Chapter 3 - The Third StairLionel bent to retrieve the pen.
His hands shook so badly that he missed it twice.
Adrian noticed.
"You recognize that phrase."
Lionel straightened.
"No."
"Don't lie to me."
The manager glanced toward Mara.
"Not here."
Adrian stood.
"Mara, would you feel comfortable staying with Natalie for a few minutes? Nobody will touch your hair."
Mara looked at Natalie.
The stylist smiled gently.
"We can just sit together."
After several seconds, Mara nodded.
Adrian followed Lionel into a private consultation room.
The door closed.
"Start talking," Adrian said.
Lionel stared at the floor.
"I knew Celia Quinn."
"How?"
"She helped organize fundraisers for the Morrow Community Land Trust. My wife volunteered there."
"Your wife?"
"Margaret. She died four years ago."
Adrian's anger softened slightly.
"I'm sorry."
Lionel nodded.
"Celia came here once. Not as a customer. She wanted to borrow our private event room for a meeting."
"What meeting?"
"She was trying to convince several donors that money had disappeared from the trust."
Adrian went still.
"How much?"
"She wouldn't give me a figure."
"Did she mention my family?"
Lionel closed his eyes.
"Yes."
Adrian felt his stomach drop.
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her to speak to the trustees and stop making accusations without proof."
"Did she have proof?"
"She said she did."
"Where?"
Lionel looked toward the closed door.
"She said the third stair lies."
Adrian waited.
"I assumed it was some kind of private code. She wouldn't explain."
"Did you tell anyone she'd been here?"
Lionel's silence answered.
"Who?"
"Vivian Shaw."
Adrian stared at him.
Vivian was the chief legal counsel of Vale Development.
For more than twenty years, she had handled his father's most sensitive affairs.
"Why?"
"She was also legal adviser to the Vale Family Foundation, which funded part of Morrow House. I thought she could help."
"And what happened?"
"Vivian told me Celia was emotionally unstable. She said investigators had already examined the trust's accounts."
"That wasn't true."
"I know that now."
Lionel's face crumpled.
"Three weeks later, Celia was dead."
Adrian turned away.
The marble room suddenly felt airless.
For years, his father had insisted that the Morrow House fire was an accident, and that the resulting property transfer had saved the neighborhood from further decline.
Adrian had accepted the explanation.
He had been thirty-six then, recently promoted to president of the family company's commercial division.
His father had handled the nonprofit properties personally.
Adrian had signed financial documents presented to him by attorneys, trusting that their legal review was complete.
Now he wondered what those signatures had actually authorized.
"Do you have records of the meeting?" he asked.
Lionel hesitated.
"Maybe."
"Maybe?"
"My wife kept everything. Invitations, correspondence, photographs. I never had the heart to throw her files away."
"Where are they?"
"At home."
Adrian looked toward the door.
"Find them."
Lionel nodded.
Then he caught Adrian's arm.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"About the girl."
Adrian waited.
"Celia's daughter was reported missing after the fire. For weeks, volunteers looked for her."
"I know."
"Then a woman contacted the trust and claimed the child was safe with distant relatives."
"Who?"
"I never met her."
"Do you remember her name?"
Lionel closed his eyes.
"Ruth Danner."
Adrian repeated the name silently.
It meant nothing to him.
Yet.
His phone vibrated.
A message from his younger sister, Lydia Vale.
Dad knows about the salon.
A second message appeared.
He wants you home immediately.
Then a third.
Adrian, please don't bring the girl.
Adrian read it twice.
He called Lydia.
She answered before the second ring.
"Where is she?" Lydia demanded.
"Who?"
"Don't play games."
Adrian watched the rain strike the consultation-room window.
"Why does Dad care about a girl he supposedly doesn't know?"
Lydia said nothing.
"Lydia."
"Please," she whispered. "You don't understand what you're touching."
"Then explain it."
"I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
Her breathing quickened.
"Adrian, there are things Dad did that—"
She stopped.
A muffled male voice sounded behind her.
Then Lydia spoke again, suddenly stiff.
"Come home. Alone."
The call ended.
Adrian stared at the screen.
Across the salon, Mara sat beside Natalie, carefully untangling a loose strand from her sleeve.
She looked exhausted, hungry, and desperately afraid.
And somewhere inside the Vale family mansion, his father was already waiting.
Adrian understood something then.
The people Mara feared weren't searching for her because she had stolen anything.
May you like
They were searching for her because she remembered something.
And his family might be the reason she had spent ten years hiding.
Related Stories
