The Unfinished Business

Chapter Twelve: Unfinished Business

Celeste's pulse pounded as she stared at Margaret Holloway.

She had expected many things when they set their trap—but not this. Not the daughter of the man who had fought so hard to tell Evelyn's story.

Margaret's face was lined with tension, her hands gripping the edge of the filing cabinet she had been searching through. The dim light from Adrian's flashlight cast sharp shadows across the room, making her expression even more unreadable.

Celeste swallowed. "You were the one calling me."

Margaret didn't deny it. Instead, she let out a slow, measured breath. "I didn't want to scare you. I wanted to warn you."

Adrian stepped forward, his tone cold. "You broke into the Fairmont. You followed us. You tried to shut us up. That's not a warning, Margaret. That's intimidation."

Margaret's jaw tightened. "I was trying to protect you."

Celeste narrowed her eyes. "From what?"

Margaret hesitated, glancing at the papers in the open filing cabinet as if searching for the right words. "There are people who don't want this truth coming out. People with power."

Adrian scoffed. "Power? Wren's been dead for decades."

Margaret turned to him, eyes sharp. "Do you think his legacy died with him?"

A chill ran down Celeste's spine.

She hadn't considered it before, but Margaret was right. The Wren family still held influence in Port Bellingham. And if Nathaniel Wren had orchestrated the fire for an insurance scam, that meant his wealth—his entire fortune—was built on fraud.

If that came to light now, how many people would it take down?

Celeste's voice was quiet but firm. "What do you know, Margaret?"

Margaret exhaled, rubbing a hand over her face. For the first time, she looked… exhausted.

"My father spent his whole life trying to prove what happened that night," she murmured. "He knew Evelyn was murdered. He knew the fire was deliberate. But no one would listen to him."

Celeste's throat tightened.

She thought of James Holloway's journal, of the desperate words scrawled on its pages.

Margaret continued. "After my father died, I promised myself I'd let it go. That it was over. But when you started digging, I knew you'd end up in the same place he did—"

Her gaze met Celeste's. "Fighting a battle you can't win."

Silence hung between them.

Adrian crossed his arms. "You still haven't answered the question."

Margaret sighed. "There are people in this town who have benefited from the Wren fortune for generations. People who don't want the past questioned."

Celeste felt her stomach sink. "Who?"

Margaret hesitated. "Do you really want to know?"

Celeste didn't even have to think. "Yes."

Margaret nodded slowly, then reached into her coat pocket.

Adrian tensed, but all she pulled out was a folded piece of paper.

She handed it to Celeste. "This is the last thing my father wrote before he passed. I never showed it to anyone."

Celeste unfolded the paper carefully. The handwriting was shaky, but still unmistakably James Holloway's.

It was a list of names.

Nathaniel Wren

Judge Harold Wren

Victor Langford

Councilman Richard Vaughn

Celeste's breath caught.

Adrian's expression darkened. "Vaughn? He's still in office."

Margaret nodded grimly. "And he's not the only one on that list who still holds power."

Celeste's fingers clenched around the paper. "What did they do?"

Margaret's voice was quiet. "They covered it up."

The weight of the revelation pressed on Celeste long after Margaret had left the theatre.

She sat in Adrian's car, staring out at the darkened streets of Port Bellingham, her mind spinning.

Nathaniel Wren hadn't acted alone.

The fire, Evelyn's death—it hadn't just been one man's crime. It had been protected and buried by people in power. And some of them were still alive.

Adrian sat beside her, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles were white.

"This changes everything," he muttered.

Celeste nodded, her throat tight. "It's not just about history anymore. It's about corruption. About now."

Adrian exhaled. "And if Vaughn and the others find out we know this—"

Celeste didn't need him to finish.

The warning calls. The threats. Someone was already trying to silence them.

And now they knew why.

Celeste straightened. "We can't back down."

Adrian turned to her, his expression unreadable. "You're sure?"

Celeste met his gaze, unwavering. "Evelyn didn't get justice. James Holloway didn't get justice. But we can finish what he started."

Adrian studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded.

"Then let's finish it."

Celeste looked back down at the paper in her hands, at the names written in fading ink.

The past wasn't just whispering anymore.

It was demanding to be heard.