Chapter 2 - The Lock That Shouldn't Exist
“My God... who did this?”
Nathan's question hung in the cellar like smoke.
I looked at him.
Really looked at him.
For seventeen years, I had known every version of Nathan Cross.
I knew the nineteen-year-old kid who had dragged me behind a brick wall during a shooting in Newark. I knew the man who sat beside my hospital bed after a deal in Baltimore went wrong. I knew the friend who had stood next to me at my father's funeral when half the room secretly wondered whether I would survive long enough to inherit anything.
I knew how Nathan lied to police.
I knew how he lied to enemies.
And I knew how he lied to me.
His left thumb always rubbed once across the side of his index finger.
It was doing it now.
“Step away from the door,” I said.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Dom?”
“Now.”
Daniel and Marcus shifted behind him.
Nathan glanced at both guards, then back at me.
“Come on. You don't seriously think—”
“I said step away.”
The warmth disappeared from his expression.
Not anger.
Something worse.
Calculation.
Then he raised both hands and moved aside.
I turned back to Mia.
She was trying to sit upright, but her body shook so violently that I took off my coat and wrapped it around her shoulders.
Harper crawled directly into her lap.
“Mommy.”
Mia buried her face against her daughter's tangled hair.
“Oh, baby.”
Harper began crying harder.
“I told them. I told everybody you didn't leave me.”
“I know.”
“They said you went to Grandma's.”
Mia froze.
Slowly, her eyes rose over Harper's head.
They landed on Nathan.
Nathan stopped moving.
Mia's lips parted.
“You.”
Harper felt her mother tense.
I did too.
Nathan's face hardened.
“Mia, whatever you think—”
“You brought me water.”
The cellar went silent.
Daniel turned toward Nathan.
Marcus's hand moved toward his weapon.
I stood.
“When?”
Mia's voice was weak.
“The second night.”
Nathan exhaled.
“Mia—”
“Answer me,” I said.
He looked at me.
“I found her.”
“And left her here?”
“I didn't put her here.”
“That wasn't my question.”
He clenched his jaw.
“No.”
I took one step toward him.
“You found a woman tied to a rack beneath my house and left her here?”
“There are things you don't understand.”
I almost laughed.
People only said that when they were about to explain something unforgivable.
Before I could answer, heels struck the iron staircase above us.
Fast.
Then Claire appeared.
She wore a cream sweater, dark pants, and the diamond engagement ring I had placed on her finger eleven months earlier.
Her hair was loose.
Her face was pale.
“Dominic?”
She stopped when she saw Mia.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Mia pulled Harper tighter.
Claire rushed forward.
“Mia, what happened?”
“Don't.”
The word barely came out of Mia's throat.
Claire stopped.
Mia stared at her.
“You know exactly what happened.”
Claire's face changed.
Only for a second.
Then she looked at me.
“Dominic, she's confused.”
Mia gave a dry, broken laugh.
“Am I?”
“Mia, you've been down here for three days. You're dehydrated. You're terrified.”
“You brought me here.”
Claire went still.
I felt something cold settle behind my ribs.
“Explain,” I said.
Claire turned toward me.
“We came downstairs together on Tuesday afternoon. That part is true. You asked me to choose wine for the rehearsal dinner, remember?”
I remembered.
I'd texted her from Atlantic City.
Pick whatever you want. Make it expensive enough that your mother complains.
She had sent back a laughing emoji.
That memory suddenly made me sick.
Claire continued.
“Mia helped me for maybe fifteen minutes. Then she said she needed to check something in the kitchen. I went upstairs. I never saw her again.”
“You told Harper her mother went to Pennsylvania.”
“Because that's what Nathan told me.”
My eyes moved to him.
Nathan said nothing.
Claire looked at him.
“You told me Mia had a family emergency.”
Nathan's stare sharpened.
“No. You told me.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You called me Tuesday at seven seventeen.”
“You called me.”
Watching two people I trusted accuse each other should have made the truth clearer.
Instead, it made everything worse.
Because one of them was lying.
Maybe both.
“Mia,” I said.
She looked at me.
“What happened after you came down here?”
Her eyes moved toward Claire.
“I noticed a crate in the wrong section.”
Claire shook her head.
“Oh, for God's sake.”
“Let her talk.”
Claire went quiet.
Mia swallowed.
“It was labeled Château Margaux. But we'd never received that shipment. I know because I sign every delivery sheet myself.”
That sounded exactly like Mia.
She could tell when three bottles were missing from a four-hundred-bottle cellar without opening a spreadsheet.
“I checked the inventory number,” she continued. “It didn't match the wine records. It matched a household expense account.”
“What expense account?”
“Vale Foundation restoration projects.”
My stomach tightened.
The Vale Foundation was one of my family's legitimate operations. Scholarships. Hospitals. Historic restoration.
Mia looked at me.
“Thirty-eight thousand dollars for wine that never arrived.”
Nathan looked toward Claire.
Claire folded her arms.
“That proves someone made an accounting mistake.”
“There were fourteen shipments.”
Nobody spoke.
“Almost six hundred thousand dollars,” Mia whispered. “All charged through different restoration vendors.”
