Chapter 6 - Allies in Unexpected Places
I didn't follow them.
Instead, I took a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter’s silver tray, took a small sip, and walked toward the small sitting room adjacent to the ladies' lounge.
My phone buzzed in my clutch.
**From:** *Rachel Sterling (8:14 p.m.)*
**Message:** *Subpoenas served on Wilmington branch at 4:00 p.m. Delaware court granted the emergency freeze on Monacan Capital and Tidewater LLC twenty minutes ago. Check your email. We have the ledger.*
I leaned against the damask wallpaper of the empty sitting room, tapped the secure link Rachel had sent, and opened the PDF attachment.
The document was an internal transfer ledger from Delaware Corporate Trust.
It showed five transfers made over the past twelve months from *Monacan Capital LLC* into a secondary trust account registered in the Bahamas.
The beneficiary of that trust was not Colin Miller.
The beneficiary was *Elena Vance.*
My breath caught in my throat.
*He wasn't hiding money from me to keep it for himself,* I realized, the pieces finally snapping together with sickening precision. *He was funneling it to her.*
Colin hadn't just been having an affair. Elena Vance had been using him. She had convinced him that they were pooling capital to launch their own breakaway firm once Colin made partner—using stolen distributions from Henderson's firm to seed an operation that would destroy Arthur Vance’s old enemies. Colin thought he was the mastermind; in reality, he was Elena Vance’s errand boy, embezzling funds under his own signature while she held the offshore accounts in her name.
"Clara?"
A soft, hesitant voice spoke behind me.
I spun around, locking my phone screen with a quick click.
Standing in the doorway of the sitting room was Celia Benton—Miles's new wife. She was wearing a pale pink lace dress, her blonde hair pulled back, holding a small silver evening purse with both hands.
"Celia," I said, my voice automatically tightening into a defensive guard. "I thought you were in St. Lucia."
"We were supposed to leave on Monday," Celia whispered, stepping inside and quietly closing the heavy mahogany door behind her. "Miles got food poisoning. We had to delay the flight until tomorrow morning. When Miles heard Henderson was hosting this, he insisted we come show our faces."
She looked pale. Her hands were trembling slightly against the clasp of her purse.
"Clara... I need to tell you something," Celia said, her eyes welling with sudden tears. "About Saturday. About the wedding."
I watched her carefully. "What about Saturday?"
"I saw the photographer's raw proof gallery this afternoon," Celia said, a tear spilling over her lower lid. "Julianna sent the full set to my personal account so I could start the album layout. I saw... I saw the conservatory pictures."
The room went dead silent.
"Clara, I am so sorry," Celia choked out, covering her mouth with one hand. "I swear to God, Miles didn't know. Miles didn't have an anxiety attack about his vows. Colin never came to the groom's suite between six and seven. Colin was with Elena the entire time. He used Miles's name as an excuse to leave you with the babies."
"I know, Celia," I said gently.
Celia blinked, lowering her hand. "You... you know?"
"I saw the gallery on Monday," I said. "And I know Colin had the catering staff box my dinner so I would take the kids home early."
Celia’s face drained of what little color it had left. "He... he what?"
"He told Hannah I was overwhelmed and asked her to clear my plate so the table would be empty for the dessert course."
"That bastard," Celia breathed, her sadness instantly hardening into pure, unadulterated fury. "That absolute, arrogant bastard. At my wedding. In front of our families."
She stepped forward, reaching into her purse and pulling out a small white flash drive.
"What is that?" I asked.
"The vineyard’s security manager is my second cousin," Celia said, thrusting the drive into my hand. "After I saw the photographs, I called him. I told him someone had stolen an envelope of cash from the bridal suite between six and eight p.m. and I needed the hallway and terrace footage from the north wing."
I looked down at the plastic drive in my palm.
"What's on it?"
"The north terrace suites," Celia said, her voice dropping to a fierce, trembling whisper. "At seven-fifteen. After you left the parking lot. Colin and Elena didn't just kiss in the conservatory, Clara. They spent forty-five minutes in Suite 4 before he came back down for the cake cutting. It has timestamps, facial recognition, everything. Take it."
I looked up at Celia. Her eyes were burning with that particular brand of solidarity that only women understand—the fury of seeing another woman humiliated and deciding, without hesitation, that the line has been crossed.
"Why are you giving this to me?" I asked. "Colin is Miles's best friend."
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"Miles doesn't know what loyalty is if he thinks being Colin Miller's friend means covering for this," Celia said coldly. "You brought three eighteen-month-old babies to my wedding because your husband wanted to look like a family man. You didn't even get to eat a piece of bread. Burn him to the ground, Clara."
***
