“Joe’s right,” Mariella said. She pinned each of her children with her infamous mother glare. One by one their combative postures eased. They knew that when their mother shot them that look she was a breath away from one of her epic tirades, and no one would be spared. “This is not the time or the place. As much as I want to put my faith in the discretion of the staff here, we cannot risk them overhearing anything that shows any type of weakness or fracture in our family.” She slightly raised her chin. “Everyone has a price,” she added, knowing that her family understood exactly what she meant. “So we will smile, keep our voices down and act like we love each other. That means all of you.”
Elana flopped down on one of the overstuffed white leather side chairs that sat beneath a large expressionist abstract by Jackson Pollock. She crossed her long bare legs and dropped her Chanel purse next to her.
Luc turned toward the panoramic window that overlooked the lush grounds of Whispering Oaks. The one-way windows allowed one to see out, but every space inside the facility was shielded from prying eyes. He slung his hands into the pockets of his slacks and rocked his chiseled jaw.
Gabe, quiet as ever, stood off to the side, watching.
Rafe’s eyes settled on Joe’s hand that still rested on his mother’s shoulder. Unlike his self-absorbed sister and brother, Rafe’s attention focused on his mother and Joe. Joe’s seemingly assuring touch wasn’t as innocent as it appeared, no matter how Joe tried to play it. Joe lowered his hand to his side and moved slightly away from Mariella as if pulled by invisible strings. Rafe didn’t miss that, either.
Mariella centered herself in the room. She glanced from one child to the next. “As much as I’d like to pretend that this whole nightmare with your father was some freak accident, I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” Luc interjected, turning from his spot at the window. “What else could it be?
Mariella absently ran her long fingers through her hair. Violet-colored taaffeite studs sparkled in her lobes, and a single matching stone hung from a thin platinum chain around her neck giving the impression that the rare diamond sat magically at her throat. Both had been a twentieth-anniversary gift—Harrison had had them specially made when he’d visited Tanzania, the only place in the world other than Sri Lanka where the rare gem could be found. She fingered the stone at her throat. “The more I think about it, the more we can’t pretend this is some ordinary accident. Your father is an expert driver. He always has been, and he’s raced around that highway for decades.
“And there is someone working behind the scenes—the Fixer. We don’t know who the Fixer is or what their agenda is,” she said while her free hand gestured in the air. “For all we know, it could be a move to somehow get their claws on Marshall International, starting with getting...rid of your father.”
Luc’s eyes narrowed. Elana sat up straighter, and Rafe’s lean frame tensed.
“Why would this person want to hurt Dad?” Luc asked.
“You really believe that, Mom?” Rafe asked. “But the Fixer set up that fake interview to show Dad was recovering.”
Mariella shook her head. “I don’t know, but there’s something else. There’s an account that has nothing to do with the business.” The room grew deathly silent. She’d debated whether or not to tell her children what she’d accidentally come across. But they needed to know.
Gabe spoke up for the first time. “Account?”
Mariella smiled at her surrogate son. As much as she tried to downplay it, Rafe was her favorite, but her nephew had a special place in her heart. Gabe’s devotion to Harrison made his own flesh and blood pale in comparison. She extended her hand to him.
Gabe walked toward his aunt and took her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Tía, what account?”
Joe cleared his throat. “I think I should explain.”
Luc folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall. “Please do.”
“After the accident your mother found a bank statement in your dad’s jacket. It was from a bank in the Cayman Islands.”
Luc was incredulous. “That’s...offshore banking, a way to hide money. Dirty money.”
“I wasn’t sure what it was, so I showed it to Joe,” Mariella cut in. “I felt that with Joe being Harrison’s business partner, he might know what it all means.”
“The statement is several months old,” Joe continued. “But the account is clearly active. There’s more than a hundred million dollars in it,” he added. “That’s why I decided to tell you about the Fixer.”
Elana jumped up from her seat. Her purse clattered to the floor. “Wait a minute. A hundred million?”
“A hundred million dollars?” Rafe echoed in disbelief. “Would this offshore account and his business with the Fixer have anything to do with his accident?”
“Perhaps. That’s what I intend to find out,” Joe continued. “But I can tell you all that it won’t be easy. Those kinds of accounts are set up to stop exactly what I’m trying to do—unlock it. And it’s clear that Harrison went to great lengths to keep it a secret.”
“And you didn’t know anything about this either, Gabe?” Luc asked, zeroing in on his cousin, whom he’d always been at odds with. He never could accept that as much time that he’d spent with his father in the early days before his medical career took off, his father would turn to Gabe as the one to run much of the business. He’d listened to his father when he told Luc to go after his dreams. But never did he believe that in doing so, Gabe would be the one to rise up the ranks. Gabe had his father’s ear, his confidence, and every time Luc looked at his cousin he fumed at the decision he’d made. Sure, he was successful in his own right. He was a respected doctor, but Gabe had become the son to Harrison that Luc should have been. Gabe held the keys to the throne. Keys Luc had turned down. That was a reality that he would not ignore.
“This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Gabe draped his arm around his aunt’s shoulder. She rested against him.
“We may never know,” Mariella said with quiet resignation. She shared a knowing look with her family. The fact of the matter was the doctors were not optimistic about Harrison’s recovery. If he recovered at all, he might never be the man he was. She could not imagine the man she knew, vibrant, virile, full of vitality, a man who grabbed life by the throat, reduced to...
She didn’t want to let her mind go there, and most of all she had to keep up a good front for her family. In truth she was terrified. If the rumors were true, someone might have tried to kill her husband. At this moment she didn’t believe that Harrison had lost control of that car, no matter what she said in public. Whatever Harrison had gotten into might have put her family at risk. The thought of losing...because of Harrison—
Joe was her husband’s best friend and business partner. How much did he know that he wasn’t telling? What about Gabe—her husband’s protégé? And Luc was far too calm with the chaos swirling around him. Hmm... Rafe was brilliant—brilliant enough to be the Fixer? She clasped the shawl in her fist. She would have to let it all play out. At this point, no one was above her suspicion.
* * *
Guilt knotted in Joe’s stomach. Flashes of screaming and twisted metal snapped like synapses in his head. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the replay on TV of the yellow tape roping off the accident site and the emergency and police vehicles with their spinning lights and piercing sirens that flooded the area. But what would forever remain as his personal nightmare was seeing Harrison’s battered, bloodied, limp body airlifted from what looked like a level of hell. The press were vultures, capitalizing on pain. Harrison’s accident was all