Chapter 2 - The Will That Lied
Sebastian did not speak for the first six blocks after leaving the Green Mill.
Norah let him have the silence.
She had learned something important during years of restoration work: forcing pressure into old fractures only widened them.
Beside her, Sebastian held the photograph of Mirella Romano and Leonard Collins beneath the passing city lights.
His mother looked younger than Norah expected.
Beautiful.
Dark hair pinned loosely.
One hand resting on the black velvet tray that held the original necklace.
Leonard stood beside her in the leather apron Norah remembered from childhood.
Her father.
Smiling.
That hurt.
He had not smiled much during the last years of his life.
“What did his will say?” Norah asked.
Sebastian kept looking at the photograph.
“My father’s?”
“Yes.”
“He left most legitimate assets divided between me and my sister.”
“You have a sister.”
“Yes.”
“Older?”
“Younger.”
“Where is she?”
“Boston.”
“Does she know about the necklace?”
“No.”
“You plan to tell her?”
“Yes.”
Norah waited.
“Eventually.”
She sighed.
“Your family really loves delaying important conversations.”
Sebastian looked at her.
“You have known me less than twenty-four hours.”
“I’ve learned quickly.”
Luca made a sound from the front seat.
Sebastian glanced at him.
“Something funny?”
“No, boss.”
Norah saw Luca’s mouth twitch in the mirror.
Good.
At least one person in Sebastian’s organization remained biologically capable of amusement.
“What else did the will say?” she asked.
Sebastian turned back to the photo.
“Three specific instructions.”
“Necklace first.”
“Yes.”
“Second?”
“Open my mother’s lake house.”
“Closed how long?”
“Seventeen years.”
Norah stared.
“That is not healthy estate management.”
“It remained under trust.”
“Third?”
Sebastian hesitated.
“Find the woman who repaired the necklace.”
Norah stopped breathing.
“What?”
Luca looked back.
Sebastian’s gaze held hers.
“My father’s handwritten codicil named Laurent & Vale. It said the piece should be given to the basement restoration bench. If the woman there discovered the flaw, I was to bring her to the lake house.”
Norah felt cold.
“The woman.”
“Yes.”
“Not my name.”
“No.”
“Did your father know who worked there?”
“I assumed he did not.”
“Bad assumption.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me last night?”
“Because until you broke the clasp, I thought the instruction was another one of his games.”
“And after?”
“You walked out.”
“That has not stopped you from speaking before.”
His jaw moved.
Fair.
Norah turned toward the rain-covered window.
Her job at Laurent & Vale had begun four years ago.
Her father died eight years ago.
Sebastian’s father could not have known, seventeen years ago, that she would someday sit at that basement bench.
Unless the instruction was written recently.
“How old is the codicil?”
“Dated three months ago.”
She looked at him sharply.
“Your father knew I worked there.”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he know my father?”
“He never mentioned him.”
“That means nothing.”
“I know.”
Norah looked at the key.
Small.
Brass.
Stamped with a number:
314.
“What do you think this opens?”
Sebastian answered immediately.
“Deposit box.”
“Bank?”
“Likely.”
“Which one?”
“No marking.”
Luca spoke.
“Could be a station locker.”
Norah looked at him.
“You do talk.”
“Sometimes.”
Sebastian ignored both of them.
“Lake house first.”
“No.”
He turned.
“What?”
“We go to Laurent & Vale.”
“No.”
“Again with this.”
“My father’s will explicitly sends us to the lake house.”
“My father’s note explicitly says not to trust your father’s will.”
Silence.
Luca looked straight ahead.
Norah continued.
“Which dead man wins?”
Sebastian’s mouth almost twitched.
“Mine owned more property.”
“That is not a logical standard.”
“It is a family standard.”
“Then your family standards are defective.”
“Yes.”
That answer stopped her.
He looked back at the photograph.
“So we do both.”
“Store first.”
“Lake house first.”
“You’re impossible.”
“So are you.”
Luca cleared his throat.
“There is a third option.”
They both looked at him.
“Split.”
Sebastian said, “No.”
Norah said, “Absolutely not.”
Luca nodded.
“Good talk.”
They went to Laurent & Vale.
The store had not opened.
Julian’s Mercedes was already in the underground garage.
Norah entered through the employee door using her key card.
Green light.
Still employed.
For now.
Sebastian and Luca followed.
Norah turned.
“Luca waits upstairs.”
Luca sighed.
“Again?”
“You are very large.”
“I’ve heard.”
“You make people nervous.”
“So does he.”
He pointed at Sebastian.
Norah considered.
“True.”
Sebastian said, “He comes.”
She did not waste time arguing.
The basement workshop was empty.
Six benches.
Individual lamps.
Ultrasonic cleaners.
Locked cabinets.
Her own station sat third from the left.
Exactly as she left it.
Except for one thing.
Her documentation folder was gone.
Norah stopped.
“What?”
Sebastian followed her gaze.
“The intake images.”
“Missing?”
“Yes.”
“I had copies of every microscopic scan.”
“Digital?”
“And printed.”
She opened the secure drive.
Empty.
Password accepted.
Folder removed.
Not corrupted.
Deleted.
