Chapter 7 - THE NAME SHE STOLE
Gabriel found the answer in six hours.
Maeve Donnelly.
Age twenty-four.
Born in Joliet.
Mother deceased.
Father unknown.
One younger brother.
Finn Donnelly.
Cardiac patient.
Employed by the Ashford family since age seventeen.
No criminal history.
No debt except hospital bills.
No connection to organized crime.
No apparent reason to impersonate Sienna Ashford.
Except one.
The payment to Finn’s hospital had been wired from an Ashford family trust forty-eight hours before Maeve entered the Marchetti estate.
Elias read the report twice.
Then once more.
Salvatore stood near the fireplace.
Gabriel remained by the door.
“Where is Sienna?”
Elias asked.
“Currently in Paris.”
Gabriel answered.
Elias’s eyes lifted.
“She left the country?”
“Three days after your wedding.”
Silence.
Salvatore muttered something in Italian.
Elias closed the file.
The room became very quiet.
Gabriel knew that silence.
So did Salvatore.
The last time Elias had looked this calm, three executives had resigned before lunch.
“What do you want done?”
Gabriel asked.
Elias turned the onyx ring.
Nothing.
Yet.
“I want to know who designed this.”
“Margaret Ashford is the obvious answer.”
“Obvious is not evidence.”
Elias looked toward the ceiling.
Maeve was upstairs.
Living in his home.
Wearing his ring.
Sleeping ten feet from him.
Afraid every day he would discover what she had done.
And somehow, despite all of it, the deepest emotion Elias felt was not anger.
That disturbed him.
He should have been furious.
Instead, he remembered the first night she had arrived.
Why did you come back?
Because leaving would have been easy.
It had been the first honest thing she said to him.
Even while lying about her name.
“Does she know I can walk?”
Elias asked.
Gabriel shook his head.
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
Salvatore stared at him.
“You are extending the test?”
“No.”
Elias closed the folder.
“I am changing it.”
That evening, Maeve entered the library and found him alone.
He was positioned beside the windows.
Snow had begun outside.
The first of the season.
She carried two mugs.
“I made chocolate.”
Elias looked at her.
“Sienna hated chocolate.”
The mug nearly slipped.
Maeve recovered.
“People change.”
“You say that often.”
Maeve placed his mug on the side table.
She could feel his eyes on her.
“Did something happen?”
“Yes.”
Her face went pale.
Elias waited.
She did not ask what.
Interesting.
He continued.
“One of our warehouses was inspected this afternoon.”
Maeve exhaled slowly.
“That sounds manageable.”
“It is.”
She sat.
Elias watched her.
“Tell me about your childhood.”
Maeve’s hands tightened around the mug.
“My childhood?”
“Yes.”
“You know about it.”
“Tell me anyway.”
Maeve’s pulse pounded.
She had memorized Sienna’s childhood.
Boarding schools.
Ski trips.
Summer houses.
Horseback lessons.
But Elias was looking at her differently now.
As if every word mattered.
Maeve made a decision she could not explain.
“I grew up in a small apartment.”
Elias said nothing.
She realized what she had said.
Too late.
Maeve looked down.
“My mother worked nights.”
Elias’s face remained unreadable.
“I shared a room with my brother.”
Her voice shook.
“We used to put blankets over the radiator because it made too much noise.”
She stopped.
Her eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Maeve looked at him.
“For being someone you didn’t expect.”
Elias’s chest tightened.
He could have ended it then.
He could have told her he knew.
He could have called Gabriel.
Ordered Margaret brought to the house.
Sent Maeve away.
Instead he asked, “What was your mother’s name?”
May you like
Maeve whispered, “Kathleen.”
And Elias realized he no longer cared why Maeve Donnelly had stolen Sienna Ashford’s name nearly as much as he cared why she looked relieved when he let her speak in her own voice.
