Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPHS
Celeste called me the next morning.
I almost declined.
Then answered.
“Evelyn?”
Her voice shook.
“Yes.”
“I need to speak to you before Julian does.”
Interesting.
“About the affair?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
At least she did not insult my intelligence.
We met in Margaret’s office.
My divorce attorney, Rachel Kim, sat beside me.
Celeste arrived alone until Rachel insisted she obtain counsel before discussing business matters.
Two hours later, we reconvened.
Celeste looked exhausted.
“The relationship started fourteen months ago.”
I felt pain.
Not surprise.
Pain can arrive even after certainty.
“Did you know he was married?”
“Yes.”
No excuses.
Good.
“What did he tell you about me?”
“That your marriage was over.”
Classic.
“That you stayed together because of your father.”
I almost laughed.
My father adored Julian until the final year of his life.
Apparently there were things Dad had stopped telling me.
Then I asked:
“The waterfront house?”
Celeste closed her eyes.
“Julian said the eighteen million was his marital share of the inheritance.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“What about JCM?”
Her lawyer shifted.
Celeste answered carefully.
“It was supposed to hold real-estate investments.”
“With you?”
“Yes.”
“And company money?”
Her face changed.
“What company money?”
That surprised me.
I showed her the purchase application.
Eight-million-dollar Vantage Meridian distribution.
Celeste stared.
“I’ve never seen this page.”
Maybe true.
Then:
“Julian told me he was selling a private investment.”
Rachel asked:
“What investment?”
“A company called Northstar Capital.”
Marcus, who had joined remotely, interrupted.
“Julian doesn’t own Northstar.”
Celeste went pale.
“Then who does?”
Marcus answered:
“Vantage Meridian does.”
There it was.
Julian had apparently described corporate assets as personal assets.
Then Celeste handed over something she had brought.
Text messages.
Julian:
Evelyn’s father is almost gone. Once the trust releases, we’re free.
I stopped breathing.
Dad had been in hospice when Julian wrote it.
Another message:
Eighteen clears Scottsdale, then everything else becomes easy.
Not:
Eighteen buys our dream house.
Eighteen clears Scottsdale.
Celeste stared at me.
“He told me the development was profitable.”
Marcus almost laughed.
“It’s underwater by at least twelve million.”
Then we found the next message.
Celeste:
Does Evelyn know?
Julian:
She doesn’t understand finance beyond her father’s trust.
I actually laughed.
Rachel looked at me.
“You okay?”
“No.”
But the line was funny.
My father had made me trustee of two charitable foundations at twenty-nine.
I had spent twelve years reviewing investment reports.
Julian knew that.
He had simply decided my trust in him meant ignorance.
Then Celeste showed us the last message.
Julian:
Once the money lands, I’ll transfer your five.
I looked up.
“Five what?”
Celeste swallowed.
“Five million.”
“For?”
“He said it was my return from Scottsdale.”
Marcus went completely still.
“You invested in Scottsdale?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Two million.”
Marcus stared at the screen.
“There is no Celeste Morgan investment on the project cap table.”
Silence.
Celeste had given Julian two million dollars personally.
He had never put it into the project.
Then where had her money gone?
Marcus traced the transfer.
Two million entered a Julian-controlled account.
Forty-eight hours later, $1.7 million went elsewhere.
Recipient:
Patricia Mercer.
May you like
Julian’s mother.
My mother-in-law had received most of Celeste’s supposedly invested money.
