Chapter 2
Walsh.
The name hit before the memory fully arrived.
“Your last name is Walsh.”
Erin nodded.
“Yes.”
“What was your father’s name?”
Her face changed.
“Daniel.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
Daniel Walsh.
My father’s driver.
My mother’s shadow whenever she left the estate.
The man who carried me out of a burning restaurant when I was eleven.
The man who died eight years ago during an ambush meant for my father.
I stared at Erin.
“How old were you when he died?”
“Seventeen.”
“And your sister?”
“Two.”
My hands became cold.
My father had stood at Daniel’s funeral and promised publicly that his daughters would never need to ask this family for anything.
Never.
I remembered the exact words.
A Bellandi might forget a debt.
A Rinaldi does not.
Apparently somebody had.
“What support did you receive after his death?”
Erin looked confused.
“Support?”
There it was.
Nothing.
I felt anger begin forming somewhere quiet.
“My father arranged monthly support for Daniel’s daughters.”
Her face went pale.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No one ever sent us anything.”
I looked toward the ballroom entrance.
Celeste was gone.
Of course.
“Who raised you?”
“My mother until she died four years ago. Then me.”
“And your sister?”
“Grace.”
Ten years old.
Dental problems bad enough that Erin was willing to humiliate herself in front of a ballroom because ten thousand dollars sounded like rescue.
I looked at the cash envelope.
“Did Celeste know your name before tonight?”
Erin hesitated.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She recognized it when I served her table.”
That was not enough.
“How?”
Erin swallowed.
“I applied through the Vaughn office.”
My eyes sharpened.
Celeste’s father, Charles Vaughn, had supervised the relief fund for my father.
For twelve years.
Even after my father stepped back.
I had never questioned it because the fund handled old family obligations, not operational business.
A mistake.
“What happened after you applied?”
“Someone called me.”
“Who?”
“A woman from the office.”
“What did she say?”
“That Daniel Walsh had been removed from the protected-family list.”
“Why?”
Erin’s lip trembled.
“They said he died owing the Rinaldis money.”
I stared at her.
Daniel Walsh died taking bullets meant for my father.
May you like
Somebody had turned a dead loyal man into a debtor.
And his daughters had been paying that lie ever since.
