Sophie appeared, walking briskly and purposefully. She paused, frowning, and lifted her arm to check the time on her glittering gold wristwatch. She moved swiftly out of the camera’s frame.
“You will all agree that’s Sophie Valente. Correct?” Bryce said.
Vann ignored the question. “What time was it?”
“The video clock shows that it was 3:51,” Bryce replied. “The ceremony began less than ten minutes later. She picked her time carefully. Everyone was already assembled on the lawn for the wedding. Now look at this.” He fast-forwarded until there was another flash of pink, then ran the video back and set it to Play.
It was Sophie again, coming back the other way. Still frowning. The wind tossed her hair over her face. This time, she was almost running.
“Four minutes and twenty-five seconds,” Bryce said. “Just a couple of minutes after that, Rich saw her in the entrance hall and told her she was late for the ceremony. The two of them came in together, as I’m sure you noticed.”
Vann looked into Bryce’s face, his gaze unwavering. “Sophie told me that a woman who claimed to be on the resort staff told her to go to Malcolm’s suite right before the wedding was scheduled to begin.”
Malcolm made a derisive sound. “My suite? Right before the ceremony? What for? That’s absurd!”
“She thought so, too,” Vann said. “This mystery person told her that you were there and that you needed her to interpret something. Obviously, she found no one in the room. She said she knocked, waited for a couple of minutes—”
“Four minutes and twenty-five seconds, to be exact,” Bryce said. “That’s how long she was inside his suite.”
“She never went inside,” Vann said. “She and I discussed it. And they told her at the front desk that the woman who sent her to Malcolm’s room had never worked there.”
“Well now,” Malcolm said. “Isn’t that convenient.”
“Are you interested in seeing what happened in Malcolm’s room during that interval, or not?” Bryce asked.
“For God’s sake, Tim, just play the damn thing,” Malcolm growled. “Gloating is in poor taste, and I’m not in the mood.”
Bryce tapped on the keyboard for a moment. “I’m emailing a courtesy copy of these clips to both of you,” he said. “Review them at your leisure.” He shot a sly glance at Vann. “Something to remember her by?”
“Tim!” Malcolm barked. “What did I just say?”
“Sorry.” Bryce hit Play and stepped back. “Enjoy.”
The video was shot from the wall behind the desk. The room was dimly lit. At 4:34, they saw a dark silhouette position herself on the desk chair in front of the open laptop.
The figure reached out to hit the mouse, and the computer came to life, flooding the figure in the chair with cool blue light.
It was Sophie, in that same silk chiffon thing she’d worn at the wedding. She stared into the screen, seeming serene and absorbed, typed rapidly for a moment and then lifted her phone, as she’d done in the video Bryce had shown them the previous week, before the San Francisco trip. She was taking pictures of the screen.
“I loaded the laptop with dummy files,” Bryce said. “Just for her. They look very convincing, but all the details and calculations have been scrambled. Her buyer is going to be very angry. I’m afraid our bad little girl is in for quite a spanking.”
“Don’t talk about her that way,” Vann growled.
“Not another word out of you,” Malcolm said. “You’re in no position to criticize.”
The video continued. Just Sophie looking calmly into the screen. She would lift the phone, focus, snap the picture. Lift, focus, snap. Her long hair hung over her shoulders, the waves and curls smoothly arranged.
At a certain point, she dropped her phone into her beaded bag and put the computer to sleep. A blurry shifting of shadows in the dark, a brightening as she opened the door to leave—and it was over.
Vann felt rooted to the ground. His brain seemed frozen. It wouldn’t process this information. The woman he knew, the woman he was in love with—she could not have done this. It just...wasn’t...possible.
“Well?” Bryce said. “Does that satisfy you?”
“Satisfy is not the word I’d use,” Malcolm said slowly. “But it’s certainly damning evidence. I don’t think I need anything more to be convinced of her guilt. Not much more to say about it, eh, Vann?”
“You have to let her defend herself,” Vann said. “She may have an explanation. Something we don’t know about. Something we’ve overlooked.”
“What explanation can she have for being inside my private room?” Malcolm demanded. “Now that I think about it, she turned up in my guest office in the San Francisco meeting, too. Remember? That’s where I found the two of you, as I recall. Did she go in before you went in, Vann?”
Vann had to force himself to speak. “Yes. A couple of minutes before me. I saw her heading in there, and chased after her to see if she was up to anything. She wasn’t.”
“So she hadn’t told you to meet her there,” Malcolm persisted.
“No,” Vann admitted reluctantly. “I surprised her.”
“And she distracted you by coming on to you,” Bryce said, smirking. “Well, that’s a classic move. Nothing like sex to distract a man. I hardly blame you. Except that I do.”
“Shut up, Tim,” Malcolm said. “There is nothing amusing about this situation. So she might have been snooping around on my computer in there, too.”
“No,” Vann said. “She didn’t go near your computer. She was in the bathroom.”
“Really?” Malcolm grunted. “Public ladies’ room not good enough for her, then?”
Vann didn’t answer. His face felt numb.
“Well, Vann?” Malcolm said. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”
Vann looked at him, baffled. “Come again? What work?”
