
“I don’t know.”
“The weapon?”
“Never seen it.”
“Who had access to your hotel suite?”
“My assistant. Security. My father’s people.”
“Your father?”
Vivienne nodded slowly.
Ivy stared.
“You think he did this to you.”
“I think he’s cleaning the board.”
The words sounded chilling.
“What board?”
“All of us.”
Vivienne leaned forward.
“Ronan dismantled Victor’s empire, but he never knew how much of it my father rebuilt. The ledger proves old crimes. The missing page proves murder.”
“And?”
“And there’s another file.”
Ivy felt cold.
“What file?”
“Project Glass.”
Behind the mirror, Ronan suddenly stepped closer.
Vivienne continued.
“It contains every current payment. Every compromised official. Every company. Everything.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who does?”
“My father.”
“Then why does he need us?”
“He doesn’t.”
Vivienne’s voice dropped.
“He needs us gone.”
The lights flickered.
Vivienne looked toward the ceiling.
Ivy felt immediate dread.
A second later, alarms sounded.
Ronan entered.
“We’re leaving.”
A guard opened the door.
Smoke appeared beneath the hallway entrance.
Ivy stared.
“Again?”
Marcus drew his weapon.
“Electrical fire in the west wing.”
Vivienne laughed nervously.
“That’s not an electrical fire.”
Then the gunshots began.
Not near them.
Two corridors away.
Guards shouted.
Ronan grabbed Ivy’s hand.
“Stay with me.”
Vivienne remained seated.
Ivy turned.
“Come on.”
Vivienne stared at her.
“What?”
“Move!”
“You’re helping me?”
“I’m not leaving someone in a burning building.”
Vivienne looked stunned.
Ronan swore.
“Ivy.”
“What?”
“You are exhausting.”
“Later.”
They ran.
Marcus guided them through a service corridor.
Smoke thickened.
A masked man appeared near the stairwell.
Marcus tackled him.
Ronan pushed Ivy and Vivienne through another door.
They reached the vehicle bay.
A black SUV waited.
The driver opened the door.
Ronan stopped.
Something was wrong.
“Back.”
The vehicle exploded.
Heat slammed through the corridor.
Ivy screamed as Ronan threw himself over her.
Glass shattered.
Sprinklers erupted.
Vivienne crawled behind a concrete barrier.
Marcus appeared with blood on his forehead.
“We have another exit.”
They reached it seconds before the entire vehicle bay filled with smoke.
Outside, emergency crews converged.
Vivienne stood barefoot on wet pavement, staring at the flames.
Her voice shook.
“That was meant for me.”
Ronan looked at her.
“Maybe all of us.”
Marcus received a call.
He listened.
Then turned toward them.
“We found the attacker.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Who does he work for?”
Marcus hesitated.
“He had credentials from Hale Global Security.”
Vivienne closed her eyes.
Her father.
The last illusion disappeared.
Ivy watched her.
Vivienne began crying.
Not elegantly.
Not like the interview.
She folded inward, arms around herself, as if every certainty she had ever depended upon had collapsed simultaneously.
Ivy did not comfort her.
Some pain needed to be felt.
Ronan placed his coat around Ivy’s shoulders.
Again.
She looked at him.
“You have a habit.”
“You have a habit of needing one.”
Despite everything, she smiled.
Then Marcus approached.
“The attacker talked.”
Ronan’s expression hardened.
“Where’s Hale?”
“Blackwood Manor.”
Everyone froze.
“What?”
Marcus held up his phone.
“He entered twenty minutes ago using old executive credentials.”
Ronan’s face went cold.
“Why?”
Marcus looked at Ivy.
“He’s searching the house.”
Ivy knew immediately.
“Project Glass.”
Ronan nodded.
Vivienne wiped her face.
“There’s only one place he would look.”
Ronan turned.
“Where?”
Vivienne stared toward the city.
“Your father’s private chapel.”
Blackwood Manor had been built around an old stone chapel dating to the nineteenth century.
Victor had used it as a private office.
Ronan had sealed it after his death.
Apparently Andrew Hale remembered.
They returned under police escort.
The chapel door stood open.
Inside, old wooden pews faced stained glass.
At the altar, one floor panel had been removed.
Empty.
Ronan looked at Vivienne.
“What was there?”
“My father once told me Victor kept insurance beneath the saints.”
Marcus examined the cavity.
“Something was removed recently.”
Ivy noticed a piece of paper wedged between stones.
She pulled it free.
One handwritten line.
YOU ARE STILL TOO LATE.
Ronan swore.
Vivienne looked toward the stained glass.
“My father has Project Glass.”
“No,” Ivy said.
Everyone looked at her.
She pointed to the dust.
“The box was taken a long time ago.”
Ronan crouched.
She was right.
The dust pattern around the cavity was old.
Andrew had come searching tonight.
And failed.
“He doesn’t have it,” Ivy said.
Vivienne stared.
“Then who does?”
Ivy thought about Sarah.
Elena.
Victor.
The silver watch.
People hiding things where no one expected.
Then she remembered the ballroom.
The chandeliers.
The final note of the orchestra.
A memory surfaced.
Her mother once singing while cleaning.
A strange phrase Sarah repeated whenever she misplaced something.
Look where the music stops.
Ivy whispered it.
Ronan frowned.
“What?”
“My mother used to say something.”
She looked toward the ballroom.
“Look where the music stops.”
They entered the ballroom.
Empty now.
The place where everything had begun.
Ivy walked toward the orchestra platform.
She knelt where the conductor had stood.
A brass plate marked the original mansion construction date.
Ronan helped remove it.
Behind it was a narrow compartment.
Inside sat a black flash drive.
Vivienne covered her mouth.
Marcus plugged it into a secure laptop.
Files appeared.
Hundreds.
Project Glass.
Ronan looked at Ivy.
“How did your mother know?”
Ivy stared at the screen.
“She must have moved it before she left.”
The final file was a video.
Sarah Lancaster appeared.
Younger.
Terrified.
But determined.
Ivy stopped breathing.
Her mother looked directly into the camera.
“If my daughter ever sees this, I’m sorry.”
Ivy’s eyes filled.
Sarah continued.
“I wanted you far away from all of this.”
She explained everything.
Elena.
Victor.
Andrew.
The bribery network.
Then came the final revelation.
“Andrew Hale did not kill Elena.”
Vivienne gasped.
Sarah looked exhausted on-screen.
“But he helped Victor cover it up. Years later, when Victor died, Andrew restarted the network for himself.”
Ronan stared.
Sarah continued.
“And if Andrew ever discovers this file exists, he will destroy anyone necessary to protect it.”
The video ended.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
Then Marcus’s phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Sir.”
Ronan looked at him.
“What?”
“Andrew Hale just kidnapped Emily Carter.”
Ivy felt the room tilt.
A message appeared on Marcus’s screen.
One location.
One demand.
May you like
BRING PROJECT GLASS.
COME ALONE.
