Chapter 4
The missing object was a signet.
Not mine.
Not Hale.
Waverly.
My father had commissioned a second family ring fifteen years ago.
No one knew why.
The mold remained in the room.
The ring did not.
According to the tape, the second signet was designed to represent shared authority over a private coalition my father was building with Victor Hale and Andrew Waverly.
Not legal ownership.
Not paperwork.
Recognition.
Old men loved symbols because symbols let them bypass explanation.
Whoever wore the second ring could call certain captains together and be treated as speaking with my father’s approval.
Dangerous.
Stupid.
Very him.
He changed his mind before the arrangement became permanent.
Why?
Because Victor Hale used the ring without permission.
Once.
To redirect three Waverly crews during a dispute.
Nobody died.
But men almost did.
My father took the ring back.
Or thought he did.
Later he discovered Victor had made a copy.
That copy disappeared.
The empty black case had held the mold impression proving it existed.
Someone stole that too.
I stopped the tape.
Looked at Victoria.
“Your father kept the duplicate.”
Her eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Finally.
“Where is it?”
She looked at Elias.
Again.
Always Elias.
My cousin spoke.
“My father had it last.”
That surprised me.
Andrew Waverly had taken the duplicate from Victor to stop him using it again.
Then Andrew died.
Car crash.
Eleven years ago.
No mystery attached.
Until now.
“Did my father think Andrew died because of the ring?”
Elias shook his head.
“No.”
Good.
Not every old death needed to become murder.
Andrew died in an accident.
But before that, he hid the ring somewhere.
Told Elias only one thing.
Never let Hale wear Waverly authority again.
I looked at my cousin.
“So why help Victoria?”
His face tightened.
“Because your father never gave my branch anything after mine died.”
There.
Resentment.
Simple.
Human.
Elias believed Andrew sacrificed his relationship with Victor Hale to protect Dominic’s father.
Then died.
My father kept control.
Dominic inherited.
Elias got an advisory chair and gratitude.
Nothing symbolic.
Nothing permanent.
Victoria found that wound.
She promised something.
“What?”
I asked.
Elias laughed bitterly.
“A seat that couldn’t be taken away.”
Of course.
My marriage to Victoria would create a Hale-Waverly bridge.
Elias would recover the second signet.
At the engagement dinner, after our marriage announcement, he planned to introduce the old coalition again.
Not overthrow me.
May you like
Something worse in a quieter way.
Create a second center of loyalty inside my own house.
