Chapter 5 - THE MAN AT THE GATE
Victor Sloane arrived before noon.
Not because Garrett invited him.
Because Celeste called him.
His black sedan stopped at the front steps.
Two men got out first.
Then Victor.
Seventy years old.
Silver hair.
Dark overcoat.
Still carrying himself like a man who expected doors to open before he touched them.
He walked into the reception hall and looked directly at me.
“Thomas Beckett’s daughter.”
Not a question.
I folded my hands.
“Victor Sloane.”
His mouth twitched.
“You have your father’s attitude.”
“You remember him?”
“I remember problems.”
Garrett stepped forward.
“You were in this house last night.”
Victor ignored him.
He looked at Celeste’s bruised lip.
Then at me.
“You struck my niece.”
“She struck first.”
His eyes sharpened.
“In our world, that distinction rarely matters.”
I answered.
“In mine, it does.”
Garrett almost smiled.
Victor did not.
He turned toward Garrett.
“You’re letting staff dictate the atmosphere of this house?”
Garrett’s expression cooled.
“I’m investigating why my fiancée broke into my father’s archive with you.”
Victor removed his gloves.
“You always were too dramatic.”
“Answer.”
Celeste interrupted.
“Uncle Victor was helping me find documents for the wedding trust.”
Garrett stared at her.
“That lie was weak the first time.”
Victor finally looked at him.
“There are family matters you’re better off leaving buried.”
Garrett’s voice hardened.
“I’m getting tired of that phrase.”
Victor smiled.
“Then perhaps you should ask yourself why your father used it so often.”
That hurt him.
I saw it.
Victor stepped toward me.
“Your father made one mistake.”
“He believed truth had value on its own.”
“It doesn’t.”
I kept my voice steady.
“He believed dead workers mattered.”
“Dead men don’t feed families.”
“Neither did your company.”
His jaw tightened.
Garrett moved between us.
“You will not threaten her in my house.”
Victor laughed.
“Your house?”
He looked around.
“This estate exists because men like me kept your father’s hands clean.”
The staff heard that.
Bess.
Percy.
Addie.
Everybody.
Garrett’s face changed.
Not anger.
Recognition.
Victor had just admitted more than he intended.
Then security entered.
One guard held an envelope.
“Sir.”
“This was found beneath the passenger seat in Miss Vane’s car.”
Celeste went white.
Garrett opened it.
Inside were photocopies.
Inspection reports.
Maintenance failures.
Harwick Shipping.
Pier Nine.
The accident that killed three workers.
My father’s handwritten notes covered the margins.
Garrett looked at me.
I couldn’t speak.
Then he turned to Celeste.
“You said you didn’t take the Beckett file.”
She said nothing.
He lifted the papers.
“These came from the archive.”
Victor’s voice sharpened.
“Give those to me.”
Garrett looked at him.
“No.”
Victor took one step forward.
Security moved immediately.
For the first time, I saw the old man lose confidence.
May you like
Garrett noticed too.
“What is in these papers that still scares you after twenty years?”
