Chapter 3 - The Price They Put on His Wife
Sebastian refused to let Maggie travel to Wisconsin alone.
Maggie refused to arrive with a convoy.
They compromised.
Again.
One car.
Theo driving.
Two additional security vehicles following far enough behind that June Halstead would not immediately think Chicago had invaded Lake Geneva.
The ride north took almost two hours.
Maggie spent most of it reading June’s private register.
Sebastian spent most of it pretending not to watch her.
Eventually Maggie looked up.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m thinking.”
“At my face?”
“At the fact that June requested you specifically.”
“That bothers you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because people I don’t know should not know enough about my wife to summon her.”
Theo glanced in the mirror.
“Very romantic phrasing.”
“Drive.”
Theo grinned.
Maggie returned to the notebook.
The records suggested that in the late 1970s, Lake Street’s industrial parcels had been transferred repeatedly through holding companies. Nothing unusual by itself.
What was unusual was the speed.
A property moved from a manufacturer to a shell company, from the shell company to a community trust, then supposedly back to another private entity.
Several signatures repeated.
Several notaries overlapped.
And Malcolm Veseri’s father appeared in correspondence around nearly every disputed transfer.
“What did your father know about the Veseris?” Maggie asked.
Sebastian looked out the window.
“Thomas Rinaldi and Malcolm Senior were partners once.”
“In what?”
“Shipping.”
“Legitimate shipping?”
Theo made a sound from the front seat.
Sebastian looked at him.
Theo instantly became interested in traffic.
Maggie sighed.
“Forget I asked.”
“No.”
Sebastian’s voice remained calm.
“They were involved in legal freight operations. They were also involved in operations you will not find in corporate filings.”
“Smuggling?”
“Yes.”
“You could simply say that.”
“I could.”
She waited.
Sebastian continued.
“They separated around 1980.”
“The same year as the fire.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“My father never told me.”
Maggie turned another page.
“Perhaps June will.”
June Halstead lived in a small white house overlooking a frozen patch of lake.
No gates.
No guards.
No visible fear.
The woman who opened the door was tiny, silver-haired, and leaned on a walnut cane.
Her eyes were sharp.
She looked at Theo.
Then Sebastian.
Then Maggie.
“You took long enough.”
Maggie blinked.
June stepped aside.
“Come in before the neighbors decide I’ve joined organized crime.”
Theo coughed.
Sebastian’s expression remained controlled.
Inside, the house smelled like old paper and cinnamon.
Boxes filled the dining room.
June pointed her cane toward Sebastian.
“You look like Thomas.”
Sebastian stiffened.
“You knew my father.”
“I disliked your father.”
Theo smiled.
Sebastian looked at him.
Theo stopped.
June shuffled toward the living room.
“I trusted him, though.”
Maggie followed.
“Why did you send me the register?”
June stopped.
“Because you noticed the seal.”
Maggie stared.
“How did you know?”
“I still know people at Hallstead.”
“Someone photographed me there.”
“That wasn’t my person.”
Sebastian’s face hardened.
June looked at him.
“Sit down, Mr. Rinaldi. If I wanted your wife dead, you would not have received an invitation.”
Maggie’s eyebrows rose.
Theo quietly said, “I like her.”
June pointed the cane at him.
“I haven’t decided whether I like you.”
Theo sat.
June turned to Maggie.
“In 1980 I was asked to restore water-damaged property records. Lake Street was among them.”
“The basement flood?”
“Yes.”
“And Folder Sixteen?”
“I removed it.”
Maggie leaned forward.
“Why?”
“Because someone had already begun changing the records.”
Sebastian’s gaze sharpened.
“Malcolm Veseri Senior?”
June nodded.
“He wanted ownership of the district consolidated. His company needed the rail access and warehouses. The Lakeshore Community Trust stood in the way.”
“What was the trust?” Maggie asked.
“Families.”
June’s voice softened.
“Immigrant families. Factory workers. Shop owners. People who pooled money so the land under their neighborhood couldn’t simply be sold from beneath them.”
Maggie felt anger rise.
“The corrective deed transferred the industrial parcel to them.”
“Yes.”
“So Malcolm’s father forged a later chain making it appear they never received it.”
“Not alone.”
June looked at Sebastian.
