Part 13
Helena and Owen had been together near the table during the critical window.
“What were they doing?”
“I don’t know.”
The old impulse rose—to take the image, confront Helena, demand a clean answer before she could prepare one.
He handed the phone back.
“Send it to Daniel,” he said.
“I did.”
Adrian went to the kitchen and ate toast over the sink.
It was the first food he had swallowed since the gala began. Butter had hardened on one edge. He ate it anyway.
His mother used to stand in the same place during parties, hiding from guests with a plate balanced on one palm. He remembered her telling him that rich houses had too many rooms and nowhere to be alone. At the time, he thought it was funny.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Celia appeared.
My father has retained separate criminal counsel.
Adrian typed, Are you okay?
He deleted it.
He typed, Did he tell you why?
Deleted that too.
Finally he wrote, Thank you for telling me.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, returned.
She replied, I found something in his briefcase.
Adrian stared at the screen.
A photograph followed.
It showed a printed email from Owen to Thomas, dated two weeks earlier.
The subject line read: PROTECTIVE OPTIONS REGARDING VALE CONTROL.
The body was partly obscured by Thomas’s handwritten notes, but one sentence was visible:
If Charles proceeds with the announcement before correcting Helena’s governance maneuver, Adrian may lose any realistic path to independent control.
Adrian called Celia.
She answered but did not speak.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“At my parents’ house.”
“Does your father know you found it?”
“No.”
“What else is there?”
“Emails. Drafts. He and Owen were talking.”
“About stopping the engagement?”
“About stopping the transfer.”
“Why didn’t your father tell the police?”
“He says the communications are privileged strategy discussions.”
“Between him and Owen?”
“Owen told him Helena was planning to use the marriage agreement as a trigger. My father asked for proof.”
“And Owen sent documents.”
“Yes.”
“Did your father help alter the envelope?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
Celia was silent.
Adrian let the silence remain.
Eventually she said, “I believe he knew Owen planned to confront Charles publicly.”
The kitchen seemed colder.
“Did he know about the video?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he encourage it?”
“I don’t know.”
She began to cry then, but quietly. Adrian could hear the effort she made not to let the sound become speech.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“I spent all night furious that you doubted me.”
“You had a right.”
“And now I’m looking at messages my father hid because he thought he was protecting me.”
“That isn’t your fault.”
“It is still my family.”
Adrian leaned against the counter.
“Celia.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to ask you to defend him.”
She breathed in.
“Thank you.”
“Give the documents to your attorney.”
“I don’t have one.”
“Get one who doesn’t represent your father.”
“That sounds obvious now.”
“Most things do afterward.”
She gave a small, broken laugh.
Adrian closed his eyes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”
“You had a reason to ask.”
“That isn’t the same as how I asked.”
“No.”
“I saw you enter the cloakroom and treated uncertainty like permission.”
Celia was quiet again.
Then she said, “I took the document.”
Adrian opened his eyes.
The kitchen clock ticked once.
“What?”
“I took it from the wastebasket.”
His grip tightened around the phone.
“Why?”
“I saw the envelope after you accused Helena. The seal was broken. Papers were sticking out. I recognized the first page of the inheritance agreement.”
“Where is it?”
“I gave it to my father.”
Adrian could not speak.
Celia continued quickly. “I thought he needed to see whether the marriage language had been altered. I didn’t know the police would come. I didn’t know Owen had activated anything.”
“You told us you never saw it.”
“I panicked.”
“You looked at me and lied.”
“Yes.”
“Where is it now?”
“My father says he burned it.”
Adrian pushed away from the counter.
“No.”
“He says it was only a copy.”
“It was evidence.”
“I know.”
“Why would he burn it?”
“He says it could be used to imply I was involved.”
“You were involved.”
“I know.”
The words came apart in her mouth.
Adrian walked out of the kitchen without knowing where he was going. He ended up in the morning room, staring at the empty glass table.
“You let Helena take the blame,” he said.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
“After we were married?”
“That’s cruel.”
“You lied in front of the police.”
“I was scared.”
“So was Helena.”
“I know.”
“So was Owen, apparently. Everyone is scared. Does that excuse anything?”
“No.”
“Then stop saying it like it changes what you did.”
Celia’s breathing became uneven.
Adrian pressed his hand against the glass table. It was cool beneath his palm.
“Did you read the document?”
“Some of it.”
“What did it say?”
“It attached the transfer and described our engagement as a triggering event. There was also a memorandum.”
“What memorandum?”
“About you.”
His stomach dropped.
“What about me?”
“It said you were susceptible to financial influence and lacked sufficient experience to protect your beneficial interest.”
“Written by Helena?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last month.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
The room around him sharpened. The chairs, the empty silver tray, the faint circle where the envelope had rested.
“Send me every photo you took.”
“I didn’t take any.”
“You took a legal document and didn’t photograph it?”
“I was not thinking.”
“Did your father?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No.”
The honesty cut through his anger.
Adrian said, “You need to call Officer Ruiz.”
“I know.”
“Now.”
“My father says I should wait for counsel.”
“Do not let him turn you into another person who hides behind procedure until the truth becomes useless.”
May you like
“That is easy for you to say. You already spoke.”
“And I hurt people because I spoke without understanding. You hurt people because you understood enough to stay silent.”
