Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE BACK SEAT
“That woman is you.”
Nicholas held the security photograph in front of Celeste.
She stared at it.
Then she closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Claire felt the air leave her lungs.
Only minutes earlier, Celeste had stood in the rehabilitation center pretending to discover that her daughter was alive.
Now the evidence showed her sitting beside June that very morning.
“You knew,” Nicholas said.
Celeste's hands began shaking.
“I knew there was a little girl named June Bell. My father told me she might be connected to Gabriel.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
“He said Gabriel was dangerous. He said if I told anyone, June would be moved somewhere I'd never find her.”
Nicholas shook his head.
“So you helped take her.”
“I was supposed to accompany her to Harbor House. My father said Margaret wasn't safe anymore.”
Claire stepped forward.
“Did June want to leave?”
Celeste looked away.
“Answer her,” Nicholas said.
“No.”
The word barely escaped her mouth.
“She cried when they took her away from Margaret. I sat beside her and told her everything would be okay.”
Claire's voice tightened.
“You had a frightened eight-year-old in front of you, and you listened to a man who wouldn't even explain where she was going?”
Celeste wiped her cheeks.
“I thought if I followed his instructions, I could finally find out whether she was mine.”
Nicholas looked at the photograph again.
“What happened afterward?”
“We stopped at a private service entrance outside the city. Thomas told me the child was going to Harbor House and that my father needed me at the wedding.”
“You left her?”
“I didn't understand what was happening.”
“You understood enough to lie about it.”
Celeste lowered her head.
Nicholas turned toward Marcus.
“Preserve the footage. Every minute of it.”
He faced Celeste again.
“You're going to help us find June. But you're not going to decide what's best for her without telling the truth.”
Celeste nodded.
For the first time that day, she didn't argue.
They left St. Anne's shortly after nine.
Nicholas insisted that Claire's father receive independent protection at the rehabilitation center.
Claire protested immediately.
“Mr. Romano, my father doesn't need armed men outside his room.”
“He needs to be safe.”
“He also needs to feel like a patient, not a prisoner.”
Nicholas considered that.
Then he told Marcus to arrange discreet building security rather than stationing guards beside Daniel's bed.
Claire looked at him with surprise.
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
“Your father shouldn't lose his peace because of my family.”
They reached Charles Whitmore's Boston office just before ten.
Charles occupied the top floor of a restored brick building overlooking the harbor.
He was sixty-four, impeccably dressed, with silver hair and the same polished manner Nicholas had known since childhood.
His office contained expensive paintings, framed charity awards, and photographs of him shaking hands with governors and business leaders.
Charles rose when they entered.
“Nicholas. I heard there was a little disturbance at the wedding.”
“A disturbance?”
Charles looked at Celeste.
“Darling, you look exhausted.”
“Where is June?” she demanded.
The older man's smile faded.
“Perhaps we should discuss this privately.”
Nicholas stepped forward.
“We are.”
Charles glanced at Claire.
“I don't believe household staff need to participate in family financial matters.”
“Claire stays,” Nicholas replied.
Charles sat down.
“Very well.”
Nicholas placed the transfer authorization on his desk.
“Your foundation removed a child from her legal guardian using a forged statement.”
Charles barely glanced at it.
“An outside agency handled the placement.”
“The signature belongs to my housekeeper.”
“Then perhaps your housekeeper has more involvement than she's admitted.”
Nicholas leaned forward.
“You tried that accusation once today. It didn't work.”
Charles's jaw tightened.
Celeste approached the desk.
“Father, I sat beside June in that car.”
“I know.”
“She was crying.”
“The child was frightened. Children usually are during transitions.”
“Where did Thomas take her?”
Charles folded his hands.
“Somewhere safe.”
“Where?”
“I'll tell you when the family situation has been resolved.”
Nicholas understood immediately.
“You're bargaining with a child.”
Charles sighed.
“I'm trying to prevent a catastrophe.”
He opened a drawer and removed a financial report.
“The Romano family owns shipping terminals, warehouses, residential buildings, and commercial properties worth hundreds of millions. But much of that wealth is tied up.”
