Chapter 5 - The Name Miranda Remembered
Santoro Maritime.
Miranda stared at the message until the letters blurred.
She remembered the name.
Not clearly.
But enough.
A winter evening eighteen months earlier.
Julian’s study.
A folder on the coffee table.
SANTORO.
Michael Trent speaking sharply behind the closed door.
Julian saying, “If the project is finished, I don’t care how many local signatures they needed.”
At the time, Miranda had been carrying tea.
She had heard only seconds of the conversation before Julian opened the door and told her they were discussing business.
She had forgotten the name.
Until now.
Adrien found her near the balcony.
“You disappeared.”
She handed him the phone.
He read the message.
His expression tightened.
“Security.”
“Wait.”
“Miranda.”
“What if whoever sent this wants us to panic?”
“Then they’re doing a bad job. I’m not panicking. I’m irritated.”
“That’s your version of panic.”
He almost smiled.
Then he read the message again.
“Do you know Santoro?”
“Only from overhearing Julian.”
Adrien looked toward the ballroom.
Julian had not returned.
“Hayes Meridian used Santoro Maritime on European port projects.”
“How do you know?”
“My father’s commission flagged them in the Bellmont bid.”
Miranda’s stomach tightened.
“So this is real.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“The message could contain real information without the sender being trustworthy.”
That distinction mattered.
They reported the number to Bellmont security.
Within minutes, technicians began tracing it.
The message had been routed through multiple temporary services.
No obvious source.
Miranda finished the gala without mentioning it publicly.
At eleven thirty, the last major donors left.
At midnight, she finally removed her heels and sat on the edge of the stage.
Naomi dropped into the chair beside her.
“You raised almost four million dollars.”
“We raised it.”
“You married diplomatic royalty.”
“Not royalty.”
“You embarrassed your ex-husband without saying one mean thing.”
“That was not the objective.”
“It was still beautiful.”
Miranda laughed tiredly.
Naomi studied her.
“You okay?”
Miranda considered lying.
Then she showed her the message.
Naomi’s expression changed.
“That is not beautiful.”
“No.”
“Police?”
“Security is handling it.”
“You think Julian’s involved?”
“I don’t know.”
Naomi squeezed her hand.
“Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Do not turn into the woman who investigates a billionaire alone in a dark parking garage.”
Miranda smiled faintly.
“I promise.”
At 1:20 a.m., Julian returned to his penthouse.
Candace followed him inside.
She had barely waited for the elevator doors to close before starting.
“You looked ridiculous tonight.”
Julian removed his cuff links.
“Good evening, Candace.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
“You stood there staring at Miranda like someone had stolen something from you.”
He tossed the cuff links onto a table.
“They did.”
Candace froze.
Julian immediately regretted saying it.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What does that mean?”
“The Bellmont contract.”
“That is not what you meant.”
“It’s exactly what I meant.”
She followed him into the living room.
“You’re jealous.”
“No.”
“Then why did you ask how long they’ve been together?”
“I didn’t.”
“You asked his security officer.”
Julian turned.
“That was about the threat.”
“What threat?”
Too late.
He had not meant to tell her.
Candace’s expression sharpened.
“What threat, Julian?”
He exhaled.
“Someone sent photographs.”
“To Miranda?”
“To Calloway’s people. Possibly both of us.”
Candace’s face went pale.
“Of the bus stop?”
“Among other things.”
“How would anyone have those?”
“You tell me.”
She stared.
“You think I sent them?”
“I think you post half your life online and gossip with anyone holding champagne.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You’re blaming me?”
“I’m asking who knew where we were.”
“Half of Boston can recognize your car.”
“Who did you tell afterward?”
“No one.”
“Candace.”
She folded her arms.
“I might have told Chloe.”
“Who’s Chloe?”
“You met her.”
“That narrows it down considerably.”
“My publicist.”
Julian’s stare hardened.
“You told your publicist that I intentionally splashed my ex-wife with muddy water?”
Candace looked away.
“I thought it was funny.”
Julian closed his eyes.
“What did she do with it?”
“Nothing.”
“Call her.”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“Call her.”
Candace reluctantly dialed.
Chloe answered after several rings.
Candace put the phone on speaker.
“Did you tell anyone about what happened with Miranda?”
Silence.
Then Chloe said, “Why?”
Julian stepped forward.
“Because I’m asking.”
Chloe’s tone changed immediately.
“Mr. Hayes.”
“Who did you tell?”
“I mentioned it to a freelance entertainment reporter.”
Candace whispered, “You what?”
“It was off the record.”
Julian laughed once.
There was nothing amused in the sound.
“Reporters do not have an off switch.”
“I didn’t give them photos.”
“Name.”
“Peter Vale.”
Julian froze.
He knew the name.
Peter Vale had spent months publishing corporate investigations into Hayes Meridian.
Michael had once called him “a journalist with a crowbar.”
“Why him?”
“He contacted me about another story.”
“What story?”
Chloe hesitated.
“The Bellmont bid.”
Julian’s blood turned cold.
“Candace,” he said quietly, “hang up.”
She did.
“What?”
Julian stared at the dark windows.
Peter Vale.
Santoro Maritime.
Miranda.
The anonymous photographs.
Suddenly, it seemed possible that the scandal around his marriage and the corporate investigation were not separate things.
The following morning, Miranda received a call from a number she recognized.
Julian.
She watched it ring.
Adrien sat across from her at breakfast.
“You’re not required to answer.”
“I know.”
It stopped.
Then began again.
She answered.
“What?”
Julian skipped hello.
“Did someone message you about Santoro Maritime?”
Miranda’s expression changed.
Adrien immediately noticed.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“What did they send?”
“A name.”
“Anything else?”
“Why?”
“Because someone sent me a photo of you at the bus stop.”
Miranda sat straighter.
“What?”
“They wrote that I should have left you alone.”
“You think I sent it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You were about to.”
“I’m asking questions.”
“No, Julian. You’re doing what you always do. You’ve decided there’s a threat, and you’re looking for the nearest person to control.”
“Miranda, this is bigger than us.”
“There is no us.”
Silence.
Adrien looked away, giving her privacy without leaving.
Julian’s voice lowered.
“Someone knows about Santoro.”
“So do you.”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“Because Santoro was a contractor.”
Miranda stood.
“What did they do?”
Another silence.
Too long.
Her heartbeat increased.
“Julian?”
“They may have bribed local officials.”
“May have?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Is that true?”
“Yes.”
She wanted to believe nothing he said.
Yet she recognized something in his voice.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not of losing Miranda.
Of losing everything.
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because if someone contacts you again, I need to know.”
Miranda almost laughed.
“You need?”
“Bad wording.”
“Very.”
Then Julian said something she had not expected.
“Please.”
Miranda went silent.
In eight years, Julian had rarely used that word when asking anything of her.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because whoever is doing this is watching you too.”
Miranda looked at Adrien.
May you like
And suddenly the mud at the bus stop no longer felt like the beginning of the story.
It felt like the moment someone else decided to start watching.
