Chapter 5 - The Other Woman’s Receipt
They met in Naomi’s office.
Cordelia refused a hotel, a restaurant, or any location chosen by Elena. If the woman wanted to talk, she could do it beneath fluorescent lights with an attorney taking notes.
Elena arrived without jewelry.
She was older than Cordelia expected, perhaps forty-three, with dark hair pulled into a severe knot and a coat that had seen better seasons.
For an embarrassing instant, Cordelia searched her face for the quality that had made four years of deception worthwhile.
Then she stopped.
Dante’s choices were not a beauty contest she had lost.
Elena sat.
“I’m not here to ask you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
Naomi explained that she represented Cordelia alone. Elena could bring her own attorney, stop the conversation, or decline to answer questions.
“I understand.”
Cordelia folded her hands.
“Why did you mention the tablet?”
“Because he keeps a second one for travel. The old device still receives some account messages. He thought his assistant had signed it out.”
“So he didn’t leave it for me.”
“No. I did.”
The room went silent.
Elena took a breath.
“I brought it to the suite with the gift boxes before the ceremony. I knew you’d be alone there eventually.”
Cordelia stared at her.
“You let me marry him.”
“I thought you might find it before.”
“You thought.”
Elena looked down.
“Yes.”
Anger rose so sharply that Cordelia had to uncurl her fingers beneath the table.
Naomi waited until she could speak.
“What do you know about the paintings?”
Elena removed a folded invoice from her bag.
“I managed private events for Dante’s company. Sometimes I handled purchases, deliveries, guest lists. Last autumn, he asked me to arrange a viewing for a buyer.”
She slid the invoice forward.
Cordelia recognized the title of the river landscape.
The listed seller was a company she had never heard of.
The sale price was nearly three million dollars.
“Did you see the painting?”
“Yes. At a townhouse in New York.”
“Who owned it?”
“I was told Dante’s company had accepted it against a debt.”
Naomi examined the invoice.
“Where did you obtain this?”
“My work email. I kept my records when he told me to delete the event folder.”
“Do you still have the original account?”
“Yes.”
Naomi gave her the name of an attorney and advised her to preserve everything without altering or forwarding more material.
Elena nodded.
Then she looked at Cordelia.
“He told me you understood the marriage.”
Cordelia almost smiled.
“Did he also tell you I understood the wedding night?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
Elena’s eyes filled.
“No.”
There it was.
Not innocence.
Not a misunderstanding large enough to hide inside.
Just a woman who had accepted the version that allowed her to keep what she wanted.
“I loved him,” Elena said quietly.
“So did I.”
That answer seemed to hurt her more than accusation would have.
After Elena left, Cordelia stood at Naomi’s window.
“Do you believe her?”
“I believe she has information we can verify.”
It was exactly the answer Cordelia needed.
Within two days, Elena retained counsel. Her original emails and invoice records went to the attorneys handling the trust’s investigation. Judith identified details in photographs from the private viewing that appeared consistent with the missing landscape.
The prospective buyer, approached through counsel, agreed not to move or sell the work while ownership was examined.
For the first time, something stolen had stopped traveling farther away.
Then Henry requested a meeting.
He wanted no lawyers.
Cordelia declined.
He asked again, saying he was her father.
She told him that was why he should understand her answer.
The meeting took place in Evelyn’s office.
Henry looked ten years older than he had at the wedding. He carried a paper bag containing almond pastries from the bakery Cordelia had loved as a child.
He set it between them.
“I thought you might not be eating.”
Cordelia looked at the bag and felt a terrible tenderness.
He still knew the shape of caring.
He had simply chosen when to use it.
“Tell me the truth,” she said.
Henry sat slowly.
“The first loan wasn’t eighteen million.”
“How much?”
“Six.”
“What happened?”
His eyes moved toward the door.
Cordelia waited.
May you like
Finally, he said, “I thought I could win it back.”
The pastries remained untouched.
