Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN IN CELESTE'S PLACE
“Who was pretending to be my wife?”
Ronan held the photograph beneath Eleanor's reading lamp.
The reflection showed Conrad in the nursery.
Beside him stood a woman wearing a cream-colored coat.
A gold wedding ring glittered on her left hand.
It looked exactly like Celeste's.
But Celeste had been undergoing emergency medical treatment when the photograph was taken.
She could not have been standing there.
I leaned closer.
“Are you sure that's her ring?”
Ronan nodded.
“I designed it. There are three small diamonds on the inside.”
Daniel examined the photograph.
“Someone may have been wearing a similar ring. We need the original image and its metadata before drawing conclusions.”
Eleanor looked frightened.
“I know that coat.”
Ronan turned.
“What?”
“Celeste had one like it. She wore it to Zurich.”
“Where is it now?”
Eleanor stared at the cedar chest.
“I never received it.”
Ronan looked at me.
For the first time, I saw something beyond grief in his expression.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For what his wife had endured while everyone around her controlled the story.
The next morning, Daniel arranged a meeting with Martin Bell at the private residence overlooking Lake Michigan.
Martin was eighty-one, thin and silver-haired, with a walking cane beside his chair.
He recognized Ronan immediately.
“You have your father's eyes.”
Ronan didn't sit.
“Mr. Bell, I need to know what happened in Switzerland.”
Martin looked at the photograph.
His expression darkened.
“I hoped someone would find that.”
“Who is the woman?”
Martin adjusted his glasses.
“Her name is Rebecca Hale.”
I looked at Ronan.
He shook his head.
Neither of us knew her.
Martin explained that Rebecca had been Conrad's longtime administrative assistant.
She handled confidential correspondence, travel arrangements, and private medical paperwork.
“Conrad trusted her because she knew where every secret was buried,” Martin said.
“Was she impersonating Celeste?” Daniel asked.
“In certain records, yes.”
Ronan sat slowly.
Martin continued.
“Conrad needed someone to sign documents while Celeste was incapacitated. Rebecca used a similar coat and a replica ring to pass through areas where staff expected to see Mrs. Blackthorne.”
“Why would anyone allow that?” I asked.
“Because Conrad controlled the guest permissions, and the clinic's records were already compromised.”
Martin looked ashamed.
“I saw warning signs. I believed I could expose the financial fraud without involving the family.”
“But you didn't,” Ronan said.
“No.”
Martin accepted the accusation.
“I waited too long.”
Then he reached beneath his chair and removed an old leather briefcase.
Inside were copies of letters, financial reconciliations, and a photograph of Rebecca standing beside Conrad at the Swiss clinic.
But the most important item was a small yellow envelope.
It contained a handwritten receipt from a storage company.
Martin explained that Rebecca had privately contacted him after the births.
“She said Conrad had crossed a line she couldn't live with.”
“What did she give you?” I asked.
“A recording.”
Ronan leaned forward.
“Of what?”
“Celeste confronting Conrad about the babies.”
Martin explained that Rebecca had kept a private audio record of the meeting because she feared Conrad would blame her if the scheme collapsed.
“She wanted protection,” he said. “Not forgiveness.”
“Where is she now?”
“Working under her original name in Milwaukee. She left Conrad eighteen months ago.”
Daniel asked whether Martin had listened to the entire recording.
He nodded.
“And?”
Martin looked toward Ronan.
“Your wife knew the truth about Sienna's child. She tried to stop the transfer.”
Ronan's eyes filled.
“I know. We found her letter.”
Martin looked relieved.
“Good.”
Then his expression became serious again.
“But there's more.”
He opened a laptop and played the recording.
Conrad's voice emerged.
“Celeste, this is no longer your decision.”
Then Celeste spoke.
“You cannot take that woman's baby.”
“She won't know.”
“She'll know every day of her life.”
My throat tightened.
Celeste had understood.
Conrad answered coldly.
“The funds are already committed. If the transfers collapse, the companies will be investigated.”
“Then let them investigate.”
“You don't understand what's at stake.”
“I understand that you're treating two children like entries in a ledger.”
A long silence followed.
Then Rebecca's voice said:
“Conrad, stop. She's bleeding.”
The recording ended abruptly.
Ronan rose.
“Play the rest.”
Martin shook his head.
“That's all Rebecca gave me.”
Daniel inspected the file.
“The recording may have a longer original version.”
Martin nodded.
“Rebecca said she kept the original.”
Ronan stared at the screen.
“Then we need her.”
But I was looking at the financial records.
A transaction dated the morning after Celeste's death showed a payment of $2.6 million.
The beneficiary was Rebecca Hale.
I pointed at it.
“Why was she paid?”
Martin sighed.
“Conrad called it a severance agreement.”
Daniel examined the surrounding entries.
“There's no employment termination record attached.”
Ronan's expression hardened.
“She was paid to keep quiet.”
Martin didn't deny the possibility.
Then another record caught my attention.
A trust account had been established for Lily Hart.
Its funding came from the missing seventy-eight million.
But the account contained only a small portion of the total.
The rest had moved through companies controlled by Conrad.
At the bottom of the account statement was a current scheduled instruction.
Release of remaining assets upon confirmation of permanent guardianship.
Ronan read it.
“Permanent guardianship of Lily?”
Daniel nodded.
“Conrad may still be using her legal status to access the money.”
The transfer was scheduled for the following morning.
If processed, the remaining assets could move beyond immediate reach.
Then Martin spoke quietly.
“Rebecca told me one more thing before she left.”
Ronan turned.
“She said Conrad never expected both girls to survive the first month.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“Why?”
Martin looked at Lily's photograph.
“Because one of the babies was supposed to disappear from every official record.”
Ronan stared at him.
“Which one?”
May you like
Martin answered:
“Lily.”
