Chapter 2 - The Order Daniel Never Gave
Daniel did not sleep.
Rachel eventually did.
Or at least she pretended well enough that he left the bedroom.
At 2:14 a.m., Daniel entered his private office overlooking Boston Harbor and locked the door.
Then he called Marco DeLuca.
Marco had been Daniel’s chief of security for eleven years.
He answered on the first ring.
“Boss.”
“I need every communication sent from my office regarding Rachel Morgan during the past three weeks.”
A pause.
“All communications?”
“Email. Text. Internal messages. Calls made by assistants. Gala planning. Wardrobe. Drivers. Everything.”
Marco understood immediately that something was wrong.
“How fast?”
“Before sunrise.”
“Done.”
Daniel ended the call.
Then he stood alone beneath the city lights.
Rachel’s words remained in his mind.
I thought you told them to.
Daniel had been feared since he was twenty-two.
At thirty-eight, fear had become background noise.
He rarely considered how it affected innocent people.
Tonight he had watched his wife hide bruises because she believed resisting his supposed wishes might be dangerous.
That realization disgusted him.
At 5:46 a.m., Marco arrived carrying a tablet.
“We found it.”
Daniel looked up.
Marco placed the device on the desk.
An email appeared.
FROM: Executive Office — D. Moretti
TO: Celeste Arden
SUBJECT: Mrs. Moretti — Gala Presentation
Daniel read.
Rachel needs a cleaner silhouette for photographs. Do whatever is necessary. Mr. Moretti does not want excuses.
Daniel’s jaw hardened.
“Not mine.”
“We know.”
“How?”
“The message originated from your executive server, but not your workstation.”
“Which terminal?”
Marco hesitated.
Daniel noticed.
“Say it.”
“Executive Assistant Station Two.”
Daniel stared.
That desk belonged to Evelyn Hart.
Evelyn had worked for him seven years.
Efficient.
Calm.
Nearly invisible.
“She sent it?”
“Her login did.”
“Where is she?”
“Coming in at eight.”
Daniel checked the clock.
6:02.
“Bring her early.”
Marco nodded.
Daniel added,
“No threats.”
Marco looked surprised.
“No intimidation. No locked rooms. She comes into my office, sits down, and answers questions.”
“Understood.”
“And Marco?”
“Yes?”
“If anyone touched Rachel because they thought I ordered it, I want evidence before consequences.”
Marco studied him.
“That sounds like her talking.”
“It is.”
For the first time in years, Marco smiled.
“Maybe marriage is good for you.”
“Leave.”
“Yes, boss.”
At 7:30, Rachel entered the kitchen wearing a loose gray sweater.
Daniel sat at the island with untouched coffee.
She stopped when she saw him.
“You’re still here.”
“I cancelled my morning.”
Her expression tightened.
“Because of me?”
“Because someone forged an instruction from my office.”
Rachel slowly sat across from him.
“You found something?”
He turned the tablet.
She read the email.
Her face changed.
“That’s what Celeste said.”
“I never sent it.”
“I believe you.”
Three words.
Daniel had not realized how badly he needed them.
Rachel looked at the sender information.
“Who used the account?”
“We’re finding out.”
She studied him.
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
“Neither have you.”
“I slept.”
“You watched the clock until four-fifteen.”
Rachel frowned.
“How do you know?”
“You turned the bedside lamp on twice.”
“You were awake?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you were pretending.”
For the first time since the night before, a tiny smile touched her mouth.
“You’re annoying.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
The elevator chimed.
Marco entered with Evelyn.
Rachel had met Daniel’s assistant twice.
Evelyn was forty-five, elegant, and always perfectly organized.
Today she looked terrified.
Daniel stood.
“Sit.”
Evelyn sat.
Rachel remained.
Daniel noticed Evelyn looking toward her bruised side.
Something flickered across the assistant’s face.
Guilt?
Fear?
“Did you send this?”
Daniel placed the email before her.
Evelyn read it.
“No.”
“Your login did.”
“I didn’t write that.”
“Who has your credentials?”
“No one.”
Daniel’s eyes narrowed.
Evelyn corrected herself.
“Not intentionally.”
“What does that mean?”
She clasped her hands.
“Three weeks ago, IT reset several passwords after the server update. Temporary passwords were printed.”
