Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Was Sent to Betray Him
The worst part was not Marcus Bell's accusation.
It was the expression on Claire Bennett's face when she heard it.
Roman had seen fear in her eyes before.
He had seen grief.
He had seen the stunned horror of a woman who had survived an attack and believed herself responsible for another man's death.
But this was different.
This was recognition.
Roman lowered the pistol he'd taken from Marcus.
“Claire.”
She stared at the unconscious guard.
“Mr. Vale, I can explain.”
Those were the same words she'd spoken in the kitchen.
Only this time, Roman wasn't sure he wanted to hear them.
Adrian rushed into the bedroom.
“Medical team is on the way. The fire is contained. It was started deliberately in the laundry room.”
He looked at Marcus.
“Is he alive?”
“Barely,” Roman answered. “Keep him that way.”
Adrian called for the medics.
Roman turned toward Claire.
“Come with me.”
She followed him into the adjoining sitting room.
He closed the door.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Claire's hands trembled.
“Did someone send you here?”
She nodded.
Roman felt something inside him tighten.
“Who?”
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
“She said her name was Helen.”
“Last name?”
“I never knew it.”
“When?”
“Before I applied for the job.”
Roman stared at her.
Claire wiped her eyes.
“Eleven months ago, I was working at a nursing home outside Albany. My adoptive father had died, and I was trying to pay off the debts from his medical care.”
She swallowed.
“One afternoon, a woman came to see me. She was older, maybe in her sixties. She knew things about my childhood.”
“What things?”
“She knew about the necklace. She knew my adoptive mother's name. She even knew I used to wake up crying because I couldn't remember my real mother.”
Roman remained silent.
“She told me there was a house in Blackridge where I might find answers.”
“Vale House.”
Claire nodded.
“She said I should apply for the housekeeping position. She told me to pay attention to anything unusual in the old part of the house.”
Roman looked away.
Eleven months.
For eleven months, Claire had lived beneath his roof, preparing his meals, cleaning his rooms, and watching him conduct business.
He had trusted her.
More than he'd admitted to himself.
“What were you supposed to find?”
“A book.”
“What kind of book?”
“She didn't know. She said it might be hidden in a wall or behind a cabinet. She told me it would have my mother's name inside.”
“The ledger.”
“I didn't know what it was.”
“Did you report back to her?”
Claire hesitated.
Roman's voice hardened.
“Claire.”
“Yes.”
The answer hurt more than he expected.
“How often?”
“Three times.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I hadn't found anything.”
“Anything else?”
Claire shook her head.
“Nothing about your business. Nothing about your security. I swear.”
Roman studied her.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I thought you'd fire me.”
“That was your choice to make.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
His voice rose for the first time.
“Someone entered my home using information from twenty years ago. One of my guards is dead. Two armed men tried to kill people under this roof, and you're telling me you were sent here by a stranger who knew my mother's secrets?”
Claire recoiled.
Roman stopped.
He saw the fear he'd put into her face.
He stepped back.
“I'm not going to hurt you.”
“I know.”
But her voice said she wasn't entirely certain.
Roman turned toward the window.
He wanted to be angry.
Anger was familiar.
Anger was simple.
But beneath it lay something far more painful.
He had begun to care about Claire.
Not because she worked for him.
Not because she needed protection.
Because she challenged the version of himself he'd spent years pretending was enough.
She noticed when he skipped meals.
She remembered the anniversary of his mother's death.
Once, when he returned home with blood on his knuckles, she'd silently left a first-aid kit outside his study instead of asking questions.
And now he didn't know whether any of it had been real.
“Did you ever intend to hurt me?” he asked.
Claire's face crumpled.
“No.”
“Then why didn't you come to me?”
“Because men like you don't usually listen to women like me.”
Roman turned.
She wiped her cheeks angrily.
“I've spent my whole life being told to be grateful. Grateful somebody adopted me. Grateful somebody hired me. Grateful somebody let me stay.”
Her voice steadied.
