Chapter Seven: Celeste’s Bargain
I met Celeste in a secure federal conference room.
She arrived in prison clothing, but somehow still carried herself like a woman entering a private club.
Her hair was pulled back.
Her face had lost weight.
Her confidence remained.
“You look better,” she said.
“You look honest.”
She smiled.
“Pain has improved your sense of humor.”
“I found the ledger.”
For the first time, her expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
“You found a device,” she said.
“I found your number system.”
Her fingers tightened together.
“You’ve always been smarter than Nathan.”
“You chose him because he wasn’t.”
“I chose him because ambitious men are predictable.”
“And cruel men?”
“Even more useful.”
I wanted to hate her simply.
Hatred would have been easier.
But Celeste was not chaotic.
She was methodical.
She had studied Nathan’s weaknesses and turned them into weapons.
The same way Nathan had studied mine.
“The code,” I said.
“What do I receive?”
“You don’t negotiate with me.”
“Your father will.”
“My father doesn’t need you.”
“He does if he wants the names inside that device.”
I leaned forward.
“You built insurance.”
“Of course.”
“In case Blackridge betrayed you?”
“In case everyone did.”
That answer contained more truth than anything else she had said.
Celeste wanted witness protection.
A reduced sentence.
A new identity.
Financial immunity for certain accounts.
Prosecutors would consider protection, but not immunity.
She refused.
Then I placed a photograph on the table.
It showed her younger brother, Adrian Monroe, leaving an apartment in Montreal.
He was alive.
Celeste’s composure cracked.
Blackridge had told her Adrian died years earlier.
In truth, they had hidden him and used his supposed death to control her.
My father’s investigators found him.
“He’s safe,” I said.
Celeste stared at the photograph.
“Where?”
“You don’t get that information.”
Her eyes filled, but no tears fell.
“What do you want?”
“The code. Every contact. Every safe location. Every name.”
“And Adrian?”
“He decides whether he wants to see you.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“It’s more choice than you gave me.”
She looked at me for a long time.
Then she spoke six numbers.
The cyber team entered them remotely.
The device unlocked.
Thousands of files appeared.
Payment records.
Audio logs.
Private contracts.
Blackmail material.
And one folder named VALE SUCCESSION.
Inside was a plan to assassinate my father.
The intended date was six weeks away.
The location was a charity summit in Washington.
May you like
Nathan had not been the final target.
He had only been the open door.
