Alexander drove directly to Victoria’s apartment in Beverly Hills.
She lived in a luxurious penthouse overlooking a private garden, surrounded by expensive furniture and carefully arranged artwork. Her home reflected the same polished image she presented to the world: elegant, controlled, and seemingly without a single imperfection.
When she opened the door, she was wearing a white blouse and dark trousers.
She looked surprised to see him.
“Alexander? What happened?”
He held up the photograph.
“Tell me why your car was outside a restaurant where my uncle met Margaret Hale twelve years ago.”
Victoria looked at the photograph.
Her face changed.
Only for a second, but he saw it.
“I don’t know.”
“Look at it carefully.”
“I’ve never seen that photograph before.”
“Then why are you frightened?”
“I’m not frightened.”
Alexander entered the apartment.
“Your mother worked with Margaret Hale. Your family had connections to Northbridge Capital. You knew about my father’s letter, and now your car appears in a photograph connected to the original investigation.”
Victoria shut the door.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Then help me understand.”
She walked toward the windows.
For several seconds, she remained silent.
Then she turned around.
“My mother told me your uncle had been investigating financial irregularities before he died.”
Alexander felt a chill run through him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she made me promise never to discuss it.”
“Why?”
“She said it would destroy both our families.”
“Did she know what happened to Daniel Carter?”
Victoria looked away.
“I was twenty years old when the scandal happened. I didn’t know the details.”
“But you knew something.”
“Yes.”
The admission seemed to cost her a great deal.
Victoria sat down on the sofa and pressed her hands together.