“But I wanted to know who I was.”
Roman said nothing.
“And when that woman told me there might be answers here, I came. I didn't come to destroy your family.”
She looked him directly in the eyes.
“I came because I thought I might finally find mine.”
The words landed like a blow.
Roman slowly sat down.
After a long silence, he asked, “What did Helen look like?”
Claire described her.
Silver hair.
Pale blue eyes.
A slight limp.
A thin scar near her right eyebrow.
Roman listened.
Then he reached for his phone.
He opened an old photograph of his mother.
Evelyn stood beside a hospital window, smiling.
Claire looked at it.
Her breath caught.
“That's her.”
Roman stared.
“Are you sure?”
“The woman who came to see me.”
Roman enlarged the image.
Evelyn's hair had been dark then.
There was no visible scar.
But the eyes were unmistakable.
Claire touched the screen.
“She was older when I met her.”
Roman felt his pulse hammer.
“Claire, my mother would be sixty-seven today.”
Claire looked up.
“That sounds right.”
Roman stood so abruptly that the chair struck the wall.
His mother was alive.
She had come to Claire.
She had deliberately sent her into Vale House.
But why hadn't she come to Roman herself?
At 4:20 p.m., the attorney arrived with the court authorization needed to open Eleanor Bennett's safe-deposit box.
Roman wanted to leave immediately.
Adrian refused.
“We have a compromised security team, two casualties, and at least one armed suspect unaccounted for. You're not walking into a public bank without a plan.”
Roman stared at him.
“Then make one.”
Adrian nodded.
“Give me thirty minutes.”
While they waited, Claire received a text message.
Unknown number.
You told him.
She stared at the screen.
A second message arrived.
That was not part of our agreement.
Claire showed Roman.
He read both messages.
“Don't answer.”
Another appeared.
If Roman opens Box 17, Gabriel will know where to find me.
Roman took the phone.
He typed one question.
Where are you?
The reply came almost immediately.
Ask your doctor what happened in Room 614.
Roman looked toward the security office where Dr. Mercer was still being held.
He felt the final pieces of his childhood beginning to shift.
He called Adrian.
“Bring Mercer to the study.”
“Why?”
“Because I think my mother is telling us where she died.”
Mercer entered the study looking twenty years older than he had that morning.
Roman placed the phone before him.
“Room 614.”
The doctor froze.
“Where did you hear that?”
“Answer me.”
Mercer stared at the message.
His lips trembled.
“Evelyn was never supposed to survive.”
Roman moved closer.
“What happened?”
Mercer sank into a chair.
“Gabriel ordered a procedure. He wanted her sedated and transferred to a private facility.”
“Why?”
“Because she had discovered what he was doing.”
Roman's voice became dangerously quiet.
“What did you do to my mother?”
Mercer covered his face.
“I helped her escape.”
Roman stopped.
The doctor looked up, tears gathering in his eyes.
“I switched the records. I signed the death certificate. Silas arranged the transport.”
“Silas?”
“He was working for Evelyn.”
Roman stared at him.
The man he'd believed murdered his mother had actually saved her.
Mercer swallowed.
“Gabriel found out three days later.”
“What happened?”
“He threatened everyone who helped. Silas disappeared. Evelyn went into hiding.”
“And my father?”
Mercer looked at Roman with unmistakable terror.
“He never stopped looking for her.”
Roman leaned forward.
“Where is Gabriel now?”
The doctor's mouth opened.
Before he could answer, Adrian's phone rang.
Adrian listened.
His face changed.
Then he turned toward Roman.
“The bank just called.”
Roman's heart pounded.
“What happened?”
“Someone opened Box 17 six minutes ago.”
“Who?”
Adrian swallowed.
“The bank says the customer presented valid identification.”
Roman grabbed the desk.
“Whose identification?”
Adrian looked at Claire.
“Eleanor Bennett.”
Claire shook her head.
“But I've been here all day.”
May you like
Adrian's voice dropped.
“The woman at the bank looks exactly like you.”
