Chapter 1
Vincent did not look at the notebook again until Lila stopped shaking.
He carried her into the nearest guest suite while two bodyguards remained with Grant on the pool terrace.
The engagement celebration effectively ended without an announcement.
Guests heard the crash.
Then they saw Vincent carrying his soaked daughter through the ballroom.
That was enough.
Lila’s cardigan clung to her arms.
Water ran from her dress onto Vincent’s suit.
She kept coughing even though she had swallowed very little water.
The estate physician arrived within minutes.
Her lungs sounded clear.
No head injury.
No serious bruising.
Only a red mark where Grant had struck her hand and another along her shoulder from hitting the pool edge.
Physically, she was fortunate.
Vincent sat beside her while a housekeeper wrapped her in towels.
“Why did you have the notebook?”
Lila looked toward the door.
Vincent saw the fear.
He stopped himself.
“You don’t have to tell me now.”
She held up one finger.
“I found it.”
“Okay.”
“Behind towels.”
Vincent waited.
“Pool house?”
She nodded.
“Did you know what was inside?”
“No.”
“Then why bring it to me?”
Lila looked down.
“Uncle Grant saw me.”
Vincent’s attention sharpened.
“What happened?”
“He said give it.”
“And?”
“I ran.”
“Why?”
Lila’s lower lip trembled.
“Because he got scary.”
That was enough.
Vincent did not ask another question.
His attorney, Claire Whitmore, arrived twenty minutes later.
She found Vincent in the adjoining sitting room with the wet notebook sealed inside a clear evidence bag.
“You handled it?”
“Yes.”
“Who else?”
“Lila.”
“Grant?”
“Presumably.”
Claire looked through the glass.
Grant’s attorney had already been called.
The cousin was claiming Vincent assaulted him without justification.
Claire sighed.
“You punched him through a bar.”
“He shoved my daughter into a pool.”
“I know.”
“He came back at me.”
“I know.”
“You sound irritated.”
“I’m irritated because facts do not become cleaner because your anger was understandable.”
Vincent stared at her.
Claire continued.
“Lila stays out of this as much as possible.”
“Agreed.”
“No relatives interviewing her.”
“Agreed.”
“No security men trying to ‘help her remember.’”
“Agreed.”
That answer seemed to surprise her.
Vincent looked toward the bedroom.
“She is four.”
“Good.”
Claire picked up the evidence bag.
“We preserve this properly.”
Vincent nodded.
Then his security chief, Michael Kane, entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We searched the pool cabana.”
Vincent waited.
Michael placed a photograph on the table.
Behind the towel stand was an empty leather portfolio.
Exactly the size of the blue notebook.
“Anything identifying?”
“No.”
“Prints?”
“Forensics will handle it.”
Claire looked at the photograph.
“Where was Grant before Lila found the notebook?”
Michael checked his notes.
“He attended a logistics meeting at the pool bar this afternoon.”
“With whom?”
“Three Bellacorte Freight executives.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
Bellacorte Freight was the company division connected to nearly every unexplained shipment code he had recognized.
The notebook had not accidentally appeared beside Grant at a family party.
May you like
Someone had brought company records to the terrace.
And Grant had been desperate enough to attack a child to get them back.
