Chapter 7 - THE EMAIL THAT BROUGHT HIM TO ME
Vincent had not attended the gala because of his mother.
Not entirely.
He had attended because someone using my email had threatened him.
I stared at the message.
“What did it say?”
He handed me his phone.
The email contained one sentence.
I KNOW WHO KILLED ROSE HARTWELL. COME TO THE HUDSON GALA ALONE IF YOU WANT THE TRUTH.
My stomach tightened.
“You thought I sent this.”
“Yes.”
“And you still shared a sandwich with me?”
“I was evaluating you.”
I stared.
“You flirted.”
“That was separate.”
My face heated.
Marco smiled.
I ignored him.
“Why didn’t you confront me?”
“You clearly had no idea who I was.”
“So?”
“So either you were the greatest actress I’d ever met, or someone was using you.”
“Which did you decide?”
Vincent looked at me.
“The second.”
Something warm moved through my chest.
Unhelpful.
We returned to my apartment with security.
Nothing was stolen.
That made it worse.
Daniel had entered purely to prove he could.
My laptop showed no obvious breach.
Marco’s cyber team found remote access dating back eight months.
Eight months.
Someone had watched my files.
Emails.
Calendar.
Possibly camera.
I felt violated.
Vincent noticed.
“Stay at my estate.”
“No.”
“Evelyn.”
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“Someone has been inside your digital life for eight months.”
“I know.”
“They entered your apartment.”
“I know.”
“I can protect you.”
The words came out differently this time.
Not as an order.
An offer.
I looked at him.
“Temporarily.”
“Yes.”
“Separate room.”
His mouth curved.
“Obviously.”
That word again.
We drove to Lake Forest.
The Marino estate looked like a stone fortress disguised as wealth.
Beautiful.
Severe.
Too many cameras.
Vincent gave me a guest suite overlooking the lake.
Then disappeared into a security meeting.
For the first time all day, I was alone.
I opened my suitcase.
Inside was a white envelope.
I froze.
I had packed the bag myself.
The envelope had not been there.
My name.
Handwritten.
EVELYN.
I opened it.
A photograph.
Rose.
My grandmother.
Young.
Standing beside Raffaele Marino.
Vincent’s father.
They were holding hands.
My heart stopped.
On the back:
WE LOVED EACH OTHER BEFORE OUR CHILDREN WERE BORN.
I sat down.
No.
Rose and Raffaele.
My grandmother.
Vincent’s father.
Impossible.
A second note fell out.
ASK VINCENT WHY HIS FATHER KEPT ROSE’S LETTERS.
I went downstairs.
Vincent was in his office.
Alone.
I dropped the photograph on his desk.
His face changed.
“Where did you get this?”
“My suitcase.”
He stared.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Evelyn—”
“How long?”
“My entire life.”
“You knew our families were connected.”
“I knew Rose and my father had a relationship before they married other people.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I didn’t know if it mattered.”
“It matters to me.”
He stood.
“You’re right.”
That stopped me.
No defense.
No manipulation.
Just right.
He opened a locked drawer.
Inside were letters.
Dozens.
Rose to Raffaele.
Raffaele to Rose.
I stared.
“My grandmother wrote him.”
“Yes.”
Vincent handed me one.
I read.
Raffaele, Samuel is becoming dangerous. He believes Angelo’s money should remain ours. If anything happens to me, protect Margaret.
My chest tightened.
My mother.
Another letter.
Do not trust Daniel Bell. He has been asking about the locket.
Daniel.
Decades ago?
I frowned.
“How old is Daniel?”
“Sixty.”
“That tracks.”
Then I found another.
Different handwriting.
Raffaele.
Rose, I will protect Margaret as my own daughter if I must.
My throat tightened.
Maybe Raffaele had not killed her.
Maybe he tried to save her.
Then one final letter.
Sealed.
Never opened.
Addressed to:
MY SON, VINCENT.
I looked at him.
“You never opened this?”
His face became unreadable.
“My father told me not to until the Bell trust resurfaced.”
“Well.”
I held it out.
“Seems resurfaced.”
Vincent broke the seal.
He read silently.
Then went pale.
“What?”
He handed it to me.
I read the first sentence.
Vincent, Rose Hartwell’s granddaughter may one day be the only person who can stop Daniel Bell.
My heart pounded.
Then the next line.
If that happens, do not marry her.
I stared at Vincent.
“What?”
He kept reading.
His jaw tightened.
At the bottom, Raffaele had written:
May you like
Because if you marry Evelyn Hartwell, Daniel will not lose the fortune.
He will gain access to something far more dangerous.
