Chapter 5: The Marriage Before the Marriage
I forgot how to breathe.
"What exactly did he say?""
Isolde's voice shook.
"He said, 'Has Ashcombe gotten close enough to Wren yet?''"
"Not Desmond?""
"No.""
"Ashcombe?""
"Yes.""
Chairman Voss lowered himself into a chair.
Nathaniel looked at me carefully.
I understood why.
Ashcombe was my surname.
Desmond had taken it when we married.
At the time, he'd made it sound romantic.
"My family name means nothing to me," he'd told me the night before our wedding.
"Yours survived everything. I'd be proud to carry it.""
I'd cried when he said that.
Now the memory made me nauseous.
"What was Desmond's original surname?"" Nathaniel asked.
"Reeve.""
Voss stood abruptly.
"Desmond Reeve.""
Something in his voice made me turn.
"You know that name.""
"I know a Reeve.""
"Who?""
Voss rubbed a hand over his mouth.
"Martin Reeve.""
Isolde flinched.
I saw it.
"You know him too.""
"No.""
"That wasn't a question.""
She looked toward the elevator.
Nathaniel stepped between her and the doors.
"Nobody is holding you here, Ms. Mercer. But leaving now would be an extremely poor decision.""
She sank back.
"My uncle had a driver when I was young. Martin.""
Voss nodded slowly.
"Gideon's fixer.""
"Fixer?""
"He handled problems.""
"What kind of problems?""
"The kind companies don't put in annual reports.""
I thought of my mother's crash.
"Was Martin Reeve ever investigated?""
"Briefly.""
"For her death?""
"Yes.""
My stomach twisted.
"And?""
"He had an alibi.""
"Who gave it?""
Voss looked at Isolde.
She whispered, "Gideon.""
Of course.
I turned away.
Fourteen years with Desmond.
Fourteen years of breakfasts.
Anniversaries.
Arguments over paint colors.
His hand holding mine at my father's funeral.
His voice telling me I was the only person who truly knew him.
Had any of it been real?
Nathaniel was typing rapidly on his phone.
"I can have investigators pull Desmond's birth records.""
"Do it.""
"Wren," Voss said gently.
I faced him.
"Don't.""
"Don't what?""
"Look at me like my marriage just died.""
His eyes softened.
I laughed bitterly.
"That happened before tonight.""
My phone buzzed.
DESMOND.
A message.
We need to talk before they lie to you.
I showed Nathaniel.
"Don't respond," he said.
I typed anyway.
Where?
Nathaniel sighed.
"Wren.""
"If he thinks I'm alone, he'll talk.""
Desmond replied almost instantly.
Home. One hour. Come alone.
Voss shook his head.
"Absolutely not.""
"I'm not actually going alone.""
Nathaniel studied the message.
"He may be trying to recover something from the apartment.""
"Then we'll let him try.""
One hour later, I entered my apartment while two investigators waited one floor below.
The place was dark.
"Desmond?""
A lamp clicked on.
He sat in my father's old leather chair.
My anger became ice.
"Get out of that chair.""
He stood.
"You finally know about Gideon.""
"How long?""
"How long what?""
"How long have you known who my mother was?""
He looked exhausted.
"Since before we married.""
The answer hit harder than his hand in the ballroom.
I gripped the edge of the dining table.
"Before?""
"Yes.""
"Did you marry me because of Corvina?""
"No.""
"Don't insult me.""
"I approached you because of Corvina.""
There was the distinction.
Tiny.
Cruel.
"But I married you because I loved you.""
I laughed.
"Did Isolde hear that speech too?""
His jaw tightened.
"Isolde was a mistake.""
"She was wearing my grandmother's diamonds.""
"She took them.""
"From my jewelry box?""
He looked away.
I stepped closer.
"Who is Martin Reeve?""
His face became unreadable.
"My father.""
I had expected it.
Hearing it still hurt.
"And your father worked for Gideon.""
"Yes.""
"Did he have anything to do with my mother's death?""
"No.""
Too fast.
"Desmond.""
"No.""
"You're lying.""
He slammed his palm against the table.
"My father did not kill your mother!""
The investigators downstairs would hear everything through the recorder hidden inside my clutch.
I kept my voice steady.
"Then who did?""
Desmond stared at me.
And for the first time that night, I saw fear.
Real fear.
"Gideon didn't send me to marry you.""
"What?""
"My father did.""
"Why?""
"Because he believed your father stole something from Gideon after Elaine died.""
"What?""
"An ownership instrument.""
I frowned.
"The partnership agreement?""
"No.""
Desmond shook his head.
"Something attached to it. A private option granting control if certain misconduct was ever proven.""
My father's letter suddenly made sense.
Ownership reveals.
"Did you find it?""
"No.""
"Then why steal the blue folder?""
"Because I thought Voss had hidden it there.""
"You broke into his car.""
"I was desperate.""
"You stole millions.""
His expression changed.
"Not for myself.""
"Where did the money go?""
"I moved it where Gideon instructed.""
My blood chilled.
"So he's alive.""
Desmond said nothing.
I stepped closer.
"You've been meeting him.""
Silence.
"At the Marrow Club.""
His eyes flickered.
There.
Confirmation.
"Why use my mother's dormant trust?""
"Because Gideon wanted to force the old account back into the banking system.""
"Why?""
"To find the person monitoring it.""
I stared at him.
"What person?""
Desmond looked toward the windows.
Then back at me.
"The one person Gideon has been afraid of for seventeen years.""
My mouth went dry.
"My father is dead.""
"I didn't say your father.""
"Then who?""
Desmond swallowed.
Before he could answer, the apartment intercom buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Desmond went pale.
"Don't answer that.""
"Why?""
He moved toward me.
"Wren, listen to me.""
The intercom buzzed again.
"Who is downstairs?""
May you like
Desmond whispered two words.
"Gideon Mercer.""
