Chapter 2 - The House Beatrice Called Hers
I checked into the Langham under my maiden name.
By noon, Julian had called twenty-seven times.
Beatrice called once.
That told me everything.
Julian panicked.
Beatrice calculated.
Arthur asked to meet privately.
We chose Elena's office.
He arrived without his wife.
Without Julian.
Without his usual Sterling confidence.
Arthur Sterling was sixty-seven and looked seventy-five.
He placed a folder on the conference table.
“I should have told you before the wedding.”
“Yes.”
He flinched.
I didn't soften it.
“What did Beatrice do?”
Arthur removed bank statements.
Sterling Heritage had once been genuinely successful.
Arthur's grandfather started the company developing apartment buildings across Illinois.
At its peak, the family owned or managed nearly $200 million in property.
Then came bad acquisitions.
Debt.
Vacancies.
A disastrous luxury project.
Arthur tried to downsize.
Beatrice refused.
“Your wife runs company finances?”
“Not officially.”
“Then how?”
Arthur looked ashamed.
“Through me.”
There it was.
Beatrice demanded appearances remain intact.
Country club.
Drivers.
Charity tables.
Cynthia's lifestyle.
The Oak Park mansion.
She considered reducing expenses a public admission of failure.
When banks tightened lending, she began manipulating company numbers.
Not alone.
Their CFO, Martin Keller, helped.
Receivables were duplicated.
Management fees booked before earned.
Related-party transactions disguised.
Arthur discovered part of it six weeks earlier.
“Why didn't you report it?”
“I confronted her.”
“And?”
“She said she'd fix it.”
I stared.
“You believed her?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
His eyes filled.
“Because Julian was getting married.”
I almost laughed.
Again.
Appearance.
Always appearance.
“You let my company consider lending millions based on false statements because you didn't want to ruin a wedding?”
He looked down.
“Yes.”
“Arthur, that's not protecting family.”
“I know.”
“No. You know now.”
He accepted that.
Then I asked the question that mattered.
“Did Julian know?”
“I don't know.”
“His signature is on the certification.”
“He may have trusted Martin.”
“He's chief operating officer.”
“I know.”
“Then ignorance isn't flattering either.”
Arthur covered his face.
For a moment, he wasn't my almost-former father-in-law.
He was simply an exhausted man who had spent too long allowing stronger personalities to make unethical decisions around him.
I had sympathy.
Not absolution.
“What about Cynthia?”
“No involvement that I know.”
“And the house?”
Arthur looked toward the window.
“Beatrice thinks the title transfer can be reversed.”
“On what basis?”
“She thinks Julian marrying you changes things.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She knew you were connected to Rowan.”
My heart stopped.
“How much did she know?”
“Not that you owned it.”
“Then what?”
“She knew your father had invested with Rowan years ago.”
Interesting.
“She thought marriage might create leverage.”
There it was.
The wedding shifted beneath my memories.
White orchids.
Beatrice crying as she fastened my veil.
Her saying:
You're exactly what this family needs.
At the time, I thought she meant emotionally.
Now?
Maybe not.
“Did Julian know she thought that?”
Arthur hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
I stood.
“Claire.”
“I need air.”
“Please.”
I turned.
Arthur looked terrified.
“Don't assume Julian married you for Rowan.”
“I didn't.”
That was true.
May you like
Not yet.
“But I'm going to find out.”
