Chapter 8 - WALTER’S LEDGER
Walter Hayes looked genuinely terrified.
“I don’t have any financial records.”
Dominic studied him.
“I believe you.”
Margaret didn’t.
“Think.”
“I am thinking.”
“You kept everything Elena gave you.”
“Gardening records.”
“Receipts.”
“Seed invoices.”
“Walter.”
He slammed his palm against the table.
“I said I don’t have it.”
The room went silent.
Walter rarely raised his voice.
He looked ashamed immediately.
“I’m sorry.”
Dominic pulled out a chair.
“Sit down.”
Walter did.
Evelyn poured him water.
Anna crouched beside him.
“You don’t have to remember on command.”
Walter gave her a grateful look.
“You sound like your mother.”
Anna smiled faintly.
“Which one?”
Walter thought.
“Both, probably.”
That helped.
His shoulders relaxed.
Then he looked toward the greenhouse.
“My retirement box.”
Dominic frowned.
“The boxes Camille packed?”
“No. Another one.”
He explained.
Every ten years, Walter cleared old gardening invoices from the greenhouse office.
Anything related personally to Elena went into a wooden trunk.
Not because the papers mattered.
Because Walter couldn’t bring himself to throw away anything carrying her handwriting.
They walked to the greenhouse together.
Camille followed several steps behind.
Nobody had asked her to stay.
Nobody had asked her to leave.
The wooden trunk sat beneath a workbench.
Walter opened it.
Seed catalogs.
Christmas cards.
Receipts.
Photographs of trees.
A cracked pair of Elena’s gardening gloves.
Anna held one gently.
“These were hers?”
“Yes.”
“They’re tiny.”
“She was five foot three and terrifying.”
Anna laughed.
Dominic did too.
They searched for nearly an hour.
Nothing.
Camille finally knelt beside the trunk.
Walter looked at her.
She paused.
“May I?”
He nodded.
She removed the papers carefully.
At the bottom was a green leather gardening journal.
Camille opened it.
Empty.
Almost.
The back cover felt unusually thick.
She pressed it.
A packet of folded carbon-paper copies slid out.
Walter stared.
“I never knew.”
The first page carried Edward Prescott’s letterhead.
PRIVATE ACCOUNTING SUMMARY — ANNA E. MORETTI
Anna sat down on an overturned bucket.
Dominic read.
A custodial account had been opened in September 1998.
Not by Anthony.
By Elena.
Funded with shares from property Elena had inherited from her mother.
The account was to transfer to Anna at eighteen.
Estimated original value:
$430,000.
Camille exhaled.
“That would be worth millions now.”
Anna’s expression hardened.
“I still don’t care.”
Dominic turned the page.
The account had been closed in March 1999.
Six weeks after Elena died.
Assets transferred.
Recipient:
Moretti Family Holdings.
Authorized by:
Anthony Moretti.
Anna stared at Dominic.
“So he took it.”
“Yes.”
Margaret sank onto a chair.
“I didn’t know.”
Dominic kept reading.
Then something changed.
“Wait.”
Another transaction occurred in 2001.
Equivalent assets had been moved again.
Into a separate investment account.
Beneficiary:
Anna Ellis.
Established by:
Edward Prescott.
Camille looked confused.
“My father put it back?”
“Most of it.”
Dominic scanned the totals.
“Not all.”
“What happened to the rest?”
Walter turned over another page.
There was a handwritten note from Edward.
A.M. directed $80,000 retained for Rose Ellis household expenses and education. Remaining balance restored after dispute with Anthony.
Anna stared.
“So Camille’s father fought him.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“That sounds like Edward.”
Camille laughed bitterly.
“You’ve spent thirty years describing Dad as selfish.”
“He was selfish.”
Margaret looked at her daughter.
“People can be more than one thing.”
That sentence landed on all of them.
Especially Camille.
Dominic continued reading.
The final accounting page showed the account still existed.
Dormant.
Untouched.
Worth far more than anyone expected.
Anna shook her head.
“No.”
Dominic looked up.
“What?”
“I don’t want it.”
“It’s yours.”
“I came for a name. Not money.”
“And you got the name.”
“I don’t want everyone believing I showed up because there was an inheritance.”
Dominic folded the ledger.
“Then they can believe whatever they want.”
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand exactly.”
“No, you grew up Moretti.”
His face changed.
Anna immediately regretted it.
Dominic placed the ledger down.
“You’re right.”
She looked at him.
“I grew up with the name. You grew up with the consequences of people hiding it from you.”
Anna softened.
“What am I supposed to do with millions of dollars?”
“That’s your problem.”
She blinked.
Then Dominic smiled faintly.
“A nice problem.”
Anna laughed despite herself.
Camille watched them.
Something in her face broke.
Not jealousy.
Grief.
For what she had nearly destroyed.
She turned to Walter.
“I owe you something.”
He looked at her.
“An apology?”
“Yes.”
“Then give me one.”
Camille swallowed.
“I fired you because I thought if you dug up that box, Dominic would learn my mother had helped hide Anna. I told myself I was protecting my mother from public humiliation.”
Walter said nothing.
Camille continued.
“But I also knew what it could do to my wedding.”
There it was.
The ugly part.
She did not soften it.
“I wanted the life I’d spent years building. And when you became a threat to it, I treated forty-one years of your loyalty like it meant nothing.”
Walter’s eyes watered.
“I’m sorry.”
Camille looked down.
“I was cruel to you.”
“Yes.”
She accepted it.
“I was.”
Walter studied her for a long moment.
“I forgive the apology.”
Camille looked confused.
“Not the action?”
“Not yet.”
She nodded.
“That’s fair.”
Dominic watched.
Perhaps, for the first time in days, he could see the woman he had once intended to marry beneath the fear and manipulation.
But seeing her did not repair what she had done.
Not yet.
Evelyn found one final paper caught inside the journal.
It was not financial.
It was a note from Edward Prescott to Walter.
Dated 2018.
Walter read aloud.
Mr. Hayes, if anyone starts asking about Elena’s rose, do not let it be removed until Dominic sees what is underneath. Margaret cannot carry this forever. Camille must never be asked to carry it for her.
Camille covered her mouth.
Her father had known.
He had tried, indirectly, to stop exactly what happened.
There was another line.
Walter continued.
And if Camille becomes involved, tell her this: protecting your parent’s lie does not make it your duty. It only makes the lie younger.
Camille began crying.
Margaret reached toward her.
Camille stepped back.
“Don’t.”
Margaret froze.
Camille looked at her mother.
“You made me believe telling Dominic would destroy you.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
“I know.”
“No. You used my fear because you didn’t want to face yours.”
Margaret’s face crumpled.
Camille wiped her cheeks.
“I fired a good man because I thought your shame was my responsibility.”
Margaret whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Camille shook her head.
“Not yet.”
Then Anna noticed writing on the reverse side of Edward’s note.
“One more thing.”
Walter turned it over.
A short message.
Anthony’s copy of Elena’s final letter was never destroyed.
Dominic stiffened.
Below it:
It remains where he put it the night he came home from her funeral.
Walter looked confused.
Dominic didn’t.
He slowly turned toward the mansion.
Evelyn saw recognition in his face.
“Where?”
Dominic answered.
May you like
“My father’s coat.”
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