Chapter 5 - THE FIRST WIFE
Celia Ward had married Gregory when he was twenty-nine.
Their marriage lasted eleven months.
Elaine told the story sitting on the edge of the bed with both hands wrapped around a paper coffee cup.
“At first, he adored her.”
I almost smiled.
Of course he had.
That was Gregory’s gift.
Attention so intense it felt like sunlight.
“He sent flowers every week,” Elaine continued.
“He bought her jewelry.”
“He told everyone she was brilliant.”
Then Celia began asking questions about Hartman Capital.
Gregory wanted her to sign documents.
She refused.
“He changed after that.”
I looked toward the newspaper clipping.
“Did he hit her?”
Elaine’s silence answered.
Ortiz asked the next question.
“What happened on the yacht?”
Elaine swallowed.
“Gregory said Celia drank too much and fell.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
The word came instantly.
“I knew my son.”
The sentence broke something inside her.
Elaine looked down.
“I knew what Martin had taught him.”
She pushed back the sleeve of her cardigan.
Old scars crossed her forearm.
Nothing dramatic.
Nothing theatrical.
Just pale reminders of injuries that had healed years before.
“Martin called it discipline.”
Her voice remained quiet.
“Gregory grew up watching it.”
I thought of the baseball bat.
This is how my dad kept my mom in line.
“Why didn’t you go to the police after Celia died?”
“I tried.”
Elaine opened a folder.
Inside was a copy of a statement.
She had written everything.
The threats.
The violence.
Her suspicions.
At the bottom was a note showing the complaint had been withdrawn.
“I didn’t withdraw it.”
“Who did?”
“Simon Pike.”
The family attorney.
My blood chilled.
“He told investigators I was emotionally unstable.”
Elaine gave a bitter laugh.
“Then Martin had a doctor confirm it.”
Ortiz took the document.
“Which doctor?”
“Dr. Nathan Bell.”
I knew the name.
He had attended our wedding.
He was one of Gregory’s closest family friends.
Elaine turned toward me.
“You were supposed to sign something tonight.”
“I found a forged transfer document.”
“That wasn’t enough.”
She shook her head.
“They needed the original authorization.”
“What authorization?”
“The Dalton proxy.”
My uncle’s company.
I stared at her.
Elaine explained.
My inherited shares were small in percentage but strategically important.
Hartman Capital had quietly been trying to acquire Dalton Maritime for nearly a year.
My uncle had resisted them before his death.
Because of how the shares were structured, my approval could determine whether certain defense and shipping contracts remained independent.
Gregory had never fallen in love with me by accident.
He had researched me.
Courted me.
Married me.
And when manipulation had failed to make me voluntarily sign away my shares, his family had moved to another plan.
Elaine reached into her suitcase.
“There’s more.”
She pulled out a photograph taken two weeks before my wedding.
Gregory stood outside a restaurant with Simon Pike and Martin Hartman.
Beside them was the physician from our wedding.
Dr. Bell.
They were smiling.
May you like
On the back, someone had written four words.
HONEYMOON IS THE DEADLINE.
