Chapter 4: What Nathan Said When He Thought He Still Had a Card to Play
They brought Nathan into the study at seven in the morning.
He had been held in the east sitting room for two hours.
No phone.
No coffee.
One guard at the door and one in the hall.
When Daniel walked him in, Nathan's shirt was still neatly pressed, but the careful calm he had worn in the cellar was beginning to crack at the edges.
Dominic was seated behind the desk.
The folder was closed in front of him.
He did not open it.
"Sit down, Nathan."
Nathan sat.
He looked at the folder, then back at Dominic.
"Whatever is in that—"
"Raymond Holt."
Nathan's mouth closed.
"I want to hear you say his name," Dominic said.
"Dom—"
"Say it."
A long pause.
"Raymond Holt."
"You knew him."
"I knew of him.
Claire introduced them.
She said he was a contact from her father's business.
I didn't ask questions."
"You didn't ask questions." Dominic leaned back.
"Seventeen years, Nathan.
You asked questions about everything.
You asked questions about men I hadn't even decided to meet yet.
But you didn't ask questions about the investigator who closed Elena's case in eleven days."
"I didn't know what he was closing."
"The wire transfer has your account number on the routing confirmation.
Not as the sender.
As the verifier.
Someone had to confirm the funds were clean before they moved.
That was you."
Nathan's jaw worked.
"That's not what that document shows."
"I had Marcus photograph every page forty minutes ago.
My attorney is looking at them right now." Dominic's voice didn't rise.
"So I'm going to ask you one more time, and the answer you give me in the next thirty seconds is the only thing that decides what happens to you after today.
Did you know Elena was going to be k*lled?"
The silence stretched.
Nathan looked at the desk.
At the window.
At his own hands.
"I knew something was being arranged," he said finally.
"Claire told me Elena had found evidence of the Atlantic City accounts.
The offshore structure.
If she had taken that to the right people, everything would have come apart.
You, me, the whole operation."
"So you let them arrange it."
"I told myself it was containment.
I told myself—"
"You told yourself a woman's life was a business decision."
Nathan looked up.
Something in his face shifted — not guilt exactly, but the particular exhaustion of a man who has been carrying a story for four years and has finally run out of road.
"I pulled you out of that car," Nathan said.
"The night it happened.
I was the one who—"
"You were the one who made sure I wasn't in the car with her." Dominic stood.
"I always thought that was loyalty.
I spent four years being grateful to you for that."
Nathan said nothing.
"Where is Claire now?"
"I don't know."
"Nathan."
"I genuinely don't know.
She has a protocol.
If something goes wrong before the wedding, she moves.
She has people I've never met.
She planned for this possibility."
Dominic walked to the door.
"She planned for you being caught," he said.
"She didn't plan for Mia hiding that folder.
And she didn't plan for a four-year-old girl who knew her mother always kisses her goodbye."
He opened the door.
Two guards waited outside.
"Take him to the lower office.
Lock it.
If he touches a phone, break his hand."
Nathan stood slowly.
At the door, he stopped.
"Dom.
For what it's worth — I am sorry.
About Elena.
I have been sorry every day."
Dominic looked at him for a long moment.
May you like
"That's the most useless thing you've ever said to me."
The door closed.
