Chapter 11 - The Price of Silence
Willow stepped between Lucas and the elevator.
Evan Cole's polite expression did not change.
“Move, Mrs. Sterling.”
“Ms. Donovan.”
His eyes flickered.
“Of course.”
Leah raised her phone and began recording openly.
“Mr. Cole, are you directing Lucas Sterling somewhere on Richard Sterling's behalf?”
Cole looked at her.
“I’m informing an executive that the chairman requested him.”
“Where?”
“Private office.”
Michael moved beside Willow.
“Then Richard can come here.”
Cole ignored him.
Lucas looked trapped between the elevator and four people who suddenly saw what he had spent his life pretending was normal.
“I'm going,” he said.
Willow turned.
“Why?”
“Because if I don't, he will make this worse.”
She stared at him.
“He already made you sign an eighty-six-million-dollar transfer.”
Lucas flinched.
Cole's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
Willow noticed.
“So you know about that,” she said.
Cole looked at her.
“I know nothing about corporate finance.”
“Then why did you react?”
“I didn't.”
Leah smiled thinly.
“The camera can decide.”
Cole looked at Lucas again.
“Your father is waiting.”
Lucas took one step toward the elevator.
Willow caught his sleeve.
He stopped.
She released it immediately.
“I am not asking you to choose me.”
Lucas looked at her.
“I stopped asking for that last night.”
“Then what?”
“I’m asking whether you're going to keep choosing him.”
The question hung between them.
Cole's jaw tightened.
Lucas looked toward the elevator.
Then at his phone.
Then at Willow's cheek.
He slowly reached out and placed the phone in Leah's hand.
“Copy the voicemail.”
Cole's face changed.
“Lucas.”
The first name came out with warning.
Lucas looked at him.
“Tell my father I'll speak to him with counsel present.”
Cole stared for one long second.
Then he smiled again.
“Certainly.”
The elevator doors closed.
Lucas exhaled as if he had been underwater.
Leah immediately copied the recording to three secure locations.
Michael watched the elevator numbers descend.
“That man was at the hotel last night.”
Lucas nodded.
“He runs all family security.”
“Did he arrange the investigators on Willow?” Leah asked.
Lucas looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
Willow's stomach tightened even though she had expected the answer.
“Did he arrange the break-in at my father's shop?”
“I don't know.”
“Would he?”
Lucas did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Leah handed his phone back.
“You need independent criminal counsel.”
“My father has lawyers.”
“They represent him and the company.”
“Not you.”
Lucas looked toward the closed elevator.
The realization seemed to settle slowly.
Willow almost felt sorry for him.
Then she remembered Amanda locked on a terrace in January.
Understanding why Lucas was weak did not erase what he had done with that weakness.
A federal agent stepped into the hall.
“Mr. Sterling, we'd like to ask you some questions.”
Lucas looked at Leah.
She shook her head.
“Not without your own lawyer.”
He laughed once.
“You're my wife's lawyer.”
“Exactly.”
Willow corrected him.
“Ex-wife soon.”
Lucas looked at her.
The pain in his face was real.
So was the mark on hers.
He nodded.
“I understand.”
They left him with the agent and returned to the lobby.
Outside, morning had turned the river gray.
News vans lined the curb.
Willow's name crawled across a television screen mounted above reception.
The lower-third graphic read STERLING WIFE ACTIVATES MYSTERY FAMILY TRUST.
Helena called.
“Do not use the north exit.”
“We weren't planning to.”
“Also, someone leaked your divorce filing.”
Willow closed her eyes.
“Of course they did.”
“The affair story is everywhere.”
“Eli?”
“He posted a video with his husband.”
Willow blinked.
“What?”
“He said, and I quote loosely, that he is flattered by the imagination but very happily married to a man named Marcus.”
Despite herself, Willow smiled.
“How bad is it?”
“The affair claim is collapsing.”
“What replaced it?”
Helena hesitated.
“Your gallery finances.”
Willow's smile disappeared.
“What about them?”
“They're saying Sterling money kept the gallery alive.”
“Lucas invested in the building through a marital asset account.”
“I know.”
“They're calling it proof you benefited from the family you're attacking.”
Willow leaned against the lobby wall.
Richard's strategy was becoming obvious.
If one accusation failed, another arrived before the public could process the first.
Leah took the phone.
“Helena, do you have the original gallery capitalization documents?”
“Yes.”
“Send them.”
Willow looked through the glass doors at reporters.
“Maybe we should stop responding.”
Leah returned the phone.
“Eventually.”
“Not yet?”
“Not while they are trying to establish you as dishonest before the hearing.”
Michael joined them.
“Car is downstairs.”
They used a service elevator to the parking garage.
Halfway down, Michael's phone rang.
He answered.
“Donovan.”
His face changed.
“When?”
Willow watched him.
“Is she okay?”
His eyes hardened.
“I'm coming.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?”
“Amanda's missing.”
Willow's blood ran cold.
“What?”
“The hotel security detail went to her room after she missed a call with Leah.”
“Her room was empty.”
“Maybe she left.”
“Her suitcase is still there.”
Leah immediately called Amanda.
Straight to voicemail.
She called Marion's attorney.
No answer.
Willow's chest tightened.
“Where's Marion?”
Michael looked at her.
“Same hotel.”
Leah called again.
This time the attorney answered.
“Where is Marion?” Leah asked without greeting.
She listened.
Her expression became sharp.
“When did she leave?”
Willow grabbed the railing inside the elevator.
Leah ended the call.
“Marion left fifteen minutes ago.”
“With Amanda?”
“Nobody saw.”
Michael swore.
The elevator doors opened into the garage.
Their driver waited beside a black sedan.
Michael stopped before approaching it.
“What?” Willow asked.
He pointed beneath the rear wheel.
A dark puddle spread across the concrete.
The driver crouched.
“Brake fluid.”
Leah went still.
“Do not touch the car.”
Michael looked around the garage.
A security camera above the exit had been turned toward the ceiling.
Willow's skin prickled.
Someone had known which car they would use.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A text.
STOP DIGGING OR THE NEXT WOMAN DOESN'T WALK AWAY.
Willow showed it to Leah.
Michael's face darkened.
Leah called the federal agent upstairs.
“We have an active threat and possible vehicle tampering in the south garage.”
Willow stared at the message.
The next woman.
Amanda.
Marion.
Maybe her.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time it was a photograph.
Amanda sat in the passenger seat of a car.
Her face was pale.
She was looking toward the camera.
Beside her was Marion Sterling.
The image was close enough to show both women clearly.
Under it was one sentence.
ASK MICHAEL WHAT CLAIRE DID WITH PAGE 47.
Willow turned toward her father.
“What is page forty-seven?”
Michael stared at the screen.
For the first time since the ballroom, he looked genuinely afraid.
“I don't know.”
Willow's eyes narrowed.
“Dad.”
“I swear to you.”
Leah looked between them.
“Then somebody thinks you do.”
May you like
A third message arrived.
YOU HAVE ONE HOUR.
