Chapter 10 - Shadows on the Lake
By eight o’clock that evening, the sprawling mansion on Lake Minnetonka had grown impossibly quiet.
The domestic staff—who had wisely kept their distance during the afternoon’s dramatic police intervention—had quietly prepared a simple dinner and retired to the guest quarters. Upstairs, in the expansive west-wing suite that had once belonged to my parents, two small boys finally drifted off to sleep side-by-side in a massive king-sized bed, exhausted by the whirlwind of airplanes, airports, and grand stone houses.
I stood on the second-story balcony, looking out over the dark, glassy expanse of the lake. The autumn wind carried a sharp chill, rippling the black water where moonlight cast a long, silver path across the surface.
Behind me, the sliding glass door clicked softly.
Footsteps approached across the hardwood floor, followed by the familiar, comforting rustle of fabric. A moment later, my cashmere coat—which I had given her at the airport—draped lightly over my shoulders, and Rosalind’s arms slid around my waist from behind, her cheek resting gently against my back.
"They're finally asleep," she whispered into the cool night air. "Leo asked if we could go back to the airport tomorrow to see the big airplanes again."
I chuckled softly, turning around within her embrace to wrap my arms around her, pulling her flush against my chest. "We can buy them an airplane if they want one. Or a fleet of them."
Rosalind smiled, shaking her head. "Don't spoil them, Christopher. They need to learn the value of hard work, just like their father did before he became a corporate tycoon."
We stood in silence for a few minutes, listening to the gentle lapping of the lake against the estate’s private dock. The peace felt hard-earned, almost fragile, like a thin layer of ice over deep water.
"What happens next?" Rosalind asked quietly, her gaze shifting toward the distant treeline where the private estate gates were hidden in the dark. "Genevieve won't stay in a holding cell forever. She has high-priced defense attorneys, federal judges in her pocket, and an entire network of old-money allies who owe her favors."
"Let her try," I said, my jaw tightening as I looked out over the dark water. "Vance and the forensic accountants are already combing through her personal communications. We found evidence tonight that she didn't act alone six years ago. She had help from someone inside my own corporate executive board—someone who helped her forge the legal proxy papers while I was out of the country."
Rosalind’s eyes widened slightly in the dim moonlight. "Inside your own company? Who?"
Before I could answer, my phone—resting quietly on the small patio table beside the balcony railing—lit up with a sharp, piercing flash, vibrating violently against the glass surface.
May you like
I glanced down at the screen. It was an encrypted text alert from Mr. Vance, flagged with a red priority marker:
MR. KANE. WE DECRYPTED THE SECURE HARD DRIVE FROM MADAM GENEVIEVE’S STUDY SAFE. WE FOUND THE IDENTITY OF THE CO-CONSPIRATOR INSIDE KANE HOSPITALITY GROUP. YOU NEED TO SEE THIS IMMEDIATELY.
