Chapter 2
I moved Alina and Lucy into the private club salon.
Lucy refused to release her mother.
Good.
I was not going to separate them to make questioning easier.
Ramona and Marcus remained outside under guard.
I sat opposite my wife.
The brass token rested between us.
“Start with your father.”
Alina looked down.
“He worked here.”
“At the polo club?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before I was born. Then again when I was little.”
“What did he do?”
“Stable work. Grounds. Horses. Whatever they gave him.”
Cheap blood.
The insult made sense now.
Not because it was true.
Because Ramona’s branch had been using class as a weapon for decades.
“My mother changed our surname after he died,” Alina continued. “Hart was his name. Castillo was hers.”
That explained why I never connected her to Daniel Hart.
I had heard the name as a child.
Always negatively.
Thief.
Drunk.
Stablehand who embarrassed the family.
I had never questioned it.
“How did you find the token?”
Alina had been helping the club manager organize old donor displays before today’s luncheon. One storage cabinet in the north tack room had jammed.
Inside the back panel was an old leather pouch.
The token was inside.
“So why did Ramona know?”
“She saw me holding it.”
“And?”
“She told me to give it to her.”
“You refused.”
Alina gave me a tired look.
“You married me for a reason.”
Almost smiled.
Almost.
“What happened next?”
Ramona began visiting the estate more often.
Then Marcus.
Small comments.
Questions about Lucy.
Whether Alina ever considered spending time away.
Whether marriage to me had become difficult.
“They were trying to make me say I was unhappy.”
I understood.
Build a story before creating the ending.
“Then yesterday Ramona told me I had until tonight to give her the token.”
“Or?”
Alina looked toward Lucy.
My daughter was drawing circles on the upholstery with one finger.
“She said I would leave this club one way or another.”
My jaw locked.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Silence.
Then:
“Because you always said Ramona was cruel but harmless.”
That landed.
I had.
More than once.
Family jokes.
Old habits.
Ramona hates everyone.
I had used personality to excuse warning signs because confronting relatives was inconvenient.
Alina continued.
“And because the first time I told you Marcus treated me like staff…”
I remembered.
I had laughed.
Told her Marcus treated everyone like staff.
My shame arrived cleanly.
“I was wrong.”
“Yes.”
No comfort.
Good.
Then the salon door opened.
An elderly man stood with one of my guards.
White hair.
Bent shoulders.
Still wearing old riding boots.
“Walter Quinn,” the guard said. “Former stablemaster.”
Walter looked at the token.
His face changed.
Then he looked at Alina.
“Daniel’s girl.”
She stood.
“You knew my father?”
Walter’s eyes filled.
“Knew him?”
May you like
He looked at me.
“Your father would be dead if Daniel Hart hadn’t pulled him off this field twenty-four years ago.”
