“And these people?” you asked, gesturing sharply.
“They protect what remains,” Helena said. “And sometimes her.”
You laughed bitterly. “From who?”
No one answered immediately.
That was answer enough.
Celia clasped her hands to stop their trembling. “There have been threats. Lawsuits. Attempts to force transfers. There was a break-in three years ago. A poisoning attempt against one of my accountants. We live with layers now. Security, compartmentalization, limited disclosure.”
You felt sick.
You had walked into this thinking the town’s opinion was the obstacle. Thinking the main scandal was age and money and social ridicule. Meanwhile, you had apparently been standing at the edge of something far larger, older, and more lethal than gossip.
“Why marry me?” you asked, and heard the rawness in your own voice. “If all this is real, why drag me into it?”
That question broke whatever fragile restraint she had left.
“Because I loved you,” Celia said.
The words came out fierce, almost angry.
See more on the next page
Leave a Comment