“No.”
“You answered quickly.”
“I have had twelve years to examine the question.”
“And what did you find?”
“That someone used his companies to move money without his knowledge.”
“That seems convenient.”
“It does.”
The ease with which he acknowledged suspicion unsettled me.
“Did he die before clearing his name?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Cancer.”
There was no hidden drama in the answer. No violent legend. Just illness.
Niko took the frame from me and returned it to the piano.
“He spent his final year trying to discover who had used him.”
“Did he succeed?”
“He left notes. Names. None were enough.”
“Where are they?”
“In my study.”
“I want to see them.”
“Not tonight.”
Anger flashed.
“You do not get to decide that.”
“You have been awake since before dawn. You married a stranger, learned your mother’s death may not have been an accident, and spent six hours smiling at people who were watching to see whether you would break. Tonight, I get to recommend that you sleep.”
