Chapter 2 - THE ROOM HE DIDN’T WANT ME TO OPEN
I should have walked straight through the front door.
Instead, I looked at the master keys.
Derek knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Give those back.”
“Why?”
Brenda descended one step.
“Chloe, don’t make this uglier.”
That sentence decided it.
I turned my suitcase toward the staircase.
Derek moved forward.
His cousin Michael stepped between us.
“Man, stop.”
It was the first time anyone in the family had openly challenged him.
Derek stared at Michael.
“Move.”
“She wants to leave.”
“This isn’t your marriage.”
“No. But everybody just watched you put your hands on her.”
The laughter from brunch had died completely.
I climbed the stairs.
Brenda followed.
“Chloe.”
“Which key opens Charles’s study?”
Charles Hale had been Derek’s father.
He died eighteen months earlier.
His office remained untouched at the end of the upstairs hall because Brenda treated it like a shrine.
Derek’s reaction confirmed I had chosen the right room.
“You have no business in there.”
“Then why do you care?”
“Because it’s private family property.”
“I became family yesterday, remember?”
Brenda’s face tightened.
I tried two keys.
The third opened the study.
The room smelled of leather, dust, and the faint cigar smoke that had somehow survived Charles.
Derek reached the doorway just as I opened the desk cabinet.
“Get out.”
“Did your father handle the South Harbor loan?”
His eyes flickered.
That was enough.
South Harbor Capital was the lender named on the document bearing my false signature.
“Where did you hear that name?”
I opened my suitcase and removed the copy.
Derek stopped moving.
Brenda whispered:
“Where did you get that?”
“Your printer.”
“It was a draft,” Derek said.
“A draft with my signature.”
“You signed documents last month.”
“Not this one.”
“You probably forgot.”
I almost laughed.
That was a terrible answer to give a woman whose job involved authentication controls.
“The signature is wrong.”
Brenda’s gaze shifted toward Derek.
Not surprise.
Warning.
“What does South Harbor have to do with this family?”
Derek held out his hand.
“Give me the paper and we’ll talk downstairs.”
“No.”
“Chloe.”
“I’m leaving.”
He lowered his voice.
“You leave now, you blow up something you don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
He did not.
I opened the desk drawer.
Inside were property schedules, old tax files, and several lender notices.
One line appeared repeatedly.
Hale Hospitality Holdings.
Derek’s family owned three boutique hotels, two wedding venues, and the mansion where we stood.
I had always been told the business was thriving.
The notices said otherwise.
Past due.
Covenant deficiency.
Additional collateral required.
One document listed a proposed contribution from:
CHLOE MARSHALL HALE — PERSONAL LIQUID ASSETS: $1,250,000 ESTIMATED.
My stomach dropped.
I did not have $1.25 million in cash.
But I did have something Derek knew about.
A one-third interest in a commercial building my late father left to my sister and me in White Plains.
My share was worth roughly that amount.
Derek stood behind me.
“Now you understand why leaving isn’t simple.”
I turned.
“No.”
May you like
I held up the paper.
“Now I understand why marrying me mattered so much.”
