Chapter 4 - MY FATHER’S NAME
I wanted to hit her again.
That was exactly what Celeste wanted.
So I didn’t move.
Garrett did.
He stepped between us.
“Enough.”
Celeste smiled at him.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Your father’s favorite secret.”
Garrett’s face hardened.
Celeste glanced toward me.
“Thomas Beckett wasn’t fired for being sick.”
I felt the room narrow.
“He was fired because he copied company records.”
“That’s a lie.”
“Is it?”
She looked at Garrett.
“Ask Bess.”
Everyone turned.
Bess had gone pale.
I stared at her.
“You knew my father?”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“How?”
“He came here once.”
“When?”
“Twenty years ago.”
I could barely breathe.
“Why?”
Bess looked at Garrett.
“Your father made me promise.”
Garrett said.
“My father is dead.”
She swallowed.
“Thomas came to the estate with documents.”
“Documents about what?”
“Harwick Shipping.”
Garrett stepped closer.
“What kind of documents?”
Bess looked at me.
“Accident reports.”
My father had worked in cargo loading.
There had been an explosion at Pier Nine when I was twelve.
Three workers died.
Six were injured.
The company called it equipment failure.
My father always said it wasn’t.
I remembered him arguing with someone on the phone at night.
I remembered my mother begging him to let it go.
Then months later he was fired.
Bess continued.
“Thomas believed safety inspections were being falsified.”
“By who?”
Garrett asked.
Bess hesitated.
“Your father’s operations chief.”
“Name.”
“Victor Sloane.”
Garrett became very still.
I knew that name too.
Everybody did.
Victor Sloane had been Garrett’s father’s closest friend.
He was also Celeste Vane’s uncle.
The room changed.
I looked at her.
There it was.
The connection.
Celeste’s expression stayed composed.
But her fingers tightened around her braceletless wrist.
Bess continued.
“Thomas brought proof.”
“He asked Mr. Harwick to expose Sloane.”
“What did my father do?”
Garrett asked.
Bess looked down.
“He paid Thomas to leave.”
My throat closed.
“What?”
“He said going public would destroy the company.”
I felt suddenly twelve years old again.
Watching my father carry boxes out of our house.
Watching my mother hide overdue notices.
Watching him become smaller every month.
Garrett looked sick.
Bess whispered.
“Thomas refused the money.”
“So they fired him.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the empty folder.
“And the records?”
Bess shook her head.
“I thought Mr. Harwick destroyed them.”
Celeste smiled.
“He didn’t.”
Garrett turned.
“Where are they?”
She said nothing.
“Celeste.”
She looked at me.
“Your father kept one copy.”
I stepped closer.
“How would you know?”
She smiled.
“Because my uncle spent twenty years looking for it.”
Then Garrett’s phone rang.
He answered.
A guard’s voice came through.
“Sir.”
“We found Miss Vane’s car leaving the estate last night.”
Garrett looked at Celeste.
“She was not alone.”
“Who was with her?”
May you like
The guard hesitated.
“Victor Sloane.”
