Chapter 4 - THE PHOTOGRAPH I WAS NEVER MEANT TO SEE|
The moment Daniel mentioned my old neighborhood, I felt something inside me turn cold.
"What neighborhood?"
He glanced toward Maxwell.
"East Harlem."
I stared at him.
"How do you know I lived there?"
Daniel didn't answer.
Maxwell looked equally confused.
"Daniel, explain."
The SUV continued through the snow-covered streets while Daniel opened a secure folder on his tablet.
"Six years ago, Isabelle Bennett was investigating financial transactions connected to a community housing organization."
My heart beat faster.
"Which organization?"
"The East River Family Initiative."
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
I knew that name.
I knew the building.
And I knew exactly what had happened there.
"I worked for them."
Maxwell turned toward me.
"What?"
"Before Bennett Holdings."
My voice sounded strange.
"I was their night receptionist."
Daniel nodded grimly.
"That's what our records show."
I felt a sudden flash of anger.
"Your records?"
Maxwell looked at Daniel.
"Why do you have records on Katherine?"
"Because Victor ordered background checks on everyone with access to the executive floor."
"Without telling me?"
Daniel lowered the tablet.
"He claimed it was standard procedure."
Maxwell's expression darkened.
"Nothing about this is standard."
I looked out the window.
Six years earlier, the East River Family Initiative had operated a small community center offering housing assistance to struggling families.
I worked nights answering telephones and organizing paperwork.
Back then, I was married to a man named Thomas Parker.
He was an accountant.
He was patient, gentle, and always brought home flowers from the grocery store when money was tight.
We weren't wealthy.
But we were happy.
Until the night everything changed.
"Thomas worked there too," I whispered.
Maxwell studied me.
"Your husband?"
I nodded.
"He's dead."
Lily squeezed my hand.
She knew that part of our story.
But not everything.
"He died when she was four."
Maxwell's gaze softened.
"I'm sorry."
I shook my head.
"That's not the strange part."
Daniel waited.
"Thomas died three days after the community center burned down."
The SUV seemed to grow smaller around us.
Maxwell leaned forward.
"What kind of fire?"
"An electrical fire, according to the report."
Daniel's face tightened.
"Was anyone hurt?"
"Two people died."
I swallowed.
"One of them was the building's records manager."
Maxwell stared at me.
"And Thomas?"
"He was found in his car near the Hudson River."
"Cause of death?"
I hesitated.
"Police ruled it an accident."
Maxwell closed his eyes.
Another accident.
Another person who handled financial records.
Another grieving family told that terrible things sometimes happened without explanation.
Daniel opened another document.
"Max, you need to see this."
He handed the tablet to Maxwell.
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed Isabelle Bennett standing outside the East River community center.
Beside her was Thomas.
My Thomas.
I reached for the tablet.
"Where did you get that?"
"It's from an archived investigation file."
I stared at the image.
Thomas wore the blue tie I'd given him for our anniversary.
His arm was raised against the sun.
He was smiling.
I remembered that day.
He had told me he was meeting a woman who wanted to help the organization secure funding.
He'd seemed hopeful.
Excited, even.
That evening, he'd come home unusually quiet.
When I asked what was wrong, he'd kissed my forehead and said something I hadn't understood.
"Sometimes the safest thing we can do is tell the truth."
Three days later, the building burned.
Six days later, Thomas was dead.
I covered my mouth.
"No."
Maxwell gently took the tablet from my shaking hands.
"Katherine."
"No."
I shook my head harder.
"Thomas wasn't involved in anything criminal."
"I don't think he was."
"You don't understand."
My eyes filled.
"He was a good man."
Maxwell's voice softened.
"Then we need to find out what happened to him."
For a moment, I wanted to believe him.
Then I remembered who he was.
"Your organization was involved, wasn't it?"
Maxwell didn't answer immediately.
"Some of my companies financed community development projects."
"Did they finance East River?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"Because six years ago, I trusted people to manage those accounts."
"People like Victor."
He nodded.
I felt sick.