“Julian.”
Sebastian’s voice went cold.
Norah looked toward the stairs.
“Maybe.”
“Who else has access?”
“Store owner. IT. security manager.”
“Names.”
“Not yet.”
He stared.
She stared back.
“I am not giving you a list of civilians to terrify before I know who did this.”
Luca looked offended.
“We don’t terrify civilians.”
Norah looked at him.
“You locked me in a jewelry store last night.”
“That was controlled containment.”
Sebastian turned toward Luca.
“Stop helping.”
Norah almost laughed.
Footsteps sounded upstairs.
Julian.
He came down.
Saw Sebastian.
Stopped.
Then saw Norah.
His face changed.
Not surprise.
Fear.
“You came back.”
Norah leaned against the bench.
“I work here.”
“Not today.”
“Why?”
“I suspended you.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
“By email?”
“Yes.”
“My phone has been off.”
Julian looked toward Sebastian.
“This is not appropriate.”
Sebastian said, “What happened to her records?”
Julian froze.
Too long.
Norah saw it.
So did Sebastian.
“I don’t know.”
“Wrong,” Norah said.
Julian turned.
“What?”
“That was too slow.”
His face tightened.
“You broke a Romano heirloom.”
“A replica.”
“You don’t know that conclusively.”
“Yes, I do.”
Sebastian placed the evidence sleeve containing the black polymer film on the bench.
Julian’s face lost color.
There.
Norah’s stomach dropped.
“You know what that is.”
“No.”
“Another bad lie.”
Sebastian stepped closer.
“Julian.”
The manager backed into a cabinet.
“I didn’t make it.”
Nobody had asked.
Norah felt the room sharpen.
“Make what?”
Julian closed his eyes.
Sebastian’s voice became quieter.
“The necklace.”
Julian looked at him.
“My father did.”
Norah went still.
“Your father?”
“Henri Vale.”
Founder of Laurent & Vale.
Dead eleven years.
Sebastian’s face hardened.
“Why?”
Julian rubbed both hands over his face.
“I don’t know everything.”
“Start with what you do.”
Julian looked at Norah.
“Your father brought him the original.”
“What?”
“Seventeen years ago.”
Norah’s pulse hammered.
“He asked Henri to produce a copy.”
“Why?”
“He said Mirella Romano needed the original hidden.”
Sebastian’s jaw tightened.
“Hidden where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Yes.”
Julian’s voice broke.
“My father never told me where. He told me if anyone came asking, the copy was supposed to buy time.”
“Time for what?”
“I don’t know.”
Norah held up the key.
Julian’s eyes widened.
“You found that.”
“You recognize it.”
“Yes.”
“What does it open?”
Julian stared at Sebastian.
Then Norah.
“Cabinet 314.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
Silence.
Norah looked around the basement.
“There is no cabinet 314.”
“Not anymore.”
Julian walked to the far wall.
A display case filled with old tools.
He removed two shelves.
Behind them, embedded in brick, was a narrow steel door painted the same color as the wall.
Number:
314.
Norah stared.
“How long has that been there?”
“Before I was born.”
Julian entered a code.
Nothing.
“Mechanical key.”
Norah inserted the brass key.
Turned.
The lock opened.
Inside was a single velvet box.
Sebastian stepped forward.
Norah stopped him.
“My key.”
“My mother’s necklace.”
“Our fathers’ conspiracy.”
Julian whispered, “Please don’t open it.”
They both turned.
His face had gone white.
“Why?”
Julian swallowed.
“Because my father said if cabinet 314 was ever opened, someone would die.”
Sebastian’s expression did not change.
“Someone already did.”
Norah opened the box.
Inside was no necklace.
Only a cassette tape.
One envelope.
And a tiny ruby wrapped in tissue.
The ruby was engraved on the back.
M.R.
Mirella Romano.
Sebastian reached for it.
Norah let him.
His hand closed around the stone.
Then she opened the envelope.
One page.
Leonard’s handwriting.
SEBASTIAN,
IF YOU ARE READING THIS, YOUR FATHER IS DEAD AND MIRELLA’S PLAN FAILED.
THE ORIGINAL NECKLACE IS NOT JEWELRY ANYMORE.
IT IS EVIDENCE.
DO NOT TAKE THE TAPE TO THE LAKE HOUSE.
DO NOT TRUST JULIAN UNTIL HE TELLS YOU WHO HIS MOTHER WAS.
Norah stopped.
Julian made a sound.
Sebastian looked at him.
“Who was your mother?”
Julian backed away.
“No.”
Sebastian stepped closer.
“Who?”
Julian looked at Norah.
Not Sebastian.
Norah.
Then he whispered:
“Mirella Romano.”
The room went silent.
Sebastian stared at him.
Julian Vale.
The jewelry store manager.
Nineteen years old when Mirella died.
“Impossible.”
Julian’s eyes filled.
“She was my mother too.”
Sebastian did not move.
Norah understood before either man said it aloud.
Julian was not simply connected to the Romano necklace.
May you like
He was Sebastian’s half-brother.
And seventeen years after Mirella Romano died, her two sons were standing in the basement where the evidence had been waiting for both of them.
