Chapter 12 - NO CLEAN HANDS
I wanted a villain.
One person.
One face.
It would’ve been easier.
Adrian.
Put all the rot inside him and walk away.
Real life rarely gives you that.
Celeste’s father had died six years earlier.
His archive still existed.
We searched it.
There were letters.
Internal memos.
A payment to Richard Pike.
Then one handwritten note:
ELIZABETH LINDEN REFUSES BUYOUT. R. PIKE SAYS HE CAN HANDLE SIGNATURE.
Elizabeth.
My mother.
I read it twice.
Celeste sat across from me.
“I’m sorry.”
I looked at her.
“Did your father know the signature would be forged?”
“I don’t know.”
The note suggested he did.
Maybe not directly.
Maybe deliberately.
That was the problem with rich families.
They used soft words for hard crimes.
Handle.
Resolve.
Facilitate.
Move forward.
Nobody wrote steal.
Nobody wrote forge.
Nobody wrote ruin another family.
Naomi said, “There’s enough here to reopen the old royalty claim.”
Celeste nodded.
“And I’ll support it.”
Her lawyer looked at her.
“That may expose Moreau to significant liability.”
“I know.”
Celeste didn’t hesitate.
I believed her in that moment.
Not because she was innocent.
She wasn’t responsible for her father.
But innocence wasn’t the question.
What mattered was what she did after learning the truth.
Adrian had taught me that.
Character isn’t what you didn’t know.
It’s what you do once you know.
Later that afternoon, Adrian’s attorney requested a meeting.
Naomi said no.
I said yes.
We met through glass.
He looked older.
Two days.
That was all it took.
No tailored suit.
No watch.
No assistants.
No audience to impress.
Just Adrian.
He picked up the phone.
“So.”
I picked up mine.
“So.”
“I assume you hate me.”
“I don’t have enough energy for hate.”
That hurt him.
Good.
He leaned closer.
“You think Celeste is your friend?”
“I think she told me the truth when it cost her something.”
“You really believe that?”
“More than I believe you.”
He smiled faintly.
“You always wanted people to be better than they are.”
“And you always assumed they were worse.”
“We were a good balance.”
“No. I was your cover.”
His smile disappeared.
He looked at me for a long time.
Then he said:
“I did love you.”
“Maybe.”
“I did.”
“You just loved yourself more.”
He looked away.
For the first time in eleven years, Adrian Vale had no comeback.
Then he said something unexpected.
“Graham killed your mother.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“He didn’t poison her. Don’t look at me like that.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Then what do you mean?”
“Your mother had a second treatment option.”
I stared.
“He convinced her insurer not to approve it.”
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Pressure.”
“Pressure for what?”
“Her signature.”
The room tilted.
Adrian leaned close to the glass.
“She refused to sell the Linden rights. Graham’s father started it. Graham finished it.”
My voice came out barely audible.
“And you knew?”
May you like
Adrian looked at me.
That was all the answer I needed.
