Chapter 4 - The Secret Ryan Brought With Him
Ryan recovered first.
He always did.
It had once been one of the things Clare admired about him.
A waiter could spill wine across his suit five minutes before an important dinner and Ryan would somehow become calmer.
A flight could be canceled, a client could scream, the market could drop three hundred points and Ryan would immediately begin rearranging reality into something manageable.
Apparently finding his former fiancée standing barefoot outside a stranger's coastal house required only six seconds.
He adjusted his cuff.
“What are you doing here?”
Clare almost laughed.
“You asked that already.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I. Why are you carrying a Blackwell Development folder?”
Ryan glanced at Alexander.
“This isn't the place.”
Alexander folded his arms.
“Interesting, considering it's my place.”
Ryan looked him over.
Recognition appeared.
“Alexander Hayes.”
“Unfortunately.”
Ryan's professional smile returned.
“Ryan Parker. Wallace, Parker and Dean.”
“Blackwell's attorneys.”
“Yes.”
Alexander's expression became colder.
Clare looked between them.
Ryan took a breath.
“Clare, can we talk privately?”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“This has nothing to do with us.”
“Then you can say it in front of him.”
Ryan's jaw tightened at the word him.
That tiny reaction gave Clare an unexpected spark of satisfaction.
Ryan lowered his voice.
“Blackwell retained our firm regarding acquisition of this property.”
“I gathered that.”
“I had no idea you were here.”
“I had no idea you were coming.”
“I texted you.”
“You text me every day.”
Alexander glanced at her.
Clare wished he hadn't.
Ryan caught it.
Something subtle sharpened in his face.
“Can we have five minutes?”
“No,” Alexander said.
Ryan turned.
“I wasn't asking you.”
“You're standing on my property.”
“And I'm here on legal business.”
“Then conduct it with my attorney.”
“I'd be happy to.”
“Good.”
Alexander walked toward the house.
Ryan called after him.
“Grant Hayes intends to file for an emergency injunction this afternoon.”
Alexander stopped.
Clare looked at Ryan.
“On what basis?”
“Fraudulent acquisition.”
Alexander turned slowly.
Ryan continued.
“He alleges the 2015 transfer of his father's interest was executed while Thomas Hayes lacked capacity.”
“You're eleven years late.”
“Grant recently obtained medical records that he claims support his position.”
“Claims.”
“That's what courts are for.”
Alexander walked back down the steps.
“And Blackwell conveniently made him an offer right before he suddenly became interested in Dad's medication?”
Ryan's expression didn't change.
“My client is not responsible for Mr. Hayes's family dispute.”
“You're funding it.”
“I didn't say that.”
“You didn't need to.”
Clare knew Ryan's face.
Seven years had taught her every version.
The smile he used with clients.
The tight jaw when he was angry.
The narrowed eyes when he was calculating.
And the nearly invisible stillness that meant someone had moved too close to the truth.
Alexander had.
“Ryan,” Clare said. “Is Blackwell paying Grant's legal fees?”
Ryan looked at her.
“This isn't your matter.”
“That means yes.”
“That means you're not involved.”
“Funny. Somebody used an eleven-year-old management account to send me into this house last night, then broke in and stole the original deed.”
For the first time, Ryan genuinely looked surprised.
“What?”
Alexander watched him carefully.
“You didn't know?”
“No.”
Ryan looked at Clare.
“You were here during a break-in?”
“Don't sound concerned now. It's disorienting.”
“Clare.”
“You lost the right.”
Pain crossed his face.
She hated that some part of her still recognized it.
Ryan lowered the folder.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone hurt you?”
“No.”
“Then come back to Boston.”
Alexander looked away.
Clare saw it.
Something tightened inside her.
“I'm not coming back with you.”
“You don't have to come with me. Just leave here.”
“Why?”
Ryan hesitated.
Too long.
Clare's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“Because you don't know what you're standing in the middle of.”
“Then explain it.”
Ryan looked at Alexander.
“No.”
Alexander laughed without humor.
“There it is.”
Ryan stepped closer to Clare.
“Ask him about Lydia Mercer.”
The name hit Alexander like a physical blow.
Clare saw it.
His face emptied.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
Ryan continued.
“Ask him why she died.”
“Ryan.”
Alexander's voice was quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
“Stop.”
Clare looked between them.
“Who's Lydia Mercer?”
Ryan's eyes never left Alexander.
“His fiancée.”
The word shocked Clare more than she expected.
“Former fiancée,” Ryan added. “She died eight years ago.”
