Chapter 5 - The Bellamy Family Ledger
Vivienne stared at the photograph as if it had slapped her.
“That’s impossible.”
Preston appeared younger.
Maybe thirty.
Marianne looked healthy.
Elegant.
Alive.
They stood outside Bellamy House.
Not casually.
Not coincidentally.
Preston’s arm was around her waist.
Simone looked at Vivienne.
“You said you met Preston three years ago.”
“I did.”
“Did he ever tell you he knew your mother?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately to be fabricated.
Vivienne took the photograph.
Her hands shook.
“My mother never mentioned him.”
Theodore looked sick.
Adrian opened the ledger.
“Eleven years.”
He traced the payment columns.
“Hale Consulting.”
Preston’s former company.
Simone leaned over his shoulder.
Monthly payments.
Large ones.
Beginning eleven years ago.
Ending five years ago.
The year Marianne died.
Then a new set began.
Hale Consolidated.
Adrian said, “He wasn’t after Vivienne.”
Vivienne looked up.
“What?”
“He was after the trust.”
Theodore closed his eyes.
“And he used my daughter to get close.”
Vivienne’s face crumpled.
Simone watched her.
Part of her wanted to say something sharp.
Something earned.
Something that would repay years of humiliation.
She did not.
There was no satisfaction in watching a woman discover her marriage might have been a transaction.
Simone knew too much about being treated as a lesser piece on someone else’s board.
“Sit down,” she said.
Vivienne looked at her.
“What?”
“You’re shaking.”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“It isn’t pity.”
Vivienne gave a broken laugh.
“What is it?”
“Basic decency.”
The words landed harder than cruelty.
Vivienne sat.
Adrian continued reading.
“M. Vale.”
Margaret shook her head.
“I told you, that isn’t me.”
“Could it be Marianne?”
Theodore nodded slowly.
“Her middle name was Valerie.”
Marianne Valerie Bellamy.
M. Vale.
Simone felt cold.
“She used an alias.”
Margaret took the ledger.
“These payments started around the time Elena disappeared.”
Theodore whispered, “Marianne told me Elena died.”
Everyone turned.
“What?”
He looked at Simone.
“After the accident, Elena vanished from the hospital system. I searched. I hired people. Marianne came to me three weeks later and said Elena had died under another name.”
“And you believed her?”
“She brought a death certificate.”
Adrian asked, “Do you still have it?”
“In my safe.”
“Who signed it?”
“I don’t remember.”
Margaret said, “I do.”
They looked at her.
“Dr. Samuel Price.”
Theodore frowned.
“I knew him.”
“He ran Bellamy House.”
Simone stood.
“Where is he now?”
Margaret hesitated.
“Alive.”
Adrian took out his phone.
“Full name?”
“Samuel Everett Price.”
Adrian sent a message.
“To whom?” Simone asked.
“Someone who finds people.”
Five minutes later, his phone buzzed.
He read the response.
“Price lives in Connecticut.”
“How far?”
“Forty minutes.”
Theodore said, “We go.”
His nurse looked horrified.
“You need a hospital.”
“I need the truth.”
They left Bellamy House before midnight.
This time Vivienne rode with Simone and Adrian.
She sat in the back seat wearing her wedding gown beneath a borrowed coat.
For nearly twenty minutes, nobody spoke.
Finally Vivienne said, “I didn’t know.”
Simone looked back.
“About what?”
“Preston.”
“I believe you.”
Vivienne blinked.
“You do?”
“You’re many things. A good liar isn’t one of them.”
Vivienne almost smiled.
Then her face collapsed again.
“I pulled your chair.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted everyone to see you fall.”
“Yes.”
“I thought if I embarrassed you enough, you’d leave.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
Simone looked out the window.
“I’m not ready to forgive you.”
Vivienne nodded.
“I know.”
“But I believe you didn’t know Preston’s whole plan.”
Another nod.
Adrian remained silent.
The road curved through dark trees.
Vivienne whispered, “Mother hated Elena.”
Simone looked back.
“I know.”
“No. I mean truly hated her.”
“Why?”
“Because Grandfather loved Elena.”
Simone frowned.
“Theodore’s father?”
“Yes. Not romantically. He respected her. He said she was the only person in the family who understood what responsibility meant.”
Theodore had once told Simone her grandfather barely knew Elena.
Another lie.
Vivienne continued.
“Mother said Elena stole her father from her.”
Simone understood suddenly.
The trust.
The inheritance.
