THE TRUTH ABOUT MY HUSBAND
Three days later, Roman returned.
I had barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Julian leaving.
I saw Celeste sitting in his Porsche.
I heard the gunshots.
And I kept wondering what else my husband had hidden from me.
When Roman entered my hospital room, I knew immediately that something had changed.
“Where is Julian?”
“Vancouver.”
“You found him?”
“Almost.”
I sat up.
“What does that mean?”
“He tried to board another flight using a false identity.”
“Did he escape?”
“No.”
I exhaled.
Roman placed a folder on the table.
“The original.”
I stared at it.
The black leather folder.
My hands began shaking.
“He had this?”
“Yes.”
“And now?”
“It’s yours.”
I didn’t touch it.
“What happened to Julian?”
“He was arrested.”
I looked at Roman.
“Is he going to prison?”
“If the evidence holds, for a very long time.”
I finally opened the folder.
The first document had my name on it.
My signature.
My father’s company.
And transactions I had never authorized.
I turned another page.
More transfers.
More shell companies.
More signatures.
My face went numb.
“I didn’t sign these.”
“I know.”
“Then how—”
“Julian forged some of them.”
I stared at the pages.
“How could I not know?”
“Because you trusted him.”
That answer hurt.
But it was true.
I trusted him completely.
Roman sat across from me.
“There is something else.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“Your father wasn’t simply a businessman.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“He discovered that several companies were being used to move illegal money through the port.”
I stared at him.
“My father knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
“Because he was afraid.”
“Afraid of whom?”
Roman didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said:
“Victor Kane.”
The same name.
The same man Julian had been meeting.
“What happened to my father?”
Roman’s expression became serious.
“His death was ruled an accident.”
I stared at him.
“But?”
Roman leaned forward.
“I don’t believe it was an accident.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“You think my father was murdered?”
“I think someone wanted him silent.”
I looked down at my daughter.
For years, I had believed my father’s death was a terrible accident.
Now I was learning that perhaps everything I knew about my own family was a lie.
Then Roman said:
“Madeline, there is one more thing you need to know.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“Your father left something behind.”
“What?”
“A key.”
