Chapter 3 - Claire’s Letter
Roman read Claire’s letter three times.
The words did not change.
Roman,
If Sophie has found you, then Helena failed.
And if Helena failed, you need to know why I begged her to make our daughter believe you were dead.
I know what you will think when you read this.
You will believe your mother stole our child.
You will believe I helped her.
You will hate us both.
Maybe you should.
But eight years ago I discovered something that made me more afraid of Sophie being near you than of losing you forever.
It began with your father.
Ask Helena what happened the night he died.
Ask her who called him at 1:17 A.M.
Ask her what he found inside the east-wing safe.
Do not trust the police report.
Do not trust the hospital records.
Most of all, do not trust anyone whose name appears beside the number 417.
I am sorry.
I loved you.
I still do.
Claire.
Roman lowered the paper.
Helena watched him from across the room.
“Is this real?”
“Yes.”
“You expect me to believe Claire wanted me to think Sophie was dead?”
“She did.”
“Why?”
“Because she found evidence that someone was watching Sophie.”
“Who?”
“We didn’t know.”
Roman slammed the letter onto the table.
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the truth.”
“You let me bury my daughter.”
“I kept her alive.”
“You destroyed her childhood.”
“I kept her alive.”
“You told her I was dead.”
“I kept both of you alive.”
Roman leaned across the table.
“Stop saying that.”
Helena did not flinch.
“Then listen.”
She pointed to the letter.
“Your father did not die from a heart attack.”
Roman froze.
Arthur Vale had collapsed in his office nine years earlier.
Roman had found him beside his desk.
The medical examiner ruled cardiac arrest.
His father had been sixty-two.
Healthy.
Powerful.
Terrifying when necessary.
Roman remembered Helena standing outside the office while paramedics worked.
She had never cried.
Not then.
Not at the funeral.
“What happened?”
Helena looked toward the closed door.
“Arthur had discovered money missing from the Vale Family Trust.”
“How much?”
“At the time?”
“Yes.”
“Thirty-two million.”
Roman stared.
He had chaired Vale Holdings for years.
He had never heard about missing trust funds.
“Who took it?”
“We didn’t know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because anyone we investigated disappeared.”
Roman went still.
Helena continued.
“An accountant named Frederick Moss found the first discrepancy.”
“What happened to him?”
“Car accident.”
“Another accountant?”
“House fire.”
“An investigator your father hired?”
Helena paused.
“Suicide.”
Roman’s jaw tightened.
“You believe those were murders.”
“I know they were.”
“Proof?”
“Arthur had it.”
“In the east-wing safe.”
“Yes.”
“What was inside?”
“I never saw it.”
“Claire did?”
“I think so.”
Roman turned away.
He remembered the east wing.
His father had kept a private office there.
After Arthur died, Helena had ordered the wing sealed for renovations.
The renovations somehow never happened.
Roman had stopped asking.
“How does Sophie fit into this?”
Helena took a slow breath.
“After Arthur died, Claire began looking through his files.”
“Why?”
“She didn’t believe the heart-attack report.”
“Neither did you?”
“No.”
“Did you tell her that?”
“No.”
Roman turned.
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t trust Claire.”
He almost smiled.
“Of course.”
“She was hiding things from you long before Sophie disappeared.”
“What things?”
“Bank accounts.”
Roman looked at her.
“Which accounts?”
“Accounts in Switzerland.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“They existed.”
“You’re lying.”
Helena’s expression remained steady.
“I have the statements.”
Roman stared at her.
“Why would Claire have secret accounts?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said they belonged to your father.”
Roman stopped.
That made less sense.
Arthur Vale had controlled billions through companies, trusts, and investment vehicles.
Secret accounts were possible.
But why would Claire control them?
Helena continued.
“Two months after Arthur died, Claire told me someone had entered Sophie’s nursery.”
Roman’s breathing slowed.
“What?”
“Nothing was taken.”
“How did she know?”
“The window was unlocked.”
Roman remembered that nursery.
Second floor.
East side.
Protected grounds.
Security cameras.
No one should have reached that window.
“What else?”
“A toy had been moved.”
“What toy?”
“A wooden horse.”
Roman remembered it.
Arthur had given Sophie a hand-carved horse two weeks before he died.
Roman had always thought it was an odd gift for a baby.
Helena spoke quietly.
“Claire broke it open.”
Roman looked at her.
“There was a flash drive inside.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“What was on it?”
“She never showed me.”
“Then how do you know?”
“She told me your father had hidden evidence on it.”
“Evidence of what?”
Helena’s eyes moved toward the letter.
“Names.”
Roman pulled the silver key from his pocket.
417.
A bank box.
Claire’s letter.
A hidden flash drive.
A missing fortune.
“Who was on the list?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I expect nothing from you anymore.”
Roman stepped away.
His head was pounding.
A sound came from the hallway.
Running footsteps.
The library door opened.
Nora appeared.
She was pale.
“Roman.”
He turned.
“What?”
“Sophie’s gone.”
Everything inside him stopped.
“What do you mean gone?”
“I went to get her water.”
“For how long?”
“Maybe thirty seconds.”
Roman pushed past her.
He ran.
The study was empty.
The windows were locked.
The terrace door was closed.
Daniel and three guards arrived seconds later.
Roman checked the adjoining bathroom.
Empty.
Closet.
Empty.
“Cameras.”
Daniel was already on his radio.
“Security control, locate Sophie Vale immediately.”
Static.
Then a guard’s voice.
“Sir, we have a problem.”
“What problem?”
“The interior cameras went offline four minutes ago.”
Roman turned toward Helena.
She had followed them.
“You.”
Helena looked horrified.
“Not me.”
Roman crossed the room.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You already took her once.”
“If I wanted to take Sophie, I wouldn’t do it like this.”
Nora suddenly pointed toward the floor.
“Roman.”
Something white lay beside the desk.
A folded piece of paper.
Roman picked it up.
One sentence had been printed across it.
BRING THE 417 KEY TO THE EAST WING.
COME ALONE.
Roman’s hand closed around the note.
Helena whispered.
“No.”
Roman looked at her.
“You know what this means.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Helena’s face had turned gray.
“The east wing isn’t empty.”
Roman stared at her.
“What’s in there?”
Helena whispered.
May you like
“Your father’s last secret.”
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