Chapter 1 - The Door in the Rain
The mahogany door crushed Victor Vale’s fingers before the betrayal crushed what remained of his heart.
Pain shot through his hand as Celeste leaned against the door with both palms, forcing it shut while heavy rain swept across the marble entrance of the Vale estate.
“Go die in the slums, you penniless parasite.”
Twenty years ago, Victor had found Celeste barefoot behind a Baltimore diner, fourteen years old and shivering beneath a torn coat. He had given her food, a bedroom, therapy, an education, and eventually his name.
Now she smiled while breaking his fingers.
Victor collapsed onto the rain-slicked steps, fighting for air through his damaged lung. His burgundy robe dragged through the water. Behind Celeste, her husband Julian Crane appeared carrying a leather overnight bag.
He tossed it beside Victor.
“The accounts are empty,” Julian said. “The board recognizes Celeste. The house is transferred. Vale Meridian belongs to us.”
Celeste nudged Victor’s oxygen cylinder with her heel.
It rolled down the steps and struck the driveway.
“You should’ve given me the offshore passwords when I asked.”
Victor raised his face.
He did not look at Celeste.
He looked above her.
Mounted beneath the carved archway was a small brass security camera.
Its red light blinked.
Once.
Victor smiled.
Celeste’s expression tightened.
“What’s funny?”
Victor swallowed against the pain.
“I’m letting you finish.”
She stared at him, then laughed.
“You’re delirious.”
A rusted sedan suddenly stopped beside the circular driveway.
Lena Brooks jumped out wearing navy scrubs beneath an old raincoat.
She saw Victor and ran.
“What did you do to him?”
Celeste folded her arms. “Your employment ended ten minutes ago.”
Lena ignored her. She wrapped her coat around Victor and examined his injured hand.
“He needs a hospital.”
“Then pay for it yourself.”
Lena looked up.
For the first time, Celeste’s smile disappeared.
The nurse was not afraid of her.
Lena helped Victor into the passenger seat and drove through the estate gates.
Only when the mansion vanished behind them did Victor reach inside his torn robe.
He removed a black memory card.
A telephone number was engraved along its edge.
He pressed it into Lena’s palm.
“Don’t take me to the hospital yet.”
Lena stared at him.
“You can barely breathe.”
“Take me to your apartment.”
“Why?”
Victor looked through the rain-covered windshield.
“Because Celeste discharged me from the hospital using a document I never signed.”
Lena’s face changed.
Victor closed her fingers around the card.
“Call that number.”
“Whose is it?”
Victor leaned back, exhausted.
“Special Agent Marcus Reed.”
Lena nearly missed the turn.
“The FBI?”
Victor nodded.
“He’s been waiting six months for my daughter to believe she finally won.”
Then Lena turned the card over.
May you like
On the reverse side, beneath the engraved number, someone had scratched three words by hand:
DO NOT TRUST REED.