“Your father helped him at first.”
Sebastian did not move.
Theo looked down.
June continued.
“Thomas Rinaldi thought they were moving paper to simplify development. Then he discovered Malcolm intended to bankrupt the trust, buy the properties through shell companies, and force families out.”
Sebastian’s voice was quiet.
“What did my father do?”
“Tried to stop him.”
“And the fire?”
June stared at him.
“That is where the story becomes dangerous.”
Outside, ice cracked softly along the lake.
June folded her hands.
“The warehouse that burned contained financial records belonging to Veseri Shipping and the community trust.”
“Three people died,” Maggie said.
June nodded.
“One was an accountant working with Thomas.”
Sebastian’s face changed.
“He was gathering evidence.”
“Yes.”
“Was the fire deliberate?”
“The investigation called it electrical.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
June’s eyes held his.
“I believed it was.”
Sebastian looked away.
Maggie watched his jaw tighten.
June continued.
“After the fire, Thomas came to me. He said documents at Hallstead were being altered. He told me to preserve anything connected to Lake Street.”
“So you hid the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
June smiled slightly.
“I didn’t invite you here because I planned to hand it to Sebastian.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed.
June looked at Maggie.
“I invited you.”
Maggie’s mouth went dry.
“Why?”
“Because your maiden name is Bennett.”
Maggie froze.
Sebastian turned.
She looked at June.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
June stood slowly.
She walked toward a cabinet.
From a drawer, she removed a photograph.
She handed it to Maggie.
Four people stood outside a warehouse.
June, much younger.
Thomas Rinaldi.
A man Maggie did not recognize.
And another man whose face she knew from only a handful of family photographs.
Her grandfather.
Arthur Bennett.
Maggie’s hands trembled.
“What?”
June sat again.
“Your grandfather was Thomas Rinaldi’s accountant.”
Maggie stared at the photograph.
“No.”
“He repaired clocks.”
“After 1980.”
Maggie looked at her.
June nodded.
“Before that, Arthur Bennett worked in corporate accounting.”
Maggie’s thoughts scattered.
Her grandfather had rarely spoken about his life before the repair shop.
She had assumed it was because nothing interesting had happened.
“He was at the warehouse?”
“No.”
June’s voice became quieter.
“He was supposed to be.”
Maggie stopped breathing.
“Thomas changed the meeting location at the last minute. Arthur survived because of it.”
“And the three people who died?”
“One was another accountant. Two were warehouse employees.”
Sebastian leaned forward.
“Why didn’t Arthur testify?”
“He tried.”
June’s mouth tightened.
“Evidence vanished. Witnesses changed statements. Arthur had a wife and a young daughter.”
“My mother,” Maggie whispered.
“Yes.”
“He walked away.”
“He kept something first.”
Maggie looked at the boxes filling the room.
“The ledger.”
June shook her head.
“I kept the ledger.”
“What did he keep?”
“The copy.”
Sebastian’s expression sharpened.
“A duplicate?”
“A complete photographic reproduction.”
“Where is it?”
June looked at Maggie.
“Your grandfather hid it.”
Maggie almost laughed from disbelief.
“He died thirteen years ago.”
“He expected someone to find it eventually.”
“Who?”
“You.”
June reached into another envelope and removed a small brass key.
Maggie stared at it.
She knew the shape.
Her grandfather’s clock shop had used old safe-deposit drawers for parts.
One cabinet had remained locked after his death because no one found the key.
The building now belonged to Maggie.
“My grandfather’s shop.”
June nodded.
“He said you noticed things.”
Maggie swallowed hard.
“He said that when I was a child.”
“He noticed you noticed.”
For a moment, Maggie could not speak.
All the years she thought her grandfather’s lessons had been about broken clocks.
Maybe some of them had been about waiting.
June touched her hand.
“Arthur was afraid. Do not judge him too harshly.”
“I don’t.”
Maggie’s eyes filled.
“He protected my mother.”
“Yes.”
Sebastian watched Maggie carefully.
June noticed.
“You love her.”
The room went silent.
Sebastian’s face became unreadable.
Theo looked fascinated.
Maggie’s breath stopped.
June waved one impatient hand.
“Oh, please. I’m eighty-one, not blind.”
