I only saw Nathaniel’s portrait above the library mantel.
The golden-haired boy. The serious eyes. The hand resting on the spaniel’s shoulder.
“My brother died,” I said.
Celeste tilted her head. “Did he?”
My father moved toward her so fast the woman beside Samuel stiffened.
“Enough,” he said.
Celeste laughed. “There it is. The famous Ashford command. The voice that makes bankers tremble and judges adjust their ties.” Her eyes glittered. “But not today.”
I looked at my father. “What is she talking about?”
He said nothing.
That silence terrified me more than Celeste’s smile.
“What is she talking about?” I shouted.
My father closed his eyes.
And Celeste answered for him.
“Nathaniel Ashford was taken, yes. My mother took him to force Jonathan to release the Black Harbor files. But when she realized the men behind Black Harbor were hunting her too, she tried to return him.”