I crouched beside her.
“What did you find?”
“A second set of invoice numbers. Same approval code. Same destination company.”
“What company?”
“Northstar Holdings.”
I knew the name.
Not well.
But enough.
Northstar was one of several private companies my father had used decades earlier. After his death, our attorneys supposedly dissolved it.
“That's impossible,” I said.
“I thought so too.”
Mia took a breath.
“I went into the records room. I found a blue ledger in the old cabinet behind the wine inventory files.”
Nathan's eyes flickered.
That tiny movement told me more than words.
“You know about it,” I said.
“No.”
“You just reacted.”
“I reacted because your father used blue ledgers.”
I stood.
“How do you know that?”
Nathan looked almost annoyed.
“Because I worked for him before I worked for you.”
Claire interrupted.
“This is insane. We need a doctor, not an interrogation.”
“She needs both.”
Mia grabbed my sleeve.
“Dominic.”
Her voice had changed.
Urgent.
Terrified.
I leaned closer.
“I didn't just find financial records.”
“What else?”
“There were names.”
“What names?”
“I didn't have time to read all of them.”
“Whose names?”
“Judges. Contractors. Lawyers. People connected to your father.”
She swallowed.
“And Raymond Sloan.”
That name hit harder than it should have.
Raymond Sloan had been my father's attorney for almost thirty years.
He drafted my first business contract.
He helped me bury my father.
He was supposed to stand in the front row at my wedding.
Claire's face lost color.
I noticed.
So did Nathan.
Before I could ask why, Mia continued.
“I heard Claire coming.”
Claire snapped, “Stop saying my name like I'm the one who attacked you.”
“You asked me what I found.”
“I asked whether you needed help.”
“You asked me where the ledger was.”
Claire stared at her.
“No.”
“You locked the cellar door.”
“No.”
“Then somebody hit me from behind.”
Harper whimpered and buried her face in Mia's chest.
I held up a hand.
“Enough.”
I ordered Daniel to call my private physician and told Marcus to escort Nathan to the east study.
Nathan didn't move.
“Dom.”
“You'll stay there until I know what happened.”
“You think I'm going to run?”
“I didn't think Mia would spend three days tied beneath my house either.”
That shut him up.
Then I looked at Claire.
“You'll wait in the library.”
Her eyes filled instantly.
Not theatrically.
Almost convincingly.
“You're locking me up?”
“No.”
“What would you call it?”
“Six weeks before our wedding, I found a woman imprisoned underneath my home after you told her four-year-old daughter she'd left the state.”
I stepped closer.
“I call it asking you not to make this worse.”
Claire's lower lip trembled.
“Dominic, I love you.”
A week ago, those words could stop me.
That morning, they couldn't even slow me down.
“Marcus.”
He escorted her away.
Nathan followed Daniel.
The second they were gone, Mia whispered, “There's more.”
I turned.
She glanced toward the door.
“I woke up sometime Tuesday night. I couldn't see anyone clearly. They kept most of the lights off.”
“They?”
“At least two people.”
“Claire?”
“I heard her once.”
“Who was the other?”
“I don't know.”
“What did they want?”
“The ledger.”
“Where is it?”
“I moved it before they caught me.”
For the first time since entering that cellar, I felt something close to hope.
“Where?”
Mia closed her eyes.
“I photographed everything first.”
My pulse jumped.
“With your phone?”
She shook her head.
“A flash drive.”
“Where is it?”
She looked down at Harper.
Harper lifted her wet, confused face.
“Benny.”
I frowned.
“Who is Benny?”
“My bunny,” Harper whispered.
Mia nodded.
“I cut a seam beneath her stuffed rabbit's left ear. I put the drive inside before I went downstairs.”
“Does anybody know?”
“I don't think so.”
Harper suddenly looked frightened.
“Benny's gone.”
Mia stiffened.
“What?”
“I couldn't find him yesterday.”
I was already moving.
“Daniel!”
I ran up the cellar stairs, through the lower hall, and took the main staircase two steps at a time.
Harper's room was at the end of the second-floor west wing.
The door stood open.
Pink blanket on the bed.
Crayons on the floor.
A tiny pair of shoes beside the dresser.
No rabbit.
I checked beneath the bed.
Closet.
Toy chest.
Nothing.
Then I noticed cold air.
The window was open three inches.
Outside, fresh snow covered the roofline.
A single set of narrow footprints crossed it toward the old servants' wing.
“Dominic!”
Marcus shouted from downstairs.
I stepped into the hallway.
“What?”
He appeared at the bottom of the staircase.
Alone.
His face told me before his mouth did.
“Claire's gone.”
My chest went completely still.
“What do you mean gone?”
“The library was empty when I checked. One of the servant panels was open.”
I turned toward Harper's room.
Then I saw something lying on her pillow.
A photograph.
I picked it up.
It had been taken inside my estate less than twenty-four hours earlier.
Harper was asleep in bed, hugging Benny.
Someone had drawn a red circle around her face.
May you like
On the back, five words had been written in black ink.
YOU OPENED THE WRONG DOOR.
