Chapter 3 - The Bride's Beautiful Lie
Celia recovered quickly. Too quickly.
"Because she stole it," she said. "That's what people like her do."
"People like her?" Adrian repeated.
"I meant people who sneak into private events."
Lena looked down at her uniform. "I didn't steal anything. A housekeeper asked me to deliver towels. The packet was open on the desk."
"Convenient," Preston muttered.
Adrian crouched beside Ivy. "Sweetheart, I need you to go with Miles for a few minutes. He's taking you to the room next door. The door stays open."
Ivy studied Miles, a broad-shouldered man who had worked security for the Ward family for nine years. "No Grandpa Preston?"
"No Grandpa Preston," Adrian promised.
Only then did she let go of Lena.
Adrian faced his father and his bride. "Let's get one thing straight. No more wedding speeches. No more signatures. You both owe me answers."
Preston loosened his tie. "The trust has been losing money for years. We're saving you from a financial disaster."
"By giving my vote to Celia's firm?"
Celia folded her arms. "I built the restructuring plan. Your father asked me to. There isn't anything criminal about that."
"Then why hide it under our honeymoon itinerary?"
A flush rose on her cheeks. "You were overwhelmed. I was trying to help."
Lena shook her head. "That property isn't just a building. Twenty-eight families live there, and a day-care center uses the east wing. The inspection company was told not to look behind the basement wall."
"Because it's a condemned maintenance shaft," Preston said.
"Because that's where the original wiring records were sealed after the fire."
Adrian was eight when Ash Street burned. He remembered sirens, the smell of wet smoke, and his father's hand covering his eyes in the back of a police car. He remembered being told his mother had caused the blaze and then died running away.
If she'd died fleeing, why a closed casket? Why had no one asked him what he'd seen?
"I want the trust agreement," he said. "The original, not your summary."
Celia took a step toward him. "Please, Adrian. We can talk after the ceremony. I love you."
"Then you should've trusted me with the truth."
A soft knock interrupted them. Miles appeared in the doorway, alone.
"Mr. Ward," he said, "I left Ivy with the wedding coordinator for thirty seconds to check a hallway camera. Now she's gone."
May you like
Adrian's stomach dropped.
Miles held up a phone showing a grainy security image: Ivy walking toward the service elevator beside Celia's brother, attorney Owen Hart.
