Part 8
Celia spoke from near the lamp.
“The second draft was not written by Gideon.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Gideon’s eyes sharpened.
“Maren,” he said, “don’t listen to—”
“No,” Celia interrupted.
The word was quiet.
It changed the room anyway.
“No more.”
Gideon stood slowly, careful not to move Maren’s head too quickly. He kept one hand beneath her shoulder as he rose, then repositioned himself so that she remained supported against his leg.
“What are you saying?” he asked.
Celia’s throat moved.
“I’m saying the draft you saw was not the only draft.”
“We know that,” Maren said.
“No. You don’t.”
Celia looked at the open double doors, then at the black folder on the table.
“There was another version.”
Julian’s face went rigid.
Gideon’s voice turned cold. “Celia.”
“I found it after Julian told me about the first one.”
Julian stared at her. “You told him?”
“No.”
“You told her?”
Celia looked at him.
“You left it in the drawer behind the bar.”
Julian went still.
Maren felt the floor shift beneath her, though she had not moved.
“What did it say?” she asked.
Celia did not answer immediately.
That delay was enough to bring heat into Gideon’s face.
“Celia,” he said, “you are not going to do this here.”
“Where would you prefer? In your office? Behind another closed door?”
“What did it say?” Maren repeated.
Celia’s eyes came back to her.
“It named Julian as the person who would speak for you.”
Julian’s breath caught.
Maren looked at him.
He did not deny it.
“It was unsigned,” he said.
“Was it?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you write it?”
“No.”
“Did you agree to it?”
“No.”
“Did you know it existed?”
Julian’s eyes closed.
“Yes.”
The word landed with more force than shouting would have.
Maren stared at him.
Gideon took a step toward Julian.
Julian looked at him with something like hatred.
“Don’t,” he said.
Gideon stopped.
Celia continued, though her voice had begun to tremble.
“I found it in the desk. I confronted Gideon. He told me it was a discussion draft, that he would never use it. He said Julian had refused to sign.”
“I did refuse,” Julian said.
“You refused after you helped write the notes.”
“I know.”
“You refused after you told Gideon she was afraid.”
“I know.”
“You refused after you let him believe he could make a plan for her life and call it protection.”
“I know.”
Julian’s voice broke on the last word.
Maren could not stop looking at him.
The man she had married knew how she liked her coffee and how to calm her after nightmares and which songs made her leave a room because they reminded her of things she did not want to explain. He knew the scar on the inside of her wrist from a childhood accident she barely remembered. He knew the exact way her shoulders changed when she was trying not to cry.
He had known all of that.
And he had used some of it as evidence against her.
“I didn’t write it,” he said to her.
“You helped make it possible.”
“Yes.”
“I trusted you.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Nothing would be better.”
Julian flinched.
Celia stepped forward, her hands shaking now.
“There is more,” she said.
Gideon’s face darkened. “No.”
Maren looked at him.
“No what?”
Gideon’s expression was suddenly unreadable.
Celia took a breath.
“The second draft had a date.”
Julian said, “Celia.”
“It was written after Maren told you she wanted to leave the house.”
Maren’s body went cold.
She had said that only once.
Not to Gideon.
Not to Celia.
She had said it to Julian late at night, sitting on the edge of the bed with both feet on the floor because she could not stand the thought of lying down. She had told him she wanted to walk away from the mansion, the trust, the family name, every room that made her feel twelve years old again.
Julian had held her hand.
He had said, “We’ll figure it out.”
Maren looked at him.
His face told her before he spoke.
“I told him after,” he said.
“After what?”
“After you said you were leaving.”
“I know that.”
“I told him because I thought he might try to stop you.”
“You thought?”
“I wanted him to hear it from me before he heard it from anyone else.”
“Anyone else?”
Julian shook his head.
“I don’t know. I was scared.”
Maren laughed, but the sound came out jagged.
“You were scared.”
“Yes.”
“So you handed him the one thing I trusted you with.”
“I thought I could control what he did with it.”
Gideon looked at Julian with open contempt.
May you like
“You thought you could control me?”
“No,” Julian said. “I thought I could keep you from doing something worse.”
