Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH FROM ZURICH
“You knew who I was?”
I turned toward Julian.
The photograph trembled in my brother's hand.
Fourteen months ago, Julian had told me he was attending an investment conference in London.
He had returned carrying expensive perfume and a story about delayed flights.
I remembered thanking him.
I remembered kissing his cheek.
Now I was looking at proof that he had spent part of that trip in Zurich with his mistress.
And Eleanor Vale.
Julian glanced at the photograph.
“That's a business meeting.”
“With Eleanor?” I asked.
His silence told me more than his words.
Eleanor had worked for my father for almost twenty years.
She had attended birthdays, Christmas dinners, and my mother's funeral.
When I was seventeen, she taught me how to read a balance sheet.
When my mother died, Eleanor had held my hand during the service.
Then, three years ago, she disappeared from our lives after an accounting dispute.
My father never explained what happened.
“Why was she wearing Grandma's necklace?” I asked.
Caspian looked uncomfortable.
“We've been trying to answer that.”
Saraphina stepped forward.
“Eleanor was Julian's financial adviser. There's nothing scandalous about that.”
I turned toward her.
“How do you know?”
Her expression faltered.
“Because I attended the meeting.”
My father studied her.
“Then perhaps you can explain why a restricted Devo Foundation investment account received instructions from an organization registered to your family.”
Saraphina stiffened.
“My family runs charitable trusts.”
“Apparently,” my father said.
Julian raised both hands.
“This is absurd. We're at a charity gala, not a courtroom.”
I looked around.
Hundreds of guests were watching.
Some had their phones lowered discreetly beneath the tablecloths.
Others had stopped pretending not to listen.
I suddenly understood that my humiliation was becoming entertainment.
“Enough,” I said.
Everyone turned toward me.
“I don't want another minute of my marriage discussed for the amusement of strangers.”
My father nodded.
“Of course.”
He offered his arm.
I took it.
But as we approached the patrons' entrance, Saraphina called after me.
“Aara, wait.”
I stopped.
Her expression had changed.
The cruelty was gone.
In its place was something almost desperate.
“You should know that Eleanor isn't who your family thinks she is.”
Julian turned sharply.
“Saraphina.”
She ignored him.
“Ask your father about the night your mother died.”
My breath caught.
My mother, Helena Devo, had died nine years earlier after complications from emergency surgery.
It had been the worst night of my life.
“What does my mother have to do with this?”
Saraphina looked toward Augustus.
For the first time, my father seemed genuinely shaken.
“Miss Dubois,” he said carefully, “don't involve Helena in your excuses.”
Saraphina's eyes filled with tears.
“I'm not making excuses.”
Julian caught her elbow.
“Stop talking.”
She pulled away.
And suddenly I wasn't looking at a wealthy, arrogant woman who had poured champagne over my dress.
I was looking at someone terrified of saying the wrong thing.
Caspian positioned himself between Julian and me.
“Aara needs medical attention,” he said firmly.
My father looked down at my hands.
They were still resting protectively against my stomach.
“Aara?”
I swallowed.
There were things I'd planned to tell Julian that evening.
Things I'd imagined whispering over dinner, perhaps with happy tears.
Instead, I stood beneath a thousand crystal lights and said the words I'd been carrying alone.
“I'm pregnant.”
My father's eyes widened.
Caspian went perfectly still.
Julian stared.
“What?”
“Seven weeks.”
For one second, his face softened.
Then something calculating moved behind his eyes.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
I almost laughed.
“I tried.”
He looked at the guests, then at my father.
“Aara, this changes everything.”
“No,” I answered. “It changes what I have to protect.”
My father immediately turned toward Caspian.
“Get the car.”
Caspian nodded.
A museum attendant led us toward a private corridor.
As we walked away, Julian called after me.
“We're still married!”
I didn't turn around.
But I heard my father answer.
“Not for lack of trying on your part.”
Outside, the cold Manhattan air touched my face.
A private physician was waiting at the Devo residence, and my father insisted we go there first.
During the drive, Caspian sat beside me.
He didn't ask questions.
He simply held my hand.
Then I noticed something on his wrist.
A gold watch.
My mother's watch.
She had given it to him shortly before she died.
He rarely wore it.
“Why are you wearing Mom's watch?”
He looked down.
“Dad asked me to.”
“Why?”
Caspian exchanged a glance with our father.
Then he reached into his pocket.
He removed a small, folded piece of blue paper.
It looked old.
Fragile.
“I found this inside the watch case last week.”
He opened it carefully.
My mother's handwriting covered the paper.
There were only three lines.
If anything happens to me, protect Aara.
Do not trust Eleanor with the children's inheritance.
And Augustus must never sign the final transfer.
I stared at the note.
My father whispered, “I never knew she wrote that.”
Then Caspian turned the paper over.
On the back was a bank account number.
May you like
And beneath it, in handwriting I recognized immediately, was Julian's full name.
JULIAN VANCE — AUTHORIZED BENEFICIARY.
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