Chương 6
“She is still there,” he said. “Tessa’s with her.”
Eleanor led him into the breakfast room. It was less formal than the library and had no chair that belonged to Richard.
Noah opened the laptop.
Mercer House, the company he and Madison had announced two months earlier, was supposed to sell curated home goods and host luxury travel experiences. Noah had contributed money from a trust established by his grandparents. Madison had promised access to Bellweather for product shoots, retreats, and investor events.
“She said you approved all of it,” he said.
Eleanor scrolled through a presentation deck filled with photographs of Bellweather’s rooms. Her dining table appeared beneath the words HERITAGE LUXURY, REIMAGINED.
“Who took these?”
“Madison.”
“She did not ask.”
“I assumed she had.”
One page listed “exclusive East Coast estate access” among the company’s assets. Another described future accommodation suites in Bellweather’s carriage house.
“We use the carriage house for storage,” Eleanor said.
“She said renovation permits were pending.”
“They are not.”
Noah pressed his palms against his eyes. “I signed investor papers.”
“How much money?”
“Eight hundred thousand committed. Two hundred transferred.”
Eleanor sat back.
“How much of yours?”
“One hundred and fifty.”
“And the rest?”
“Two investors. Friends of my father.”
“Did they rely on the letter?”
“Yes.”
The word entered the room without decoration.
Noah opened an email chain. Madison had sent the letter from a private address labeled Blake Family Office. The signature line named a financial administrator Eleanor had never heard of.
Ruth joined them by video call. She asked Noah to forward the entire chain without altering it and to preserve his phone. She advised him not to contact the investors until he had his own attorney.
“I don’t need my own attorney,” Noah said.
Ruth’s expression remained neutral. “You are legally married to someone who may have made false representations in a transaction you signed. You need your own attorney.”
Noah looked at Eleanor.
“She is right,” Eleanor said.
“Did you know Madison was raising money?”
“No.”
“Did you know about the company?”
“I knew she was selling candles.”
“It’s more than candles.”
“I understand that now.”
He closed the laptop halfway, then opened it again. “She told me you refused to support it because you didn’t want her to succeed.”
“She sent me a box containing two candles and a typed note asking me to post them online.”
“What did you do?”
“I lit one.”
Noah looked at her.
“It smelled like burned oranges,” she said.
He laughed, then covered his mouth. The laugh became something else. His shoulders shook once.
Eleanor moved the tissue box closer without touching him.
“I married her yesterday,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I stood in front of everyone I know and promised—”
“I was there.”
He pulled a tissue free. “I’m sorry.”
“Stop apologizing to me.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Neither do I.”
Noah stared at the table. “Did she ever tell the truth?”
Eleanor considered lying to comfort him. The impulse surprised her.
“Yes,” she said. “Often. That is why the lies worked.”
The next morning, Madison arrived at Bellweather with a photographer.
Darnell stopped her at the gate.
She called Eleanor twelve times in six minutes.
On the thirteenth call, Eleanor answered.
“I’m here for my property,” Madison said.
“Your gifts and cake are being delivered to the hotel.”
“My clothes are in the east cottage.”
“Darnell will escort you.”
“I’m not entering my childhood home with a guard.”
“You are not entering the main house.”
“You changed the code.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t lock me out.”
“I can.”
Madison lowered her voice. “There are reporters outside the hotel. I need somewhere private.”
“Then send the photographer away.”
A pause.
“How do you know?”
“Darnell has eyes.”
“She is documenting the retrieval in case you claim I stole something.”
“Your clothes do not require editorial coverage.”
Madison said nothing.
Eleanor looked through the study window toward the distant gate. Madison’s white rental SUV waited beside a flowering hedge. A woman in black stood near the passenger door with a camera bag.
“Send her away,” Eleanor repeated. “You may come to the east cottage with Darnell. You have thirty minutes.”
“You love this.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“No,” she said. “That is the problem.”
The photographer left.
Madison entered the estate in the SUV, driving too quickly over the gravel. She parked outside the east cottage and got out wearing oversized sunglasses, a cream sweater, and black leggings. Without the gown and makeup, she looked smaller. The wedding ring on her left hand flashed in the sunlight.
Eleanor waited on the cottage porch with Darnell.
“You didn’t have to come,” Madison said.
“I did.”
“Afraid I’ll take the furniture?”
“The furniture belongs to the estate.”
Madison gave a short laugh. “Of course it does.”
Inside, the cottage smelled closed and dusty. Madison had last slept there at Christmas two years earlier. Her old room still contained college books, a curling iron with a frayed cord, three formal dresses, and a cardboard box labeled MADISON—SCHOOL.
She pulled a suitcase from the closet.
Darnell remained near the front door, far enough away not to hear every word.
Madison folded clothes with quick, sharp movements. “Noah won’t answer me.”
“He came here.”
Her hands stopped.
“When?”
“Last night.”
“What did he tell you?”
“Enough.”
“He had no right.”
“He is involved.”
“He doesn’t understand the business.”
“Neither do I, apparently.”
Madison shoved a sweater into the suitcase. “It was not a guarantee.”
“The letter used my signature.”
“It referenced your support.”
“I did not support it.”
“Dad would have.”
“Your father is dead.”
Madison flinched.
Eleanor regretted the sentence as soon as it left her mouth, but apology would have sounded like retreat.
Madison turned toward the window. “You always say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like his death settled every argument in your favor.”
“That is not what I mean.”
May you like
“It is what you do.”
“You used a dead company’s letterhead and copied my signature.”
