Chapter 3: What My Husband Left Behind
Dashiell stared at his wife as though he had never seen her before.
"You opened what?""
Harlow shook her head.
"Nothing. I didn't mean that.""
"Then what did you mean?""
"You're twisting my words!""
Victor stepped closer.
"Mrs. Bellmont, we need to secure that key.""
I slipped it into my purse.
"No.""
Victor looked surprised.
"Ma'am?""
"My husband's property will not disappear into another investigation without me present.""
"That's understandable. But I have to follow hotel procedures.""
"Then follow them with me standing beside you.""
Andre nodded.
"I'll accompany you too.""
Harlow let out an impatient breath.
"This is ridiculous. Dashiell, let's go home.""
He didn't move.
"Not until you explain what happened.""
She stared at him.
"You're choosing your mother over your wife?""
"I'm asking you a question.""
"And I'm telling you this entire thing is absurd!""
Her voice rose until several guests turned around.
I had seen this performance before.
Harlow had a talent for making herself the victim whenever somebody asked her to account for her behavior.
But tonight, her usual tricks weren't working.
Victor escorted us downstairs.
The hotel corridors were nearly empty. Most of the staff were preparing the midnight celebration.
Andre led us toward the private wine cellar.
The smell reached me before we entered.
Old oak.
Dust.
Cold stone.
And the faint sweetness of wine aging in darkness.
Edward used to bring me here when he was alive.
He loved showing me the collection, even though I knew very little about wine.
He would stand in front of the shelves and explain the history of each bottle.
"Every bottle has a story, Corinthia.""
I would laugh.
"And what is yours?""
He would kiss my forehead.
"Mine is standing right here.""
I swallowed the memory.
The cellar door opened.
Victor entered first, followed by Andre.
Harlow walked behind Dashiell with her arms folded.
"Can we hurry this up?"" she asked.
"I have a ruined dress and a husband who apparently thinks I'm a criminal.""
Nobody answered.
Andre led us toward a narrow wooden cabinet at the far end of the cellar.
It was built into the wall behind the oldest wine racks.
Edward had always kept that cabinet locked.
I remembered asking him about it once.
He had said it contained private documents.
I had never pushed.
Andre pointed to the lock.
"That's the cabinet.""
I took out the key.
It fitted perfectly.
The lock turned with a soft click.
Inside were three shelves.
The top shelf held several old photographs.
The middle shelf contained a leather-bound journal.
The bottom shelf was empty except for a small velvet box.
I reached for the journal.
My husband's handwriting covered the first page.
My throat tightened.
"Edward...""
Dashiell moved beside me.
"Mom, what's that?""
"Your father's journal.""
I opened it carefully.
The first few pages contained ordinary notes about wine purchases and cellar maintenance.
Then I found an entry dated six months before Edward died.
November 14.
The transfer has been arranged. The 1961 Latour is not the most valuable thing in this cabinet. The documents beneath it are.
I stopped reading.
"What documents?"" Victor asked.
I turned the page.
There was another entry.
If anything happens to me, Corinthia must receive the sealed envelope. Dashiell is not to be involved until she has read everything.
My son stepped backward.
"Why wouldn't Dad want me involved?""
I didn't answer.
I kept reading.
I love my son, but he has allowed people to make decisions for him. I will not allow someone else to take what belongs to Corinthia.
Harlow laughed nervously.
"Well, that's dramatic.""
I turned toward her.
"Did you read this?""
"No.""
"Then why are you nervous?""
"I'm not nervous!""
Victor examined the shelves.
"There's an empty space here.""
Andre pointed to the bottom.
"The velvet box is missing its contents.""
I lifted the box.
A folded piece of paper remained inside.
It was addressed to me.
My name was written in Edward's familiar handwriting.
I unfolded it.
My dearest Corinthia,
If you are reading this, I have probably run out of time to explain something I should have told you years ago.
My eyes blurred.
I continued.
The Meridian was never simply a hotel investment. I purchased a controlling interest in the property through Bellmont Holdings. I arranged the ownership so that you would receive it without having to fight anyone for it.
I stopped breathing for a moment.
The Meridian?
The hotel where we were standing?
I read the next paragraph.
There is one condition. The ownership documents are held in a sealed trust. The trustee must verify your identity before releasing them.
I looked at Andre.
He was staring at me.
"Mrs. Bellmont, did you know your husband owned part of the hotel?""
"No.""
Victor cleared his throat.
"Part of it?""
Andre shook his head slowly.
"Not part, sir.""
He looked at me.
"All of it.""
Dashiell stared at him.
"That's impossible.""
Andre lowered his eyes.
"Mr. Edward Bellmont was the principal owner of the Meridian Group. His holdings were placed in a private trust after his death.""
I felt the floor shift beneath me.
My husband had owned the building where we had just celebrated New Year's Eve.
The staff.
The wine cellar.
The ballroom.
The entire hotel.
And apparently, the truth had been hidden from me.
Harlow suddenly became very interested in the journal.
"That doesn't mean anything," she said.
I turned another page.
There was a photograph.
Edward stood beside a younger man in front of the Meridian's original entrance.
The younger man was Dashiell.
On the back, Edward had written:
My son, who deserves to inherit responsibility, not merely money.
Dashiell picked up the photograph.
"Why would Dad write that?""
I closed the journal.
"Maybe because he knew something we didn't.""
Harlow stepped toward me.
"Give me the documents.""
I looked at her.
"Excuse me?""
She pointed toward the journal.
"Those papers belong to the family.""
"They belong to me.""
"You're sixty-five. You don't understand how complicated these things are.""
I stared at her.
Then I slowly smiled.
"You're right about one thing, Harlow.""
She relaxed slightly.
"What?""
"I don't understand why you thought destroying my wine tower would help you steal my husband's property.""
Her face drained of color.
Victor looked at Andre.
Andre quietly closed the cellar door.
And then he said something none of us expected.
"Mrs. Bellmont, there's another problem.""
He pointed toward the empty space beneath the cabinet.
"The original ownership documents were removed before tonight.""
I looked at Harlow.
She looked at Dashiell.
May you like
And my son finally understood that his wife hadn't simply been behaving badly.
She had been planning something.
