Catherine Romano was sitting in the conservatory when Elena found her.

Morning sunlight filtered through the tall glass windows.

The older woman wore a cream cardigan and held a porcelain cup of tea.

She looked peaceful.

Until Elena placed the photograph on the table.

Catherine's hand stopped moving.

"Where did you get that?"

Elena remained standing.

"Someone left it outside my room."

Catherine stared at the photograph.

Her face slowly lost its color.

"That's impossible."

"What's impossible?"

Catherine looked up.

"That photograph was supposed to be destroyed."

Elena felt her heartbeat quicken.

"Then it's real."

Catherine said nothing.

"You knew my father."

The older woman closed her eyes.

"Yes."

"How well?"

"Well enough to know he was a good man."

Elena swallowed.

"Then why did you tell the police you'd never met him?"

Catherine set down her teacup.

"Because I was afraid."

"Of whom?"

Catherine looked toward the conservatory doors.

"Some questions are dangerous, Elena."

"My father died because people kept secrets."

"I know."

"Then stop keeping them."

Catherine's eyes filled with tears.

"Daniel came to me three days before the fire."

Elena gripped the back of a chair.

"What did he say?"

"He had discovered financial records hidden inside Ashford Warehouse. Records showing money moving through companies that didn't really exist."

"Richard's companies?"

Catherine hesitated.

"Some of them."

Elena leaned forward.

"What else?"

"Daniel believed the money was connected to illegal shipments. He wanted to report everything."

"To the police?"

"To federal investigators."

Elena stared at her.

Her father had never told the family how far he intended to go.

"He asked me to help him," Catherine continued. "He believed Vincent was being placed in danger."

Elena went still.

"Vincent?"

Catherine nodded.

"Vincent had begun questioning Richard's accounts. Richard was losing control."

"Did my father know Richard wanted Vincent dead?"

"I don't know."

Elena studied the older woman's face.

"You're hiding something."

Catherine looked down.

"I've spent fifteen years trying to keep my son alive."

"And my father died."

The words struck Catherine visibly.

"I know."

Elena's voice trembled.

"Do you know what my mother went through?"

Catherine shook her head.

"She sold our house. She sold her wedding ring. She worked until she could barely stand."

Tears filled Elena's eyes.

"Every time someone called my father a careless employee, she had to listen."

Catherine began crying silently.

"I'm sorry."

Elena stepped backward.

"Sorry doesn't bring him back."

"No."

"Then tell me who ordered the fire."

Catherine looked toward the doors again.

"I can't."

Elena stared at her.

"You mean you won't."

Before Catherine could respond, Vincent entered.

"Mother?"

He stopped when he saw Elena's expression.

"What happened?"

Elena turned toward him.

"Ask your mother why she lied to the police."

Vincent looked at Catherine.

"Mother?"

Catherine pressed a hand to her mouth.

Vincent approached the table.

He saw the photograph.

His expression changed.

"That's Daniel Brooks."

Catherine nodded.

"You knew him?"

"Yes."

Vincent stared at her.

"For fifteen years, you told me the investigation was complete."

"I was trying to protect you."

"From what?"

Catherine looked at him.

"From the people who wanted you dead."

Vincent went silent.

Elena watched the realization spread across his face.

He pulled out a chair.

"Sit down, Mother."

Catherine obeyed.

"Start at the beginning."

For the next hour, Catherine described the weeks leading up to the fire.

Vincent's father had been seriously ill.

Richard controlled much of the family's business.

Daniel discovered unauthorized transactions and suspicious electrical modifications at Ashford Warehouse.

Catherine feared that Richard was using the building to conceal evidence.

She had urged Daniel to leave Chicago.

But he refused.

"He told me there were people working in that warehouse who didn't know what was happening," Catherine whispered. "He wouldn't abandon them."

Elena covered her mouth.

That sounded exactly like her father.

Vincent leaned forward.

"Did Richard threaten him?"

Catherine hesitated.

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He told Daniel that accidents happen to men who ask too many questions."

Vincent's face hardened.

"And you never told me?"

Catherine began crying again.

"After the fire, Richard came to the hospital. He said you were alive because he'd made a deal with the people responsible."

"What deal?"

"He wouldn't tell me."

Vincent stood abruptly.

"And you believed him?"

"I was terrified!"

Catherine's voice broke.

"Your father was dying. You were unconscious. Richard controlled the business, the lawyers, the security. I didn't know whom to trust."

Vincent turned away.

Elena could see the struggle in his face.

He loved his mother.

But he was beginning to understand how much her silence had cost other people.

"Did you know Elena survived?" he asked.

Catherine looked at her.

"No."

"Richard authorized her hospital transfer."

Catherine's eyes widened.

"He told me the girl died."

Vincent gave a bitter laugh.

"He told everyone that."

Elena stepped forward.

"Then why keep my father's photograph?"

Catherine wiped her face.

"Because Daniel gave me something before the fire."

Elena's heart pounded.

"What?"

"A key."

Vincent turned.

"What key?"

Catherine rose slowly.

"He said if anything happened to him, I should give it to someone who would understand."

"Where is it?" Elena asked.

Catherine looked toward Vincent.

"I hid it in your father's study."

Vincent's expression tightened.

"Richard had that room sealed after Dad died."

"I know."

Elena felt a cold sensation spread through her chest.

"Does Richard know about the key?"

Catherine did not answer immediately.

Then she whispered:

"I think he does."

That afternoon, Vincent ordered Michael to investigate Richard's old financial records.

By evening, Michael returned with a folder.

Vincent opened it in his office while Elena stood nearby.

A series of bank transfers appeared on the first page.

The payments had been routed through several companies.

One had been registered at the same vacant address as the fake fire suppression contractor.

Vincent examined the authorization dates.

Two days before the fire.

One day before the fire.

And the morning of the fire itself.

Elena leaned closer.

"Who approved them?"

Vincent turned the page.

There it was.

Richard Romano.

A transfer of three million dollars.

Authorized forty-eight hours before the warehouse burned.

Vincent stared at the signature.

Michael spoke quietly.

"Sir, the receiving account belonged to a company dissolved shortly after the fire."

"Who owned it?"

"We're still tracing the beneficial owner."

Vincent closed the folder.

Elena looked at him.

"Now do you believe me?"

Vincent met her eyes.

"I believe someone in my family paid to make that fire happen."

His phone rang.

Richard.

Vincent let it ring.

Then a text appeared.

STOP DIGGING, NEPHEW. YOUR MOTHER HAS ALREADY PAID ENOUGH.

Vincent slowly looked toward the conservatory.

For the first time, he understood that Richard's threats had never ended.

They had simply become quieter.