Chapter 5 - The Woman in the LibraryCeleste Laurent looked completely at ease standing in my father's ransacked library.
That was the most frightening part.
Her cream-colored coat was spotless.
Her blonde hair fell in polished waves.
She held the brass key between two manicured fingers as though she were displaying a piece of jewelry.
Grant moved in front of me.
"How did you get inside?"
Celeste smiled.
"Your father gave me the security code."
"Give her the key."
"Grant, don't be dramatic."
He stepped closer.
"Now."
Something in his voice made her smile disappear.
She placed the key on the desk.
Then she looked at me.
"You have no idea what your father left you."
I stared at her.
"Then enlighten me."
Celeste glanced at Grant.
"Perhaps your husband should tell you."
Grant frowned.
"Tell her what?"
She laughed softly.
"Oh, that's beautiful. You really don't know."
"Know what?"
"Why Victor wanted Whitmore Systems in the first place."
Grant's expression changed.
Celeste saw it.
And smiled again.
"There it is."
I stepped forward.
"Get out of my house."
"Nora—"
"Now."
For a moment, she looked almost offended.
Then she picked up her handbag.
"You're making a mistake."
"People keep telling me that."
She stopped at the doorway.
"Your father wasn't ruined by bad investments, Nora."
My breath caught.
"He was ruined because he found something."
Grant moved toward her.
"What did he find?"
Celeste looked directly at me.
"Ask Victor about Project Northstar."
Then she walked out.
Grant immediately called his security director, Daniel Price, and instructed him to preserve the property's surveillance footage.
I stood beside my father's overturned desk.
Project Northstar.
The name meant nothing.
And yet something about it felt familiar.
A memory stirred.
My father sitting in this library late at night.
A blue folder.
An argument on the telephone.
I won't authorize it, Victor. Not even for you.
I had been twenty-six.
I remembered because it was the night before my father suffered his first heart attack.
"Northstar," I whispered.
Grant looked up.
"What?"
"I've heard that name."
He crossed the room.
"Where?"
"My father."
Grant went still.
"What did he say?"
I shook my head.
"Not enough."
The police arrived twenty minutes later.
They documented the break-in, took statements, and asked why Celeste had been inside the property.
Grant gave them her name.
I watched his face as he spoke.
He didn't protect her.
He didn't call his father.
He simply told the truth.
That should not have surprised me.
But it did.
After the officers left, Grant insisted that I stay somewhere secure while the investigation continued.
I refused his penthouse.
He offered a hotel.
I refused that too.
Finally, he said, "Then I'll stay here."
I stared at him.
"No."
"Nora, someone broke into your home."
"I noticed."
"And they may come back."
"I can hire security."
"You can. I'll pay for it."
"I don't want your money."
"Then consider it an investment in my children's safety."
I folded my arms.
"Our children."
He stopped.
Then nodded.
"You're right."
The correction was small.
But important.
I looked at the mess around us.
"Guest room. East wing."
Grant blinked.
"What?"
"You can stay in the guest room."
He looked almost relieved.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet. The plumbing makes a terrible noise after midnight."
For the first time in months, he laughed.
A real laugh.
It lasted only a second.
But I remembered it.
Later that evening, while Daniel's team checked the doors and cameras, Grant and I entered the basement archive.
My father had built it beneath the original wine cellar.
Steel cabinets lined the walls.
A dehumidifier hummed beside a long worktable.
I used the brass key to open the innermost cabinet.
Inside were engineering plans, financial ledgers, and several sealed envelopes.
One bore my name.
I opened it with trembling hands.
The letter was dated six months before my father's death.
My dearest Nora,
If you're reading this, then I was right to be afraid.
My knees weakened.
Grant pulled out a chair.
I sat.
The letter continued.
Whitmore Systems did not fail because of our expansion. The debt was engineered.
Victor Hale used intermediary companies to acquire our obligations, then forced the merger through financial pressure.
I discovered evidence of something worse.
Project Northstar.
The documents are not all here. I divided them because I knew someone would come looking.
I looked at Grant.
He was pale.
"Keep reading," he whispered.
Northstar was presented as a logistics modernization program. In reality, certain executives were falsifying inspection records on infrastructure projects.
I refused to approve the final certification.
Two weeks later, our largest lender demanded immediate repayment.
My hands shook.
Eight hundred employees.
My father's company.
Our marriage.
Everything had been built on a lie.
I continued.
There is one person inside Hale Meridian who knows the truth.
Her name is Margaret Vale.
Grant suddenly stood.
"What?"
I looked up.
"Do you know her?"
He stared at the letter.
"Margaret Vale was our chief compliance officer."
"Was?"
"She disappeared four years ago."
A chill moved through me.
"Disappeared?"
"She resigned. No one could find her afterward."
I looked back at the letter.
The final sentence was underlined.
If Margaret is still alive, she can prove what Victor did.
Grant took out his phone.
"Daniel, I need everything you can find on Margaret Vale."
Then he turned toward me.
"Nora, I need to tell you something."
His expression frightened me.
"What?"
"Three months ago, I found an irregularity in our infrastructure division."
I stared.
"What kind?"
"Inspection certifications that didn't match the original engineering records."
"Northstar?"
He nodded.
"I started investigating. That's why I came here in July. I needed to ask about your father's old files."
My heart began pounding.
"And you never told me?"
"I didn't want to involve you until I knew what I was dealing with."
I laughed bitterly.
"That seems to be your favorite excuse."
He accepted the blow.
Then his phone rang.
Daniel.
Grant answered.
Listened.
And went completely still.
"What do you mean, she contacted you?"
I stood.
"Grant?"
He held up one hand.
"Where?"
Another pause.
Then he looked at me.
"Margaret Vale is alive."
My breath caught.
"Where is she?"
Grant swallowed.
"She's been living under another name in Vermont."
He listened again.
Then his face changed.
"What?"
I gripped the desk.
"Grant!"
He lowered the phone.
"Margaret called Daniel twenty minutes ago."
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"And?"
"She said she has proof that your father's death wasn't natural."
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