Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO SIGNED THE PAYMENT
“Don't open that door, Megan. The woman who arranged your delivery is the same woman who brought you tea.”
Megan's hand froze on the bedroom lock.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
“Moren?” she finally whispered.
Adrian Valenti stood on the other side of the door.
“Her signature is on the payment authorization.”
Megan looked at the beautiful bedroom.
The fresh flowers.
The clean sheets.
The silver tray beside the bed.
Everything that had made her feel safe suddenly looked different.
“You sent her upstairs with me.”
“I didn't know until I checked the household accounts.”
“And I'm supposed to believe that?”
“No,” Adrian answered. “You're supposed to ask questions.”
Megan backed away from the door.
Her knees struck the bed.
Four years with Rick had taught her something terrible.
The people who frightened you most were often the ones who promised to protect you.
“I'm calling the police.”
“You should.”
She hadn't expected that answer.
Adrian continued.
“Your phone is in your purse. Nobody has taken it. If you want to leave, I'll arrange transportation to any place you choose.”
Megan found her phone.
Three missed calls from Rick.
Two messages.
The first read:
You embarrassed me tonight.
The second made her stomach turn.
Whatever happens next is your fault.
She blocked his number.
Then she called the Providence police nonemergency line and explained that her former boyfriend had brought her to a mansion under false pretenses.
The dispatcher advised her to preserve the messages and offered to send an officer if she felt threatened.
Megan requested that the incident be documented.
Only then did she approach the door.
“Show me the authorization.”
A sheet of paper slid beneath it.
She picked it up.
Forty thousand dollars.
Recipient: Richard Delaney.
Purpose: Private beneficiary meeting.
Authorized by: Moren Bell.
Megan stared at the signature.
It was unmistakable.
“Why would she do this?”
“That,” Adrian said, “is what I intend to find out.”
Twenty minutes later, Megan entered the downstairs sitting room with her phone in her hand.
Adrian had offered to let her remain upstairs.
She'd refused.
She was finished letting other people discuss her life without her.
Moren stood beside the fireplace.
The older woman's face crumpled when she saw the paper.
“Megan, sweetheart—”
“Don't call me that.”
Moren went silent.
“You told me nobody could get into that bedroom.”
“That's true.”
“You told me I was safe.”
“You are.”
“Then explain why you paid my ex-boyfriend forty thousand dollars to bring me here.”
Moren looked at Adrian.
He didn't rescue her.
“Tell her,” he said.
Moren's hands trembled.
“I signed the authorization because Mrs. Valenti instructed me to.”
“Mrs. Valenti?”
“My aunt,” Adrian answered. “Eleanor Valenti.”
Megan glanced toward the staircase.
“She's here?”
“She lives in the east wing.”
“And you didn't think to mention that somebody in your own family had arranged this?”
“I learned who approved the payment less than an hour ago.”
Moren stepped closer.
“Mrs. Valenti said you were entitled to an inheritance meeting. She told me Mr. Delaney was helping arrange your transportation.”
“Why pay him forty thousand dollars?”
“I asked the same question.”
“And?”
“She said he had information about an old family agreement.”
Megan laughed bitterly.
“Rick doesn't know anything about my family. He barely remembered my mother's birthday.”
Moren lowered her eyes.
“There's more.”
Adrian looked sharply at her.
“What more?”
Moren swallowed.
“I knew your mother.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“My mother?”
“Rose Walsh.”
Megan tightened her grip on the authorization.
Her mother had died eight years earlier.
She'd owned a little flower shop in Providence, worn the same blue wool coat every winter, and believed a fresh bouquet could make a difficult day easier.
Megan still remembered her last Christmas.
They couldn't afford gifts.
Rose had made a wreath from pine branches and tied a red ribbon around it.
Beautiful things don't have to be expensive, sweetheart.
That was what she'd said.
Megan looked at Moren.
“How did you know her?”
“She worked on the Raven Court gardens.”
“What gardens?”
A voice answered from the doorway.
“The gardens your mother nearly destroyed.”
An elegant older woman stood beneath the chandelier.
Silver-blonde hair.
Pearl earrings.
A cream-colored jacket.
She carried a black leather folder.
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Aunt Eleanor.”
Eleanor Valenti ignored him.
Her attention remained on Megan.
“You have Rose's eyes.”
Megan felt exposed.
“Did you pay Rick?”
“I authorized a payment, yes.”
“For what?”
“To bring you here for a discussion your mother should have prepared you to have years ago.”
“You could have called me.”
“Would you have answered?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor studied her.
“I doubt that.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“Enough. You don't get to question her honesty after using Delaney.”
Eleanor's mouth tightened.
“Your grandmother trusted me to protect this family, Adrian. I've spent twenty years doing exactly that.”
“By buying a woman from her abusive boyfriend?”
“I bought his cooperation. His disgusting behavior at dinner was his own invention.”
“You knew what kind of man he was,” Megan said.
Eleanor didn't deny it.
Instead, she opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph.
A beautiful old greenhouse stood beside a row of small white cottages.
Women carried flowers in wooden baskets.
An elderly lady smiled beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
Beside her stood Rose Walsh.
Younger.
Healthy.
Laughing.
Megan's throat tightened.
“Mom.”
“That was Raven Court,” Eleanor said. “Your mother and Adrian's grandmother developed it together.”
“Why?”
“To provide affordable homes for retired workers and their families. Your mother managed the gardens and held a stewardship interest.”
Megan looked up.
“What kind of interest?”
“One that passed to you when she died.”
Adrian moved closer to the folder.
“Aunt Eleanor, why wasn't this disclosed in the estate records?”
“Because Helena's agreement was complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
Eleanor closed the folder halfway.
“The property can be sold only with the steward's consent. Your mother held that authority. Now Megan does.”
Megan stared at her.
“You paid Rick to bring me here because you need my signature?”
“Yes.”
“To sell those people's homes?”
“To save a company that employs eighty-six families.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“You should have brought this to me.”
“I tried discussing Raven Court with you. You told me the old properties were my responsibility.”
“You never mentioned Megan.”
“Because I knew you'd react exactly like this.”
Megan stepped between them.
“Stop.”
Both fell silent.
“I've been here for hours. First Rick offers me to a stranger. Then I find out the woman who made me tea helped arrange it. Now you're telling me my dead mother left me something nobody bothered to mention.”
Her voice broke.
“And every one of you seems to know more about my life than I do.”
Eleanor's expression softened slightly.
“Your mother wasn't an innocent woman, Megan.”
“Don't.”
“She made promises she couldn't keep.”
“Don't talk about her like that.”
“Then perhaps you should see the truth.”
Eleanor removed another photograph.
This one showed a narrow storefront.
WALSH FLOWERS.
A thick chain hung across its door.
A teenage girl stood crying on the sidewalk.
Megan recognized herself immediately.
She'd been fifteen.
Her mother had been inside, begging someone to let her retrieve her wedding photographs and flower-shop records.
Standing beside the locked entrance was a younger Adrian Valenti.
He held the chain.
Megan looked from the photograph to the man beside her.
“That's you.”
Adrian's face lost its color.
“Yes.”
“You closed my mother's shop?”
He said nothing.
Megan remembered the rain that afternoon.
The ruined flowers.
Her mother's shaking hands.
Everything they'd lost afterward.
May you like
Eleanor spoke quietly.
“Before you decide which Valenti deserves your trust, Megan, perhaps Adrian should explain why your mother begged him not to lock that door.”
