Chapter 2 - The Man Who Ran
Adrian caught Graham Voss before security did.
The old attorney had nearly reached the courtyard when Adrian grabbed his jacket.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Take your hands off me.”
“Why are you running?”
“I am not running.”
“You left the room like the building was on fire.”
Marcus appeared behind them.
“Graham.”
Voss straightened.
Forty-seven years as a lawyer returned to his posture.
“I was attempting to prevent this spectacle from becoming worse.”
Marcus’s voice was quiet.
“You were the second voice.”
“What?”
“On the recording.”
Claire stood several feet behind Marcus.
“It sounded like him.”
Voss turned.
“You have no idea what my voice sounded like thirty-two years ago.”
Claire replied, “My father did.”
Voss’s eyes narrowed.
There it was.
Recognition.
He knew exactly who she was.
Marcus saw it.
“You knew Samuel had a daughter.”
Voss did not answer.
“Did my father know?”
Vivian had escorted the remaining guests out of the barrel hall while staff shut down the anniversary celebration.
Phones had already captured too much.
By morning, every major wine publication in California would know something had happened.
Voss adjusted his cuffs.
“You should not discuss potentially privileged family matters in front of strangers.”
Claire laughed.
“I’m not the stranger here.”
Marcus looked toward the archive.
Eleanor remained inside.
Still holding the black ledger.
“Adrian, stay with Graham.”
“Dad—”
“Stay with him.”
Marcus returned to his mother.
Claire followed.
Eleanor sat at the archive table.
At eighty-four, she was thin and immaculately dressed, her white hair pinned at the nape of her neck.
Marcus had spent his childhood believing his mother was the gentler parent.
Edward shouted.
Eleanor endured.
Edward commanded.
Eleanor softened the edges.
Now she looked terrified of Claire.
Marcus shut the archive door.
“What is that ledger?”
“Nothing relevant.”
“You locked yourself in here during the celebration.”
“I came for a document.”
“What document?”
Eleanor looked toward Claire.
“You look like him.”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“People keep saying that like it’s supposed to be comforting.”
“Samuel had the same expression when he was angry.”
“My father spent thirty-two years being angry.”
Marcus stared.
“Where is Samuel?”
Claire looked at him.
“Dead.”
The word emptied the room.
Marcus sat slowly.
“When?”
“Four months ago.”
“How?”
“Heart failure.”
Marcus lowered his eyes.
He had imagined Samuel alive somewhere.
Successful.
Indifferent.
Perhaps laughing at the family he abandoned.
He had never allowed himself to imagine a grave.
Claire continued.
“He died in Eugene, Oregon. He worked as a cabinetmaker. He coached soccer. He made terrible coffee. He never owned another bottle of Bellamy wine.”
Marcus swallowed.
“Did he ever…”
He stopped.
Claire understood.
“Talk about you?”
“Yes.”
“Every week.”
Marcus looked at her.
“He hated you.”
That hurt.
Claire continued.
“And missed you.”
That hurt more.
Eleanor began crying.
Claire’s face hardened.
“Don’t.”
Eleanor looked up.
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand that my father spent half his life branded a thief.”
“Samuel did take money.”
Claire froze.
Marcus turned.
“What?”
Eleanor said, “Not what Edward claimed. But he did move funds.”
Claire stepped forward.
“How much?”
“I don’t remember.”
“You remember.”
Eleanor’s hand tightened on the ledger.
Marcus reached for it.
She pulled back.
“Mother.”
“No.”
“What’s inside?”
“Things that will destroy this family.”
Claire spoke quietly.
“Your husband already did that.”
Eleanor glared at her.
“You come here after thirty years carrying Samuel’s grievances and think you understand Bellamy Estate?”
“My father’s name was Bellamy.”
“He renounced it.”
“He was framed into surrendering it.”
Eleanor stood.
“He made choices.”
“So did you.”
Marcus stepped between them.
“Enough.”
He looked at his mother.
“Give me the ledger.”
“No.”
“Mother.”
“If you open this, creditors will come. Former employees will sue. The federal government may look at old tax filings. Every newspaper in California will publish Edward’s name beside words like fraud and theft.”
Marcus stared.
“You knew.”
Eleanor’s silence answered.
His face changed.
“How long?”
“Marcus…”
“How long did you know Samuel hadn’t signed the waiver?”
Her eyes filled.
“Not at first.”
“When?”
“After he left.”
“How long after?”
“Three days.”
Marcus backed away.
Claire whispered, “Thirty-two years.”
Eleanor reached for him.
He stepped aside.
“You let me believe he stole from us.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From what?”
“From your father.”
Claire laughed bitterly.
“Everyone protected Marcus.”
Marcus turned toward her.
The accusation landed because it was true.
Eleanor suddenly clutched the ledger harder.
Then Claire noticed a torn leather strap around its spine.
“You weren’t taking something out of the archive.”
She looked around.
“You were bringing that in.”
Eleanor’s face changed.
Marcus stared.
“Where has that ledger been?”
No answer.
Claire stepped closer.
“What were you hiding tonight?”
Eleanor whispered, “You should leave.”
“Not until I know.”
“You don’t know what Graham will do.”
Marcus looked toward the door.
“What does Graham have to do with it?”
Eleanor’s fear sharpened.
“Everything.”
Marcus opened the door.
“Adrian.”
No answer.
The courtyard was empty.
Marcus rushed outside.
“Adrian?”
Vivian came from the tasting room.
“What happened?”
“Where’s Graham?”
“I thought Adrian was watching him.”
Marcus pulled out his phone.
Adrian did not answer.
Then Vivian’s phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
“Adrian.”
She answered.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
Her face changed.
“Adrian?”
Marcus grabbed the phone.
His son’s voice sounded strained.
“Dad, don’t call the police.”
“Where are you?”
“I followed Voss.”
“Why?”
“He said he could prove Claire was lying.”
Marcus looked at Claire.
“Where are you?”
Adrian inhaled.
“Old Cooper warehouse.”
Marcus’s stomach tightened.
Bellamy Estate had stopped using the Cooper warehouse fourteen years earlier.
Adrian continued.
“Dad…”
“What?”
“There are boxes here.”
“What boxes?”
“Samuel’s.”
Claire stepped closer.
Adrian whispered, “And one of them has your name on it.”
May you like
Then someone shouted in the background.
The line went dead.