“You’re the one who has to do it,” Malcolm went on. “You know her best.”
“Do what?”
Malcolm made an impatient sound. “Stop playing dumb. Get her to come clean about everything she’s done up to now. Every detail, every dollar. Do it, if you care about her at all. Persuade her to cooperate. I’ll be as lenient as I possibly can if she does.”
His mouth was bone-dry. He forced out a rasping croak. “I can’t.”
“It has to be you,” Malcolm said. “Would you rather she spend the best years of her life in jail? Don’t make me be the bad guy here, Vann. Help me out. Help her out.”
The intercom buzzed. “Mr. Maddox?” Sylvia said. “Ms. Valente is here for your ten-thirty meeting. Shall I have her wait until you gentlemen have finished, or shall I reschedule her for later on?”
“No, Sylvia, send her on in,” Malcolm said.
“Are you sure?” Sylvia sounded baffled. “With everyone still there?”
“Exactly.” Malcolm glared around at each of them. “Why drag this out?”
The worst-case scenario was unfolding before Vann’s eyes with terrifying speed. His belly clenched with dread. Then the door opened and Sophie walked in.
Suddenly, all at once, Vann remembered the powerful rationale he’d always instinctively understood for keeping up one’s guard. Love had made him forget that basic, elemental rule of nature.
You kept up your guard to not get annihilated.
Eighteen
Sophie stopped the minute she entered Malcolm’s office, startled to see so many people there. Including Vann.
He didn’t smile. In fact, his face was a blank, tight mask. It reminded her of something sad, something painful. It came to her after a split second.
Mom’s face, that last, terrible week before she died. It was the bloodless tension in a person’s expression when they were trying not to show intense pain. She almost asked Vann if he was okay, but then Malcolm
spoke.
“Good morning, Ms. Valente.”
She turned back to Malcolm, who was behind his desk with Zack Austin and Tim Bryce, of all people. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “I can find a better time if—”
“Not at all,” Malcolm said. “Go on. Say whatever you need to say.”
Sophie was taken aback. Something was off, and she was smack-dab in the middle of it, with no clue. “Are you sure—”
“I am. Please, just say it, whatever it is. Out with it.”
Oh-kayyyy...fine. She took a careful, calming breath. “Actually, what I wanted to discuss with you is of a private nature. I’d prefer to speak with you alone.”
Malcolm studied her from under heavy, furrowed eyebrows. “I think not,” he said. “Anything you have to say can certainly be said in front of these people.”
This was all wrong, and it gave her chills. But it wasn’t like she could retreat in confusion. That would look mealy-mouthed and cowardly and just...well, weird. As if she were somehow in the wrong. Trying to hide something, trying to pull something.
What the hell. She’d do this for Mom. If this bombed, she’d just leave this place forever and start fresh elsewhere. She gave Vann another swift glance, hoping for a smile, a signal. Any sign of solidarity.
He wasn’t even looking at her. It was starting to scare her.
“I came in to see you because I have something important and very personal to tell you,” she said. “It involves us both.”
“Tell it,” Malcolm said. But he did not beckon for her to move closer to his desk, nor did he offer her a chair.
Tim grabbed a chair and sat down, looking at her like she was the main attraction. What on earth?
“Bryce,” Zack said under his breath. “Do not start.”
“I didn’t say a word,” Tim said. “Don’t mind me. I’m just watching the show.”
That pissed her off too much to keep silent. “I didn’t come in here to put on a show for you, Tim.”
“I guess that remains to be seen, hmm?”
Sophie turned her attention from him and approached Malcolm’s desk despite his marked lack of an invitation. She’d be damned if she was going to cower by the door, ready to bolt like a scared little bunny.
She squared her shoulders. “I asked for this meeting because I have decided to tell you that I am your biological daughter,” she announced.
Malcolm’s face was absolutely blank as seconds of painful silence ticked by.
She wanted to break the silence, but it was his place to make the next move. Tim’s mouth hung open. Zack looked startled. The only one who didn’t look shocked was Vann—but he still looked like he was hiding mortal agony behind a mask.
She looked back at Malcolm. His eyes were downcast now.
“I see. So... Vicky,” he said hoarsely. He coughed to clear his throat. “You’re Vicky Valente’s daughter, correct? You look like her. I noticed your surname when you were introduced. It’s not an uncommon name, so I never dreamed you might be related to her.”
And to you. “So you remember her?”
He put his hand up to his eyes. “Of course I remember Vicky. How is she?”
“She died, not long ago,” Sophie said. “April of last year. Pancreatic cancer.”
Malcolm covered his eyes again. Almost a minute went by before he cleared his throat with a sharp cough. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said. “You have my sincere condolences.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said, bemused. And then she just stood there, in the awkward silence. Waiting.
This was so weird. The hard part was done. He hadn’t thrown her out, or yelled at her, or laughed in her face, or called her a liar. He hadn’t denied ever knowing her mother. Those were the outcomes she had feared, and none of them had come to pass.
So why did the air still feel so thick in here? And why did Vann and Zack look like they were being forced to witness an execution?
Tim, on the other hand, looked like he should be munching buttered popcorn.
