Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Photographs
Maren agreed to meet Cecily in Elise’s office.
She refused the restaurant Gideon suggested.
She refused the family estate.
She wanted a place where nobody could mistake hospitality for authority.
Cecily arrived alone, wearing dark trousers and a plain gray sweater. Without evening jewelry or a photographer nearby, she looked younger than Maren remembered.
She did not offer a hug.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
“I haven’t decided whether I’m glad I did.”
“That’s fair.”
Elise sat beside Maren, taking notes.
Cecily placed her phone on the table and turned it off.
“I’m a forensic accountant. I worked in financial investigations before joining my father’s investment firm.”
“Your family introduced you as a potential business partner.”
“I was one.”
“And a potential replacement wife.”
Cecily’s face tightened.
“Celeste encouraged that impression.”
“You let her.”
“Yes.”
The blunt admission unsettled Maren more than an excuse would have.
“Why?”
“Because she spoke freely when she thought I was interested in becoming part of the family.”
Maren leaned back.
“So my humiliation was useful.”
Cecily looked at her directly.
“Yes. And I told myself the information justified it.”
Elise’s pen stopped briefly.
Cecily continued.
“Gideon asked me to examine discrepancies Theo had flagged. At first, we thought they involved theft from the freight division. Then we found shell vendors and insurance payments connected to several damaged shipments.”
“Was Theo involved?”
“He found them. He was preparing to meet an outside auditor.”
“And then he died.”
“Yes.”
Maren’s hand moved unconsciously to her stomach.
Cecily noticed but kept her eyes on Maren’s face.
“I should have insisted you be told. Instead, I accepted Gideon’s decision because it made my work easier. That was wrong.”
For months, Maren had imagined this woman laughing at her.
She had pictured shared hotel rooms and private jokes.
The truth did not make those months painless.
It simply gave the pain a different shape.
“What happened at the Halcyon?”
“We met a former shipping manager in a conference suite. He wouldn’t come to the office.”
“And the estate?”
“Your mother-in-law invited me. Gideon asked me to go because she had begun discussing an investment restructuring.”
Maren closed her eyes.
She remembered sitting at the far end of the dinner table while Celeste praised Cecily’s understanding of difficult men.
She remembered Gideon saying nothing.
When she opened her eyes, Cecily was waiting.
“Do you love him?”
“No.”
“Did you ever?”
“No.”
Maren believed her.
It brought less relief than she expected.
Elise asked about Ash Street.
Cecily opened her folder.
“That property was once a transfer warehouse. Some of the records Theo wanted may have been archived there before it became the literacy center.”
“Adrian added a clause putting all those records in Maren’s possession,” Elise said.
Cecily frowned.
“Why would he do that?”
“To distance the family companies from anything found there,” Maren said slowly.
The room became quiet.
For five years, she had been underestimated because she preferred books and children to boardrooms.
But she had organized every donation, grant, lease, and repair invoice at the center herself.
She understood what it meant when someone moved a liability.
Elise looked at her.
“That is one possibility. We need the drafting history.”
Cecily nodded.
“I can provide the files Theo gave me. Through the appropriate channels.”
After she left, Maren remained seated.
Elise waited.
“I wanted her to be cruel,” Maren admitted.
“That would have been easier?”
“Yes.”
“People can harm you without being exactly who you feared they were.”
Maren looked at the door.
She was beginning to understand that.
That evening, Gideon called.
She let it ring twice before answering.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Tired.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
In another life, his concern would have warmed her.
Tonight, it made her aware of how long she had gone without it.
“I met Cecily.”
“I know.”
“She told me the truth.”
“Yes.”
“You should have.”
“I should have.”
Maren looked through Nora’s kitchen window at the dark yard.
“I don’t want another explanation of why you hurt me.”
“What do you want?”
“Tell me what you’re changing.”
He was quiet long enough that she knew he was thinking.
“Adrian no longer has access to my personal files. An outside firm is reviewing the company records. And I’ve made an appointment with a therapist.”
She swallowed.
“Those are good things.”
“I’m not asking you to come home.”
For the first time, she believed he understood that change could not be presented as a bill she owed him.
Then someone knocked at Nora’s door.
May you like
Maren turned.
Through the frosted glass, she recognized Celeste’s silhouette.
