Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT BEFORE SHE RAN
“You met Marianne?”
Sloan's voice was barely audible.
Caspian didn't deny it.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The night before you left.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“You've had six months to tell me.”
“I didn't know it mattered until now.”
“Why did you meet her?”
Caspian looked around the room.
“Everyone out.”
Sloan shook her head.
“No.”
“Sloan—”
“No more private versions of the truth.”
Caspian held her gaze.
Then nodded.
“Marianne contacted me because she knew we were together.”
“How?”
“She recognized my name from old hospital files.”
Sloan crossed her arms.
“What did she want?”
“Money.”
Malcolm's expression darkened.
Caspian continued.
“She said she had information about your father that could hurt you.”
“And you paid her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she wouldn't show me proof.”
Sloan stared at him.
“Then what happened?”
“She told me Thomas Hale had stolen from my family.”
“That was a lie.”
“I know that now.”
“But you believed her then.”
“For about twelve hours.”
Sloan flinched.
Those twelve hours included the night she overheard him talking about making an example of someone.
Caspian understood.
“The man I was talking about that night was connected to Marianne.”
Sloan went still.
“What?”
“He worked at the docks and had been moving money through one of the old accounts. I didn't know the account belonged to my father.”
Everything rearranged itself.
She hadn't overheard Caspian ordering punishment over some random betrayal.
He had already been brushing against the secret that drove her away.
“Why didn't you tell me Marianne approached you?”
“I planned to.”
“But I disappeared.”
“Yes.”
Sloan turned away.
The anger remained.
But certainty didn't.
For six months she had constructed Caspian from one overheard sentence.
He had constructed her disappearance from an empty apartment.
They had both lived inside incomplete evidence.
Daniel broke the silence.
“Marianne's coming here for the ledger.”
“Then let her,” Sloan said.
Caspian turned.
“No.”
“We need proof she knows what she's doing.”
“We already have the transactions.”
“We have a name attached to them. She can claim somebody used her credentials.”
Malcolm nodded reluctantly.
“Sloan's right.”
Caspian looked at him.
“I wasn't asking.”
Sloan stepped close.
“You don't get to decide this alone.”
His eyes dropped to her belly.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
A long silence.
Finally Caspian said, “Tell me the plan.”
That mattered more than Sloan expected.
They didn't set a theatrical trap.
They simply returned to Sloan's apartment.
Elias arranged for the financial archive to be backed up securely.
Morrison contacted hospital compliance officers and federal financial investigators through legitimate channels.
Then Sloan sent Marianne one message.
I found Dad's records. We need to talk.
Marianne answered ten minutes later.
Tomorrow morning. Your clinic.
No threats.
No mysterious demands.
Just a meeting.
Marianne arrived at nine wearing the same navy coat Sloan remembered from Boston.
She looked exhausted.
When she saw Sloan, her eyes filled.
“You're pregnant.”
“You knew.”
Marianne's face tightened.
“I suspected.”
“You forged a test.”
“I created a record.”
“Why?”
“To make Caspian believe your pregnancy had been documented before you disappeared.”
Sloan stared.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It wasn't for Caspian.”
Marianne looked toward Malcolm.
“It was for him.”
Malcolm frowned.
Marianne's composure finally cracked.
“My father spent his entire life terrified of the Reeds. When I discovered Thomas's daughter was dating Caspian Reed, I thought history was repeating itself.”
“So you tried to separate us?”
“Yes.”
The answer stunned Sloan.
Marianne wasn't trying to expose her pregnancy.
She had been trying to create a trail that would make Sloan easier to protect if she vanished.
“Then why use the account?”
Marianne looked ashamed.
“My father left debts. Serious ones. I found the old system years ago.”
“And stole from it.”
“Yes.”
No excuse.
Just truth.
“Then you learned my father had evidence.”
“I panicked.”
Marianne looked at Sloan.
“I wrote your Providence recommendation because I wanted you away from Boston. Then Malcolm contacted Morrison, Daniel started asking questions, and I realized everything was collapsing.”
Caspian stepped forward.
“Did you send the surveillance photograph?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make you find her.”
Sloan stared.
“You wanted Caspian to find me?”
“I realized someone else was looking for Thomas's records.”
“Who?”
Marianne's face changed.
“That's why I came.”
She opened her purse slowly.
Not a weapon.
A child's drawing.
Crayon on yellowed paper.
Two boys.
A woman.
A house.
Caspian took it.
He recognized his own childhood handwriting.
At the bottom were four words.
Mom, Cas, Jules, Uncle.
On the back, Evelyn had written an address.
Malcolm stared.
“No.”
Daniel looked at him.
“What?”
“That house was sold after Evelyn died.”
Marianne shook her head.
“No. It was transferred into a trust.”
“Whose?”
She looked at Caspian.
“Yours.”
Caspian frowned.
“I don't own it.”
“Yes, you do.”
Marianne placed another item beside the drawing.
A brass key.
“I found this in the same archive where Thomas hid the account information.”
Sloan looked at Caspian.
“What is at that house?”
Malcolm answered.
“The original paper records.”
Daniel stared at him.
“You knew?”
“I thought Evelyn burned them.”
Marianne shook her head.
“She didn't.”
Then she looked at Sloan.
“And somebody entered that house yesterday.”
Caspian's phone rang.
Elias.
Caspian answered.
Listened.
His face changed.
“What?”
He ended the call.
May you like
“The house is on fire.”
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