“So you believe my claim?” she asked. “I was born in New York City, nine months after you and she worked together on the Phelps Pavilion.”
“I do not disbelieve it.” Malcolm’s voice was expressionless.
Sophie pulled her tablet out of her bag, opening the files. “This is my birth certificate. I got a sample of Ava’s DNA several weeks ago. I had it analyzed by a local genetics lab, and these are the results. As you can see, there’s an overwhelming probability that she’s my close relative. At least a cousin.”
“I see.” Malcolm didn’t even lean forward to look at the birth certificate or the genetics lab test results. Which was not promising.
“I also took the opportunity to get a sample of your DNA when we were in San Francisco,” she said. “Not because of any doubts I had, since I believe what Mom told me, but just because I wanted objective proof, for your sake. I took a fork and a water glass from your office in San Francisco. But then I decided I couldn’t wait to have the results analyzed to speak to you. The stress of keeping this secret was getting to me.”
“This explains a lot,” Tim said.
“Your contribution was not requested, Tim,” Malcolm said.
Tim made a lip-zipping gesture. Sophie looked around at all the men present in the room and threw up her hands. “This explains what?” she demanded.
But no one answered. “Come on, people!” she said. “What the hell is going on in here? What aren’t you telling me?”
“One thing at a time,” Malcolm said. “Why didn’t you tell me immediately? You’ve been working here for months. Why not come to me before?”
“I wanted to line up objective, scientific proof,” Sophie said. “Plus, I had to work up the nerve. I couldn’t just pop out of nowhere with an announcement like that.”
“I see,” he said. “And what exactly did you hope to gain from this revelation?”
Sophie flinched inwardly. It wasn’t a surprise, of course, but it still hurt, that he would automatically assume that her motives were just money-grubbing avarice.
“Nothing financial, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she said. “I have many hard-won and highly marketable professional skills. I could make an excellent living anywhere in the world that I chose to go. I also have inherited a considerable amount of money and property from my mother’s side of the family. I own homes in Singapore, New York City, the Catskills, Florence and Positano. I don’t need one penny from you. I wouldn’t even need to work, strictly speaking, but I wasn’t cut out to be a bored socialite. I need challenge in my life.”
Malcolm cleared his throat. “It’s a lot to take in all at once. So if you are independently wealthy as you say, then what do want from me, Ms. Valente?”
Damn. It was a bad sign if he had to ask.
“Please, call me Sophie,” she said stiffly. “My mother asked me to come to you. It was a deathbed request. She wanted us to know each other. She was worried about the fact that I have no living family left. It’s mostly for her sake that I’m here. I promised her I’d come and tell you about myself.”
She and Malcolm stared at each other. Her heart sank. Malcolm didn’t look angry, or defensive, or even suspicious. Just sad.
“I would be satisfied just to be known to you,” she said hesitantly. “And acknowledged by you. I would be open to us getting to know each other as people, if that interests you. I’ve enjoyed my time working here, and I’ve done my best for the company. I’d also like to get acquainted with my cousins. Ava and Drew seem well worth knowing.”
“That they are,” he said.
Sophie tapped on the tablet, opening the file of photographs. “I have pictures of my mother and me over the years, if you’d care to take a look.”
For this, Malcolm did lean forward. He swiped through more than fifty pictures, stud
ying each one for many long moments. Finally, he closed the file, pushing the tablet sharply away. “You can take that back.”
She slid the device back into her bag, chilled. “So where do we go from here?”
Malcolm wrapped his arms over his chest. “That depends entirely upon you.”
“Me?” She shook her head, confused. “Not at all, Mr. Maddox. I’ve made my move. It’s your turn, to either respond to it or not. As you prefer.”
Once again, that cool stare, like he was waiting for something more from her.
Something that he thought he was owed.
Which seemed backward. She’d given him everything she had to offer. She’d displayed her most intimate memories, for God’s sake. Showing him that file was like pulling a piece of her heart out of her chest and handing it over to a stranger. Not knowing if it would be flung back into her face or not.
Malcolm made an impatient huffing sound. “Come on now, Ms. Valente. Is there anything else important that you need to tell us today?”
She was confused. “Excuse me? Does this issue not seem important enough to warrant a private meeting with you?”
“Skip the snark, please. Do you have anything else to say, beyond your genetic revelation?”
Sophie studied each of the people in the room in turn. She had the uncomfortable feeling that some inexplicable trap was about to spring shut on her.
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “This was the sum total of my agenda for today.”
“Oh, enough of your bullshit.” Malcolm slapped his hand down on the desk, making everything on it rattle.
Sophie jerked back, startled. “What on earth? What bullshit?”
“Come on, girl! For your mother’s sake, and for everything that I should have done for you while you were growing up, I’ll give you a pass. But you’ve got to come clean!”
“Come clean about what? A pass on what? Explain yourself, for God’s sake!”
Malcolm shook his head. “Don’t play dumb with me. I’ll go easy on you, on the condition that you cooperate completely with our internal investigative team, and then swear never to contact me or my family ever again. But for that, you have to confess.”
Corner Office Secrets Page 14