Marco stepped closer.
“Printed where?”
“Administrative workroom.”
“Who could access it?”
Evelyn looked between them.
“Any executive staff.”
Daniel listed possibilities.
His finance director.
His legal counsel.
His aunt Sophia’s foundation team.
Two personal assistants.
Security administration.
Rachel suddenly spoke.
“Celeste.”
Everyone turned.
Daniel looked at her.
“What?”
“She knew too much.”
“How?”
“She didn’t just say you wanted me thinner.”
Rachel thought back.
“She said the board photographs mattered because shareholders had already questioned whether I ‘fit the Moretti image.’”
Daniel’s expression changed.
“No shareholder said that.”
Rachel continued.
“She also knew what dress I was wearing before I did.”
Marco frowned.
“The gala wardrobe file is internal.”
Daniel looked at Evelyn.
“Who sent Celeste the wardrobe schedule?”
Evelyn swallowed.
“Your aunt.”
Daniel leaned back.
Sophia Moretti.
His father’s older sister.
Chairwoman of the Moretti Foundation.
Family.
And one of the few people who had openly opposed his marriage to Rachel.
“She called Rachel unsuitable,” Marco reminded him.
Daniel remembered.
Sophia had said Rachel was “temporary.”
He had told her the subject was closed.
Apparently she disagreed.
Rachel saw the direction of his thoughts.
“Daniel, don't decide yet.”
“She had access.”
“That doesn’t prove she did it.”
“It proves she could.”
“So could Evelyn.”
Evelyn went pale.
Rachel immediately regretted the bluntness.
“I'm sorry.”
“No,” Evelyn said quietly. “You're right.”
Then Evelyn looked at Daniel.
“There’s something else.”
Daniel waited.
“Your aunt asked me for Rachel’s schedule.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
Rachel frowned.
“Why?”
“She said she wanted to arrange a surprise spa day before the gala.”
Daniel’s face went cold.
“Did you give it to her?”
“Yes.”
“Where was Rachel Thursday afternoon?”
Evelyn checked her memory.
“At the Beacon Hill fitting suite.”
Rachel felt a chill.
That had been the worst session.
The garment had been tightened until she nearly fainted.
Daniel asked,
“Was Sophia there?”
Rachel shook her head.
“No.”
“Who was?”
“Celeste and two assistants.”
Marco’s phone vibrated.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at Daniel.
“We have a problem.”
“What?”
“Celeste Arden didn't come home last night.”
Rachel stared.
Daniel stood.
“Missing?”
“Her apartment door was open. Purse still there.”
Rachel’s face lost color.
Daniel saw it immediately.
“Rachel.”
“She knows something.”
“Yes.”
“Or someone thinks she does.”
Daniel grabbed his coat.
Rachel stood.
“Where are you going?”
“To find her.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
The word came automatically.
Rachel’s face changed.
Daniel caught himself.
He lowered his voice.
“It may be dangerous.”
“So was my fitting.”
“I’m aware.”
“Daniel, she might talk to me when she won’t talk to you.”
“That is not an argument in favor of bringing you into danger.”
“She hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“And if somebody forced her to do it, I want to know.”
Daniel stared.
Rachel stepped closer.
“You said we decide together.”
He hated when his own promises were used effectively.
Ten minutes later they were inside Daniel’s SUV.
Celeste lived in a luxury apartment in Back Bay.
Police had not yet been contacted.
Daniel’s people entered first.
No blood.
No struggle.
Her phone remained charging beside the bed.
Her passport sat in a drawer.
Rachel walked through the dressing area.
Then stopped.
“Daniel.”
He approached.
A garment bag hung behind the door.
Inside was an identical shaping corset to the one used on Rachel.
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
A paper envelope was pinned to it.
Marco removed it carefully.
Inside was a photograph.
Rachel entering the fitting studio.
Someone had circled her body in red marker.
Beneath the photograph:
MAKE HER BELIEVE IT COMES FROM HIM.
Rachel's hand covered her mouth.
Daniel stared at the message.
This was not vanity.
It was psychological warfare.
Someone wanted Rachel afraid of her husband.
Someone wanted their marriage fractured.
And Daniel finally understood something larger.
May you like
His marriage might not have begun from love.
But somebody was very afraid of what would happen if it became real.
