Chapter 7 - Catherine’s Necklace
Atlantic Republic Bank found the old vault records.
Safe-deposit box 7719 still existed.
Its rental fees had been prepaid through a Catherine Bennett estate account.
Emily stared at Olivia.
“My mother paid sixteen years in advance?”
“Apparently.”
The bank required Catherine’s death certificate, Emily’s identification, probate records, and verification that Emily was the authorized successor lessee.
It took two days.
Those two days felt like two months.
On Wednesday morning, Emily entered the bank vault with a manager and Olivia.
Box 7719 was long and narrow.
The manager inserted the bank key.
Then looked at Emily.
“Your key?”
Emily froze.
“My key?”
“Dual-key box.”
Olivia’s expression hardened.
Catherine had left them the number.
Not the second key.
Emily thought of the necklace.
The black velvet box stolen from her home.
Serena still had the emerald pendant.
“The necklace,” Emily whispered.
The bank manager could not help.
Without the customer key, the lock would need to be drilled under formal procedure.
That required several more days.
Emily requested it immediately.
As they left, she received a photograph from an unknown number.
Serena.
The emerald necklace lay across a table.
Beside it sat a tiny brass key.
Message:
Looking for this?
Emily called the number.
Serena answered.
“You finally figured out Catherine’s little trick.”
“Give me the necklace.”
“Why?”
“It’s mine.”
“Your mother disagreed.”
Emily stopped walking.
“What?”
“She gave it to your father with instructions.”
“You’re lying.”
“Ask Olivia.”
Emily looked at her.
Olivia’s face changed.
Emily’s voice dropped.
“You knew something.”
Olivia shook her head.
“Not this.”
Serena laughed softly through the phone.
“Your mother trusted almost nobody near the end.”
“Near the end of what?”
“Her marriage.”
Emily went still.
Catherine and Richard had appeared devoted.
Serena continued.
“You think your father’s company is your family story. It isn’t. It was their battlefield.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Open the box.”
“Give me the key.”
“Come get it.”
“Where?”
“Suite 1907.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“No.”
“Aren’t you tired of being afraid of rooms?”
Emily almost answered emotionally.
Then stopped.
That was Serena’s weapon.
Provocation.
“No,” Emily said. “I’m tired of entering them on your terms.”
She ended the call.
Olivia looked at her with approval.
Emily hated how much she needed that approval.
They arranged for the bank to drill the box legally.
Serena’s brass key became irrelevant.
At least temporarily.
That afternoon Bennett Meridian’s forensic team reviewed Nathan’s vendor contracts.
His signature appeared on twelve.
Martin Cho had approved four.
Emily confronted Martin.
“You never told me.”
“I approve hundreds of contracts.”
“These companies funded Northstar.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Did Nathan?”
Martin stiffened.
“You’re asking me to accuse an executive of fraud without proof.”
“I’m asking what you saw.”
Martin hesitated.
“Nathan insisted certain strategy vendors remain outside ordinary procurement.”
“Why?”
“He said you approved it.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“My name again.”
Martin looked ashamed.
“He had emails.”
“What emails?”
He produced them.
Messages apparently from Emily:
Nathan has authority. Please stop slowing him down with procurement questions.
Emily stared.
The sender address was hers.
The writing style was not.
Maya examined metadata.
The messages had been sent while Emily was on a remote retreat in Vermont.
But her account could have been accessed elsewhere.
IT records showed a login from the Bennett townhouse.
Nathan knew her laptop password.
Emily remembered giving it to him years earlier.
Because married people were not supposed to hide things.
The irony almost made her sick.
At five, Atlantic Republic called.
The box-drilling appointment had been scheduled for Friday morning.
Then the bank officer added, “There is one issue.”
“What?”
“Someone presented the original customer key this afternoon.”
Emily stopped.
“Who?”
“We declined access because she was not the authorized lessee.”
“She?”
“Serena Vale.”
Emily’s heart raced.
“What did she do?”
“She left.”
“Was she alone?”
The officer hesitated.
“No.”
“Who was with her?”
“Nathan Cole.”
Emily closed her eyes.
They knew the bank box mattered.
And they were now racing her to whatever Catherine had hidden inside.
That evening, Nathan called.
Emily did not answer.
He left a voicemail.
“You think Serena is the one you should fear.”
A pause.
“She isn’t.”
May you like
Another pause.
“I married you because of what’s inside that box.”
