Chapter 12
“Why would I be a consultant?”
“Because of your background.”
Claire looked down at her hands.
Before marrying Adrian, she had worked as an architectural conservator. Her specialty was historic residential properties—old homes that required patience, research, and respect for what had survived. She had left the firm after the wedding because Adrian told her the travel and irregular hours were incompatible with his life.
He had said it would only be temporary.
Then one month became a year, and a year became three.
“What kind of restoration was Lake Briar?” she asked.
“According to the records, the house had been neglected. The work involved stabilizing the structure, preserving original woodwork, and converting part of the property into a private archive.”
“An archive of what?”
Daniel opened another folder.
“Moretti family records. Business documents, photographs, correspondence, and estate papers.”
“Why would my name be connected to that?”
“I don’t know.”
The room felt suddenly too warm.
Claire remembered Adrian’s study: the locked cabinets, the old ledgers, the photographs of men whose names appeared on buildings and foundations throughout Chicago. She had never been permitted to look inside the cabinets. Whenever she asked, Adrian said they contained family history and nothing more.
Perhaps he had believed she would not be interested.
Or perhaps he had known she would be.
Daniel continued. “There is also a separate account associated with the property.”
Claire looked up.
“An account?”
“Maintenance and preservation funds. It was opened in your name.”
“How much?”
Daniel hesitated. “The current balance is approximately two hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
Claire could not speak.
The figure seemed detached from reality, like a number printed in a newspaper.
“Does Adrian control it?”
“Not directly. The account requires your authorization for withdrawals. However, the original banking documents list Adrian as an administrative contact.”
“So he could see it.”
“He could receive statements.”
Claire leaned back.
All those years, Adrian had told her she was too impulsive with money. He had encouraged her to use his accounts for household expenses while keeping her own savings separate. She had accepted because it had seemed practical.
Now she wondered whether he had been protecting her from something—or protecting himself from questions.
“Can we freeze the account?” she asked.
“It is already secure. I’ve notified the bank that you are disputing the supporting documents.”
“Disputing?”
“You have every reason to question them. But I need you to be careful. Until we know who prepared the documents and under what circumstances, do not accuse anyone in writing.”