Nicholas looked at him.
“Get to the point.”
“A major lender has demanded additional collateral. Without restructuring, several businesses could collapse. Hundreds of people could lose their jobs.”
“What does June have to do with that?”
“Gabriel's inheritance was placed into a protected family trust after his disappearance. Your father established restrictions on its assets.”
Nicholas knew about the trust.
His father had insisted that Gabriel's share remain untouched until his disappearance was conclusively resolved.
Charles continued.
“Now that Gabriel has apparently returned, the restrictions become complicated. And if he has a living daughter, she may have a significant beneficial interest.”
Celeste stared at him.
“You knew about June.”
Charles didn't answer.
“You knew she was my baby.”
“I knew there were rumors.”
“You let me visit her grave!”
His expression tightened.
“I did what I believed was necessary to keep everyone safe.”
Celeste stepped backward.
Nicholas noticed the silver watch on Charles's wrist.
It was heavy, old-fashioned, and scratched near the clasp.
The same watch June had drawn.
“What do you want me to sign?” Nicholas asked.
Charles pushed the report toward him.
“A restructuring agreement. Temporary authority to consolidate certain assets before the lenders act.”
“And Eleanor?”
“She can no longer oversee the older trusts effectively.”
“That's why you wanted her declared incompetent.”
Charles's silence answered him.
Claire looked at the expensive paintings.
The awards.
The photographs.
The smiling man who spoke about helping vulnerable families while hiding a frightened child.
She thought about June drawing pictures for patients who couldn't leave their beds.
And she felt something harder than fear.
“Mr. Whitmore,” she said, “where did you send that little girl?”
Charles looked annoyed.
“Miss Dawson, your concern is touching, but unnecessary.”
“Then tell us where she is.”
“You should worry about your own family.”
He opened another folder.
Claire recognized the St. Anne's logo.
Her father's rehabilitation account was printed across the first page.
Charles tapped the document.
“Your father's treatment is partly covered by our charitable assistance program. These programs depend on continued financial stability.”
Claire's face drained.
Nicholas took the folder from Charles.
“Are you threatening to discontinue a stroke patient's care?”
“I'm explaining how finances work.”
“No,” Nicholas said. “You're explaining how you control people.”
He placed the folder back on the desk.
“Daniel Dawson's treatment will continue. I'll arrange an independent payment guarantee tomorrow, with no conditions attached to Claire's employment.”
Charles stood.
“You cannot simply override every financial reality because you're angry.”
Nicholas met his eyes.
“Watch me separate my employees' welfare from your leverage.”
For the first time, Charles lost his composure.
He struck the desk with his palm.
“You have no idea what Gabriel did eight years ago!”
“Then tell me.”
Charles fell silent.
Nicholas waited.
When no answer came, he turned toward the door.
“We're done talking.”
Celeste remained beside the desk.
“Father,” she whispered, “you don't get to decide whether I deserve to know my daughter.”
Charles looked almost saddened.
“I've spent years protecting you from this family's mistakes.”
“Then why am I the one paying for them?”
She followed Nicholas outside.
In the reception area, Claire noticed a small pink lunchbox beneath a chair.
A cartoon rabbit was printed on the lid.
A blue butterfly sticker covered one corner.
Claire stopped.
“That's June's.”
Celeste turned.
“How do you know?”
“She brought it to St. Anne's last week. She showed my father the sticker.”
Nicholas opened the lunchbox.
Inside were two crackers, a folded napkin, and a drawing.
On the napkin, a child's handwriting read:
Please tell Grandma I was good.
Celeste began crying.
Nicholas unfolded the drawing.
It showed a gray building beside dark water.
A clock tower stood behind it.
Near the building was a small red door.
And above the drawing, June had written three words:
I HEAR BELLS.
Marcus studied the picture.
“Boss, there's an old harbor maintenance property with a bell tower north of the city.”
Nicholas looked toward Charles's closed office door.
“Who owns it?”
Marcus checked his phone.
May you like
His expression darkened.
“The Romano Family Trust.”
