Chapter 5 - THE BROTHER WHO WOULDN'T COME HOME
“Daniel ordered you to bring me here?”
Arthur nodded.
Catherine stared at him.
“Then where is he?”
“I don't know his current location.”
“Don't lie to me again.”
“I'm not lying.”
She held up the Saint Christopher medal.
“You saw him three weeks ago. You carried messages for him. You arranged this entire evening. And you expect me to believe you don't know where he is?”
Arthur looked at the floor.
“He doesn't trust me with that information.”
“Apparently, neither should I.”
The words hurt him.
Catherine could see that.
But she was tired of protecting the feelings of men who had spent ten years withholding the truth.
Vargas lowered himself into a chair.
“Ekaterina, Daniel has been working to uncover what happened to your family.”
“For ten years?”
“Most of them.”
“And none of you thought to tell me?”
Arthur answered softly.
“Your brother believed anyone associated with him would be in danger.”
Catherine laughed once.
It was an ugly, exhausted sound.
“I married a man who threatened his employees, humiliated me in public, and used my identity without permission. How much safer did Daniel imagine I could possibly be?”
Nobody answered.
Victor stood near the windows, his face drawn.
For once, he seemed unsure whether he belonged in the conversation.
Then he spoke.
“I can tell you something about Daniel.”
Catherine turned.
“What?”
“Three months ago, someone contacted my office about the waterfront contracts.”
“Who?”
“He used the name David Vale.”
Arthur looked up.
Catherine noticed.
Victor continued.
“He warned me the ownership records were compromised. Said I should withdraw before the acquisition closed.”
“And you ignored him?”
“I thought he was working for a competitor.”
“Did you meet him?”
“Once.”
Catherine felt her pulse quicken.
“Where?”
“At a restaurant in Manhattan. Private dining room. He wore a gray coat and had a scar across his left eyebrow.”
Catherine closed her eyes.
Daniel had received that scar when he was eleven.
He had fallen from a bicycle while trying to impress a girl who lived two streets away.
She had cleaned the cut herself.
Their mother had scolded them both for not wearing helmets.
“Was he angry?” she asked.
Victor hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me there were consequences for building fortunes on stolen property.”
Catherine opened her eyes.
“Anything else?”
Victor looked ashamed.
“He asked about you.”
Her heart twisted.
“What did you tell him?”
“That my marriage was none of his business.”
Catherine stared.
Victor swallowed.
“He knew your name. Your job. He knew about Khloe.”
Arthur shut his eyes.
Catherine spoke carefully.
“Did he ask whether I was happy?”
Victor looked down.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“I told him you had everything you needed.”
The silence that followed was unbearable.
Catherine remembered all the times Victor had introduced her as his quiet wife.
His grateful wife.
His wife who never caused trouble.
Daniel had been close enough to ask about her.
And she had been living in the same house where Victor had hidden her father's watch.
She pressed both hands against the table.
“Why didn't he come to me?”
Arthur stepped closer.
“Because he believed he was being watched.”
“By whom?”
“We're still trying to establish that.”
Catherine looked at him.
“You keep saying 'we.' Who else is involved?”
Arthur hesitated.
Then he removed a small envelope from his portfolio.
“Daniel left this for you.”
Catherine refused to touch it.
“No more surprises delivered one piece at a time. Tell me what's inside.”
“A photograph.”
“Of what?”
Arthur placed it on the table.
The photograph showed the old Volkov estate before the fire.
The stone house stood beyond a line of trees.
Near the west gate was a dark sedan.
Three men stood beside it.
Catherine recognized her father immediately.
She recognized Arthur.
The third man wore a long black coat.
His face was partly turned away.
But the ring on his hand was visible.
A heavy gold ring engraved with a letter C.
Giovanni Costello.
Victor's father.
Catherine looked toward Victor.
“Your father was there.”
Victor approached the photograph.
His face changed.
“No.”
She pointed at the ring.
“He wore that ring every day.”
Victor stared.
“I know.”
“Then why are you denying it?”
“Because he told me he was in Chicago that week.”
Arthur spoke.
“He wasn't.”
Victor sank into a chair.
For years, he had believed Giovanni Costello was a difficult but honorable businessman.
His father had taught him to never show weakness.
To seize opportunities before someone else did.
To treat kindness as a liability.
Victor had spent his adult life trying to become the man Giovanni admired.
Now he was staring at proof that his father had lied about the most important night in Catherine's life.
Catherine studied the photograph.
“Who took this?”
“Eleanor Price,” Arthur answered.
“The reporter?”
“Yes.”
“Why was she at our house?”
“She had arranged to meet Daniel.”
Catherine looked up.
“Daniel was bringing a reporter to confront our father?”
Arthur nodded.
“He believed public exposure was the only way to stop Nikolai.”
Vargas rubbed his forehead.
“Your father was furious when he discovered the meeting.”
“Did he threaten Daniel?”
“Yes.”
Catherine swallowed.
“And you stood beside him.”
Arthur didn't deny it.
“I was his legal adviser. I believed I could persuade him to reconsider.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Catherine looked at the photograph again.
Giovanni Costello stood near the car with one hand tucked into his coat.
He looked relaxed.
Almost friendly.
“Why did Giovanni come?”
Arthur's jaw tightened.
“Because Nikolai asked him for help.”
“With what?”
“The ledger.”
Catherine felt a new dread settle over her.
Her father had been trying to protect the ledger.
Giovanni had been trying to obtain it.
Daniel had been trying to expose it.
And Arthur had locked the gate.
Every explanation opened another terrible possibility.
A quiet movement at the ballroom entrance interrupted them.
Tommy Russo approached.
“Mrs. Costello.”
Catherine turned.
“What is it?”
“Anna found something while preparing the upstairs rooms.”
Victor stiffened.
“Why was Anna in my office?”
Tommy ignored him.
“She was collecting linens from the adjoining bedroom. One of the drawers was open.”
He placed a small brown envelope on the table.
Catherine recognized it immediately.
The envelope had come from the old Volkov estate.
Her father had used the same heavy stationery for years.
Across the front, in familiar handwriting, were two words.
For Katie.
Her knees nearly buckled.
Arthur reached toward it.
Catherine pulled it away.
“No.”
She opened the envelope herself.
Inside was a faded ferry ticket.
New Haven to Long Island.
Dated three days after the fire.
On the back, someone had written a single sentence.
She must never know what happened at the landing.
Catherine turned the ticket over.
Beneath the sentence were two sets of initials.
N.V.
And A.K.
Her father.
And Arthur.
She lifted her eyes.
Arthur's face had gone pale.
Catherine spoke slowly.
“You told me my father died the night of the attack.”
Arthur didn't move.
“You told me Daniel disappeared.”
Still nothing.
“And now you're telling me my father was alive three days later?”
Vargas rose abruptly.
“Arthur, what have you done?”
Arthur covered his face.
For a moment, Catherine thought he might collapse.
Then he lowered his hands.
“The ticket was never meant to reach you.”
Catherine felt cold.
“Why?”
Arthur looked at her.
“Because your father wasn't trying to escape the men who attacked his estate.”
May you like
His voice broke.
“He was trying to stop Daniel from telling you what he'd done.”
