Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN THEY WERE FORBIDDEN TO FORGET
“Get off your knees,” Victor Costello ordered.
Nobody moved.
Three hundred guests stood beneath the chandeliers, watching three powerful men kneel before the woman Victor had just ordered to clean champagne from his mistress’s dress.
Catherine held the towel in one hand and the untouched champagne flute in the other.
“Gentlemen,” she said quietly. “Please stand.”
Alejandro Vargas rose first. Viktor Sokolov followed, his expression unreadable. Arthur Kensington pushed himself upright more slowly, one hand resting against his leather portfolio.
Victor stepped between them.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Your wife has requested a meeting,” Arthur answered.
“My wife doesn't request meetings with men like you.”
Vargas looked at him.
“Apparently, Mr. Costello, there are many things you don't know about your wife.”
A few guests exchanged glances.
Khloe Harrington pressed a hand against her champagne-stained skirt.
“Victor, darling, this is ridiculous. Catherine works at a library.”
Catherine placed the towel on a nearby table.
“Yes,” she said. “I do.”
She turned toward the nearest server.
“Could you please bring Miss Harrington some club soda? That should help with the stain.”
The young woman nodded and disappeared.
Victor caught Catherine's wrist.
“Enough. Explain yourself.”
Tommy Russo moved half a step forward.
Catherine noticed.
So did Vargas.
But she looked only at her husband.
“Let go of my wrist, Victor.”
He tightened his grip.
“Not until—”
“Victor.”
She had never spoken his name that way.
Not loudly.
Not angrily.
Simply as though she had reached the end of a conversation she had been having for three years.
He released her.
Catherine turned toward the guests.
“I'm sorry to interrupt your evening. There has been a misunderstanding about who I am, and I believe it's time to correct it.”
Victor laughed.
“Wonderful. My wife has decided to put on a performance.”
Arthur opened his portfolio.
Inside lay a single photograph.
He placed it on the table beside Catherine.
The photograph showed a young girl standing between a silver-haired man and a teenage boy on the steps of an enormous stone house.
The girl wore a navy coat.
Around her wrist was a thin silver bracelet decorated with three tiny stars.
Catherine's breath caught.
She had not seen that photograph in ten years.
Vargas touched the corner of it.
“Your father carried this in his wallet,” he told her. “Even after everything happened.”
Victor leaned forward.
“Whose father?”
Catherine answered before anyone else could.
“Mine.”
Arthur studied her carefully.
“Are you ready?”
She looked toward the windows overlooking Long Island Sound.
Ten years earlier, she had stood on another shoreline, holding that same bracelet while a house burned behind her.
She had promised herself she would never return.
Then she had married Victor.
And gradually discovered that the past had followed her into her own bedroom.
“Yes,” she said.
Arthur faced the room.
“Ladies and gentlemen, Catherine Costello was born Ekaterina Volkov.”
A low murmur traveled through the ballroom.
Several older guests went completely still.
Arthur continued.
“She is the daughter of Nikolai Volkov.”
Someone dropped a glass.
Victor turned pale.
Nikolai Volkov had been one of the most influential men in the criminal world.
His network had controlled shipping contracts, private security companies, waterfront property, and financial interests worth billions.
Ten years earlier, his estate had been attacked.
His family had supposedly been destroyed.
Victor knew the story.
Everyone in his business knew the story.
“The Volkov daughter died,” he said.
“No,” Catherine replied.
“That's impossible.”
“I'm standing right here.”
Khloe gave a nervous laugh.
“This has to be some kind of elaborate joke.”
Vargas turned toward her.
“Miss Harrington, you would be wise to remain quiet.”
Khloe's smile disappeared.
Victor looked around the ballroom.
Men who had been flattering him twenty minutes earlier were now avoiding his eyes.
He turned back toward Catherine.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
She studied him.
“Would it have mattered?”
“Of course it would have mattered!”
“Because you would have treated me differently?”
He opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Catherine glanced at the emerald necklace around Khloe's throat.
“You took my mother's earrings and gave them away last Christmas. You took the necklace my grandmother left me this morning. You told me I should be grateful you allowed me to live in your house.”
“That house is mine.”
“Yes,” Catherine said. “You remind me every day.”
Arthur cleared his throat.
“The Volkov estate was never legally extinguished. Its controlling trust remains active.”
Victor stared at him.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you have been negotiating the purchase of three waterfront terminals belonging to that trust.”
Victor's face changed.
Those terminals were the reason he had invited Vargas, Sokolov, and Kensington tonight.
They represented his largest business opportunity.
The contracts would give him control over a critical section of the Eastern Seaboard.
He had borrowed heavily to finance the acquisition.
He had promised investors a fortune.
And he had already spent money he did not possess.
“You're saying my wife owns those terminals?”
“Not directly,” Arthur answered. “She is the controlling beneficiary of the trust that holds them.”
Victor looked at Catherine.
For the first time that evening, he looked frightened.
Then his expression hardened.
“You knew.”
Catherine said nothing.
“You knew what I was building. You knew how much money I had invested.”
“I knew you were acquiring properties through companies whose ownership you deliberately concealed.”
“That was business!”
“Some of those companies were created using signatures you didn't have permission to use.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Be careful.”
Catherine almost smiled.
Three years of marriage.
And he was still threatening her.
Arthur laid another document beside the photograph.
“The trust has suspended the terminal negotiations pending an investigation into unauthorized transfers.”
Victor's breathing quickened.
“You can't do that.”
“The suspension took effect at nine forty-five tonight.”
Catherine remembered the message from her attorney.
Everything is in place. Your decision.
She had made it.
Victor seized the edge of the table.
“You have no idea what you've done.”
“I know exactly what I've done.”
“No, Catherine. You don't.”
His voice dropped.
“If those contracts disappear, people are going to come looking for their money.”
Vargas's face remained cold.
“Perhaps you should have considered that before making promises with property that wasn't yours.”
Victor turned toward Sokolov.
“You understand what's at stake. Tell them!”
Sokolov shook his head.
“You were warned about the ownership records.”
Victor looked toward the exits.
Tommy stood near the ballroom doors.
For one dangerous moment, Catherine thought her husband might order his security team to intervene.
Instead, Victor laughed bitterly.
“Fine. You want money? Take it. You want a divorce? I'll sign it. But don't pretend you're some innocent little librarian who suddenly discovered a fortune.”
Catherine approached him.
“I never said I was innocent, Victor.”
He blinked.
“Ten years ago,” she continued, “I disappeared because someone murdered my father and tried to murder my brother and me.”
Arthur lowered his eyes.
“And six weeks ago,” Catherine said, “I found something in your private office.”
Victor's fingers tightened against the table.
She reached into her clutch.
A small silver watch rested in her palm.
Its glass was cracked.
Its hands had stopped at 11:47.
Arthur made a strangled sound.
Vargas gripped his cane.
Catherine held the watch beneath the chandelier.
“This belonged to my father.”
Victor stared at it.
Then he whispered something Catherine had never expected to hear.
“Where did you get that?”
“From the locked drawer in your office.”
The room seemed to shrink around them.
Victor took a step backward.
“That watch was never supposed to leave the house.”
Catherine felt her pulse hammer.
“What house?”
He looked toward Arthur.
Then toward Vargas.
His face had gone completely white.
“The house where your brother was taken,” Victor whispered.
Catherine stopped breathing.
Because she had never told her husband that her brother had been taken.
May you like
She had told him her entire family was dead.
And now Victor had just revealed that he knew the difference.
