Chapter 6 - THE DAUGHTER HE COULD CONTROL
By morning, Arthur had released a statement.
He described Celeste as fragile.
He called the ballroom incident an unfortunate misunderstanding.
He said his family was cooperating with authorities while asking the public to respect his daughter’s long struggle with psychological difficulties.
Celeste read it twice.
Then she put the phone down.
“He still thinks that will work.”
Nora sat across from her.
“It will work on some people.”
“I know.”
That was the worst part.
A lie didn’t need to convince everyone.
Only enough people to make the truth sound debatable.
Brooks arrived with news about the break-in. Investigators had identified the SUV as a vehicle leased by Warren Field Systems.
Julian claimed it had been used without his knowledge.
Arthur claimed he knew nothing.
Everyone, apparently, had hired people who behaved badly without ever being told.
Then Vivian called.
Celeste watched the name on the screen.
Nora shook her head.
Celeste answered on speaker.
“What do you want?”
“Dad says you’re trying to destroy him.”
“What do you say?”
Silence.
Then, “I didn’t know.”
“About which part?”
Vivian inhaled sharply.
“The military thing. The scars.”
“You didn’t need my service record to know tearing someone’s clothes off was wrong.”
“I was angry.”
“You were entertained.”
That landed.
Celeste heard it in the silence.
“Julian said you came to the gala to threaten Dad,” Vivian said. “He said you wanted money.”
“Did I ask anyone for money?”
“No.”
“What did I say to you before you grabbed me?”
Another pause.
Celeste remembered perfectly.
Vivian had told her to leave.
Celeste had said she would, after speaking to her father.
That was all.
“I’m sorry,” Vivian whispered.
Celeste closed her eyes.
“Being sorry doesn’t make you safe for me.”
“Wait. There’s something—”
A door opened on Vivian’s end.
Her voice changed.
“I have to go.”
The line went dead.
A minute later, a photograph arrived.
An old envelope addressed to Celeste.
Then another.
And another.
All from Thomas Reed.
All stamped years earlier.
Beneath them, Vivian had typed:
They were in Dad’s locked desk.
Celeste looked at Reed, standing by the window.
“He kept them.”
The admiral didn’t speak.
Another message appeared.
There’s a folder with your name on it.
May you like
Then:
Why does Dad have hospital forms saying you can’t make your own decisions?