Sebastian said nothing.
June looked at Maggie.
“And you love him.”
Maggie nearly dropped the key.
“I think we have enough historical revelations for one afternoon.”
Theo covered a laugh.
Even June smiled.
The moment ended when Sebastian’s phone buzzed.
He looked at the screen.
Then stood.
“What?”
Theo asked.
Sebastian held out the phone.
A news alert.
Maggie read the headline.
RINALDI WIFE ACCUSED OF MANIPULATING CITY RECORDS AMID $180 MILLION PROPERTY DISPUTE
Her stomach fell.
The article used her archive suspension as proof of misconduct.
It claimed she had improperly accessed restricted material.
It described her as “the previously obscure wife of controversial businessman Sebastian Rinaldi.”
There were photographs.
Her wedding.
Her workplace.
Her leaving the archive.
One paragraph suggested their marriage had been arranged specifically to give Sebastian influence over municipal records.
Maggie stared.
“That’s absurd.”
Sebastian took the phone.
“Yes.”
June leaned back.
“Malcolm is frightened.”
Maggie looked at her.
“How do you know it was him?”
“Because frightened men attack facts. Terrified men attack women who understand them.”
Sebastian’s eyes went cold.
“We’re leaving.”
This time Maggie did not argue.
Not because she was frightened.
Because they had what they needed.
A key.
A photograph.
And a destination.
By the time they reached Chicago, reporters waited outside the Rinaldi property.
Security closed the gates.
Maggie entered through the garage.
She removed her coat in the foyer.
Sebastian followed.
“You’re staying home tomorrow.”
Maggie turned.
“No.”
“I’m not discussing this.”
“You’re improving. Last time you said it wasn’t a discussion.”
“Maggie.”
“My grandfather left evidence.”
“We can retrieve it.”
“Together.”
“Security can retrieve it.”
“It belongs to me.”
“That makes it more dangerous.”
“That makes it mine.”
Sebastian ran one hand over his face.
She realized he looked tired.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
The scandal.
The financing.
His father’s past.
Her grandfather.
The threats.
And somehow, instead of becoming colder, Sebastian looked almost vulnerable.
Maggie lowered her voice.
“You cannot protect me by removing me from my own life.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer.
“I also know what people like Malcolm do when they feel cornered.”
“So do I now.”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“You know pieces.”
“And you know what it feels like when someone decides your choices are too dangerous for you.”
Sebastian stopped.
She had found the right wound.
For decades, older men had made decisions for Sebastian.
His father.
His uncles.
The men who built the Rinaldi empire.
He had spent his life fighting for control.
Maggie touched his sleeve.
“Don’t become them with me.”
His eyes closed briefly.
When they opened, the fight had gone out of them.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Together?”
“Together.”
Maggie nodded.
She started to step away.
Sebastian caught her hand.
Not tightly.
Just enough.
“Maggie.”
She looked back.
“I meant what I said.”
“At dinner?”
“No.”
He glanced toward where June had confronted him.
Maggie’s heart jumped.
“You didn’t say anything.”
“I know.”
His thumb moved once across her knuckles.
“I should have.”
She could barely breathe.
“Sebastian…”
A crash sounded outside.
Security shouted.
Sebastian moved instantly, pulling Maggie behind him as the lights on the east side of the property went dark.
Theo rushed into the foyer.
“Someone hit the transformer.”
Another sound.
Glass breaking.
Security radios erupted.
Sebastian looked toward Maggie.
“Upstairs. Now.”
This time she obeyed.
Not because she was surrendering.
Because she saw something on Sebastian’s face she had never seen before.
Not anger.
Fear.
Real fear.
Minutes later, the property was secured.
No one had entered the house.
The broken window had been a distraction.
The real target was the detached garage.
Someone had placed an envelope beneath Maggie’s windshield.
Inside was a photograph of her grandfather’s old clock shop.
Taken that evening.
Written across it:
THE PAST SHOULD STAY BURIED.
Maggie stared at the photograph.
Sebastian stood beside her.
“You still want to go tomorrow?”
She looked at him.
“Yes.”
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he nodded.
“Good.”
Maggie blinked.
Sebastian’s expression became colder than winter.
May you like
“Because now I want to know what Malcolm is afraid you’ll find.”
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