“Enough.”
“Her body washed up two miles south of this house after going overboard from his boat.”
Clare stared at Alexander.
Ryan's voice remained controlled.
“There were witnesses who said they fought at the harbor that night.”
Alexander walked toward Ryan.
Clare moved between them.
“Stop. Both of you.”
Ryan handed her his phone.
An old news article filled the screen.
LOCAL WOMAN DEAD AFTER LATE-NIGHT BOATING ACCIDENT.
Alexander Hayes had been questioned.
Alcohol had been found aboard.
No charges were ultimately filed.
Clare looked up.
“Is this true?”
Alexander's eyes were on Ryan.
“Parts of it.”
“What parts?”
“Clare,” Ryan said, “you don't know him.”
She turned on him.
“And whose fault is it that I no longer trust the man I did know?”
That landed.
Ryan looked away.
Clare handed back his phone.
“You should leave.”
“We need to talk.”
“About the property?”
“About us.”
“There is no us.”
“Seven years don't disappear.”
“No. They don't. That's why I remember every second of walking into our bedroom.”
Ryan's face tightened.
Alexander looked toward the sea, giving them privacy Clare hadn't asked for.
Ryan whispered, “I made one unforgivable mistake.”
“It wasn't one mistake.”
“It was one night.”
“It was lying about where you were. Turning your phone off. Bringing her into our home. Taking off your clothes. Getting into our bed. Then telling me I was throwing away seven years because I couldn't forgive you quickly enough.”
Ryan stared at her.
Clare's voice shook, but she didn't lower it.
“That is a series of choices.”
Ryan swallowed.
“I love you.”
“No. You miss access to me.”
His face went white.
Clare stepped back.
“Go do your job, Ryan.”
He looked at Alexander.
Then at Clare.
“I hope you know what you're doing.”
“For the first time in months, I don't care.”
Ryan drove away.
The silence he left behind was enormous.
Alexander walked toward the house.
Clare followed.
“Are you going to tell me?”
“No.”
She stopped.
“Fine.”
He stopped too.
“Fine?”
“I've known you less than a day. You don't owe me the story of your dead fiancée.”
He turned.
“But don't lie to me.”
His eyes met hers.
“I won't.”
“Did you cause her death?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Clare believed him.
That frightened her almost as much as everything else.
“Did you fight that night?”
“Yes.”
“Was there alcohol on the boat?”
“Yes.”
“Were you operating it?”
Alexander looked away.
And there it was.
The hesitation.
“Alexander.”
He walked into the study.
Clare followed.
He pulled books from a shelf until he found an old security recorder hidden behind them.
“What are you doing?”
“I installed cameras after someone vandalized the property line last year.”
“You didn't mention cameras?”
“They're exterior only.”
He connected the recorder to his laptop.
Several camera feeds appeared.
Alexander rewound to the previous night.
The storm reduced everything to gray distortion.
At 1:42 a.m., headlights appeared at the far edge of the road.
A black SUV stopped beyond the gate.
Clare leaned closer.
A man stepped out.
White shirt.
Dark trousers.
Even through rain, she recognized the posture.
“No.”
Alexander paused the footage.
Ryan.
Clare's throat tightened.
“That was hours before he arrived this morning.”
Alexander said nothing.
On screen, Ryan didn't approach the front door.
He walked toward the north side of the property.
Five minutes later, another figure appeared.
Grant.
The men met near the fence.
Ryan handed him something.
Grant put it inside his coat.
They spoke for several minutes.
Then Ryan returned to the SUV.
Grant remained.
At 1:58 a.m., the camera feed went black.
Exactly when the generator cable had been cut.
Clare felt sick.
“He lied.”
Alexander's jaw tightened.
The video returned briefly on a backup battery.
Grant appeared near the study window.
Then vanished from frame.
Clare stared at the screen.
Ryan had claimed he knew nothing about the break-in.
Maybe he hadn't entered the house.
But he had been there.
Before Clare knew he was anywhere near Maine.
Before Grant stole the deed.
Alexander reached for his phone.
“I'm sending this to Morales.”
Clare barely heard him.
Because something else had appeared on the screen.
At the far left edge of the restored image, Ryan's SUV stopped again.
The driver's door opened.
Ryan got out.
And instead of leaving, he turned back toward the house.
Toward the broken study window.
Toward Grant.
The final frame froze with Ryan disappearing into the rain.
Clare felt cold all over.
May you like
Her ex-fiancé hadn't simply known about the break-in.
He had been there while it happened.