All those years, I'd worked inside Maxwell's building without knowing there might be a connection between his empire and my husband's death.
And he'd quietly paid for Lily's education.
The coincidence suddenly seemed unbearable.
"Did you know about Thomas when you hired me?"
Maxwell looked directly into my eyes.
"No."
"Did you know I was his wife?"
"No."
"Then why did you help Lily?"
He looked at her.
"Because she deserves every opportunity she can get."
I wanted to be angry.
But something in his expression was painfully sincere.
Elena's voice came from the front seat.
"We're approaching the safe house."
The SUV entered a quiet residential street lined with old brownstones.
A wrought-iron gate opened ahead of us.
We drove into a private courtyard behind a large brick townhouse.
Daniel checked the street before opening our door.
Maxwell stepped outside first.
The snow had begun falling harder.
Lily looked up at him.
"Mr. Bennett?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Are we going to live here?"
"Only until we're certain you're safe."
She hesitated.
"Will Mom still have her job?"
I wanted to cry.
Even now, my daughter was worrying about our rent.
Maxwell bent down.
"Your mother will never lose her job because you helped me."
Then he paused.
"Actually, I think she deserves a better one."
I gave him a warning look.
"Don't start."
For the first time that night, he almost smiled.
Inside, the townhouse was warm and beautifully furnished.
A woman named Rosa welcomed us with blankets and hot chocolate.
She had been Maxwell's housekeeper for more than twenty years.
When she saw Lily's frightened expression, she immediately brought out a plate of homemade cookies.
"Chocolate chip or oatmeal?"
"Chocolate chip," Lily whispered.
"Excellent choice."
Rosa led Lily toward a sitting room.
Maxwell turned to Daniel.
"I want every original document related to Isabelle's investigation."
"Some files disappeared after her death."
"Then find out who removed them."
Daniel nodded.
"And the East River records?"
"Everything."
I stepped forward.
"I want to help."
Maxwell shook his head.
"Katherine, you've been through enough."
"My husband died because of something he knew."
"We don't know that yet."
"Then let me help you find out."
He studied me for a long moment.
Finally, he nodded.
"All right."
Daniel's phone rang.
He answered and listened.
His expression changed.
"What?"
Maxwell looked up.
Daniel moved away from Lily before speaking again.
"Are you certain?"
He ended the call.
"Max, someone broke into the old East River storage facility tonight."
My blood ran cold.
"Why?"
"They didn't steal money or equipment."
"What did they take?"
Daniel glanced toward me.
"Archived employee records."
Maxwell's jaw tightened.
"Whose?"
Daniel looked at the screen.
"Thomas Parker's."
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
For six years, I'd believed my husband died because of a terrible accident.
Now someone was destroying the last traces of his life.
Maxwell took my hand.
"We're going to find the truth."
Before I could respond, Rosa called from the sitting room.
"Mr. Bennett?"
There was alarm in her voice.
We hurried toward her.
Lily stood beside the fireplace, staring at an old framed photograph.
Her face was pale.
"Mom," she whispered.
I knelt beside her.
"What is it?"
She pointed toward the picture.
A group of people stood outside a waterfront restaurant.
Maxwell was among them.
So was Isabelle.
And standing behind Isabelle, smiling at the camera, was Victor Kane.
But Lily wasn't pointing at Victor.
She pointed at the man standing beside him.
"That's him."
Maxwell frowned.
"Who?"
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
"The man from the telephone."
I looked at the photograph.
"How could you know?"
She shook her head.
"I heard him once before."
"When?"
"Last summer."
She swallowed.
"He came to our apartment building and talked to Madame Girard in French."
My heart stopped.
My daughter's elderly French teacher had met someone connected to Maxwell's enemies.
And she'd never mentioned it.
Maxwell looked at the photograph again.
The man Lily was pointing at had silver hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and an expensive watch.
Maxwell knew him.
Everyone in his organization knew him.
His name was Adrian Laurent.
May you like
And he wasn't merely a business partner.
He was the man Maxwell had trusted to handle Isabelle's estate after her death.
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