The resentment.
Different generation.
Same poison.
“And she taught you I was doing the same thing.”
Vivienne looked down.
“Yes.”
Forty minutes later, they reached a small colonial house.
A porch light burned.
Adrian approached first.
He knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Finally a man’s voice called, “Who is it?”
“Adrian Moretti.”
Silence.
Then three locks opened.
Samuel Price was eighty-one.
Thin.
White hair.
Thick glasses.
He looked at Adrian.
Then Simone.
His face drained.
“Elena.”
Simone’s chest tightened.
“I’m her daughter.”
Price gripped the doorframe.
“I know.”
“You knew my mother.”
“Yes.”
“Was she alive after everyone told me she died?”
Price looked behind them.
At Theodore.
His expression hardened.
“You.”
Theodore rolled forward.
“Tell me what happened.”
Price laughed bitterly.
“Now you want to know?”
“I always wanted to know.”
“No. You wanted an answer you could survive.”
Simone stepped between them.
“Please.”
Price looked at her.
Something softened.
He opened the door.
They entered.
His living room contained stacks of medical journals.
Old framed certificates.
One photograph of Bellamy House.
Simone placed the ledger on his coffee table.
Price stared.
“Where did you find that?”
“My father’s wheelchair.”
He looked at Theodore.
“You kept it.”
“I didn’t know it was there.”
Price shook his head.
“Elena put it there.”
“When?”
“The last time she saw you.”
Theodore’s face changed.
“I never saw her after the accident.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No.”
“You were sedated.”
Theodore froze.
Price sat slowly.
“Elena came to the hospital after your heart procedure seventeen years ago.”
Simone frowned.
“That was after her supposed death.”
“Yes.”
Theodore whispered, “Why don’t I remember?”
“You were barely conscious.”
Price looked at Simone.
“She wanted to see whether he knew what Marianne had done.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
Theodore covered his mouth.
Price continued.
“That changed Elena’s plan.”
“What plan?”
“To disappear permanently.”
Simone stared.
“She chose to leave me?”
Price’s face tightened.
“No.”
“She left for a reason that concerned you.”
“What reason?”
Price took off his glasses.
“Because Marianne had threatened your life.”
Simone stopped breathing.
Vivienne whispered, “My mother?”
Price nodded.
“She told Elena that if she returned to New York, Simone would die in an accident before her twenty-second birthday.”
Theodore cursed under his breath.
Price looked at him.
“Elena believed her.”
“Why?”
“Because Marianne had already cut Elena’s brake line.”
Silence.
Simone asked the question she feared most.
“Where did my mother go?”
Price looked at her for a long time.
“She entered federal witness protection.”
Adrian’s expression sharpened.
“What crime was she witnessing?”
Price tapped the ledger.
“Financial laundering. Extortion. Fraud. And something larger involving Hale.”
“Preston?”
“His father first.”
Simone stared at the photograph.
“So Preston continued it.”
“Yes.”
Price stood.
He walked to a cabinet.
From inside, he removed a sealed envelope.
“Elena made me promise not to give this to you until Marianne was dead.”
“She died five years ago.”
“I know.”
“Then why wait?”
Price’s eyes filled.
“Because Elena was still afraid.”
Simone whispered, “Still?”
Price handed her the envelope.
Inside was a letter.
And a phone number.
Simone read the first sentence.
My darling girl, if Samuel gives you this, I am alive.
Her knees nearly gave out.
Vivienne covered her mouth.
Theodore began to cry.
Simone kept reading.
I have watched you from far away for longer than any mother should have to.
I stayed away because men connected to the Hale family were still searching for the records I carried.
I told myself distance kept you safe.
I hope one day you can forgive me for choosing your life over my presence in it.
Simone stopped.
Tears blurred the page.
Adrian moved beside her.
She looked at the phone number.
“Is this current?”
Price nodded.
“It was six months ago.”
Simone took out her phone.
Her thumb hovered over the digits.
Then Adrian’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression hardened.
“What?”
He listened.
Simone watched.
Adrian lowered the phone.
“Preston has been found.”
“Where?”
Adrian looked directly at Vivienne.
“At your penthouse.”
Vivienne stood.
“Why would he go there?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Because someone else is there with him.”
“Who?”
He turned the phone toward them.
A security-camera image filled the screen.
Preston stood inside the apartment.
Beside him was a gray-haired woman.
Simone’s breath stopped.
May you like
She had the same face as the woman in the Bellamy House window.
Her mother.
