Chapter 6 - The Marriage That Was Planned Before We Met
I stared at the photograph until the faces blurred.
Ryan looked younger.
His hair was shorter, and the expensive watch I'd bought him for our second anniversary wasn't on his wrist.
Linda stood beside him in a dark green dress, lifting her champagne glass toward someone outside the frame.
They looked happy.
Not the forced happiness people wear for family photographs.
The comfortable happiness of people celebrating something they already knew would succeed.
"Where was this taken?" I asked.
My father studied the screen.
"I don't recognize the room."
I enlarged the photograph.
Behind Linda stood a white marble fireplace.
Above it hung a painting of a storm rolling over Lake Michigan.
Something about the painting seemed familiar.
Then I remembered.
Ryan had once shown me pictures from a luxury private club near the Gold Coast.
He claimed he'd been there for a business dinner years earlier.
The painting was hanging in the background of one of those pictures.
"Dad, I think I know the place."
"Where?"
"The Ashcroft Club."
His expression changed.
"Are you sure?"
"I think so."
He looked at the photograph again.
"That club belonged to a man named Arthur Voss."
The name meant nothing to me.
But the way Dad said it made my stomach tighten.
"Who's Arthur Voss?"
"An attorney."
"For who?"
"People who didn't want their names attached to anything."
My father passed the phone to Officer Mitchell, who had returned to ask additional questions.
She photographed the message and recorded the number.
"Do you recognize the sender?" she asked.
"No."
"Have you received anything similar?"
I shook my head.
Then I remembered the messages Ryan used to delete from my phone.
Sometimes he'd take it while I was asleep.
Other times he'd tell me he was protecting me from scammers.
I had accepted that explanation because I was exhausted.
Because I was frightened.
Because every time I questioned him, an argument followed.
"I think my husband has been controlling my phone," I said.
Officer Mitchell wrote it down.
My father looked at me.
"Do you remember when that started?"
"After we got married."
"What happened?"
"Ryan said we should combine everything. Accounts. Passwords. Phone plans. Insurance. He made it sound romantic."
Dad's jaw tightened.
"Did you give him access to your inheritance?"
I looked away.
My mother had left money in a trust.
My father managed it until I turned twenty-five.
Afterward, I had access to annual distributions and a protected investment portfolio.
Ryan knew about it.
Of course he knew.
We were married.
I had trusted him.
"He helped me with paperwork," I whispered.
"What paperwork?"
"Something about estate planning. He said we needed to update everything before the baby came."
"Did you sign documents?"
"Some."
Dad closed his eyes.
I could hear the effort in his breathing.
"Emily, do you remember what those documents said?"
"Not exactly."
"Did you have your own lawyer?"
"Ryan said his lawyer could handle it."
My father stood.
"Elena needs to see every document."
I nodded.
But something had begun to bother me.
Ryan was cruel.
Linda was manipulative.
Dr. Keller was dangerous.
Yet the photograph suggested they were working with people connected to my father's former enemies.
Why?
My inheritance was substantial, but it wasn't enough to explain an operation involving false medical records, fabricated crimes, and years of preparation.
Unless the money wasn't the point.
"Dad?"
He turned.
"Why would Greco want me?"
My father didn't answer.
"Not your money," I continued. "Me."
He looked toward the doorway.
For a second, I thought he might lie again.
Then he sat down.
"Your mother left something behind."
"What?"
"Records."
"Of what?"
"Transactions. Names. Accounts. Evidence she gathered while trying to bring down Greco's operation."
"Where are they?"
"I don't know."
I stared at him.
"What do you mean, you don't know?"
"Before she died, Sofia told me she had hidden copies somewhere I would never think to look. She said if anything happened to her, I was supposed to protect you. Not the evidence."
"Why?"
"Because she believed somebody inside our family was already compromised."
I felt a chill.
"Inside our family?"
He nodded.
"She never told me who."
I looked at the bracelet in Officer Mitchell's evidence bag.
My mother's bracelet.
Room 317.
A message about my marriage.
And suddenly I remembered something.
On our wedding day, Linda had insisted on helping me dress.
She'd been unusually interested in the jewelry my mother left me.
She'd examined the bracelet.
Asked whether it opened.
Asked whether it had ever been repaired.
At the time, I thought she was being sentimental.
Now I wasn't so sure.
"Dad," I whispered, "Linda wanted my mother's jewelry."
He frowned.
"What?"
"She kept asking about it. On our wedding day."
My father became very still.
Then he reached for his phone.
"Marco, I need you to check something."
He listened briefly.
"Not tonight. Before Sofia died. Find out whether she ever visited the Ashcroft Club."
He ended the call.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because Sofia used to meet sources in private clubs."
I looked toward the evidence bag.
"What if she hid something in the bracelet?"
Dad's eyes moved slowly toward mine.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then his phone rang again.
Marco.
My father answered.
And whatever Marco said made him turn pale.
"Vincent," Marco said, his voice audible through the speaker, "I found the original guest list from the Ashcroft Club."
Dad gripped the phone.
"Who was there?"
"Ryan Bennett. Linda Bennett. Arthur Voss. Dr. Keller."
A pause.
"And someone else."
"Who?"
Marco hesitated.
"Emily."
I stared at my father.
"That's impossible."
Marco continued.
"According to the club records, she was their guest of honor."
My father's eyes widened.
"When?"
"Six months before Ryan supposedly met her."
I shook my head.
"I'd never even heard his name."
Then Marco delivered the final blow.
"Vincent, there's a signed agreement attached to the reservation."
"What agreement?"
"It lists Emily as the prospective beneficiary of a private family arrangement."
My father closed his eyes.
May you like
And Marco whispered:
"The signatures include Ryan Bennett, Linda Bennett, and Salvatore Greco."
