Chapter 59
Gatsby
I stood on my dock, the early fall breeze penetrating my suit jacket, causing a light shiver that I fought against as I stared across the lake. He was having another party.
I knew what he was doing. His staff wasn’t as loyal as he thought them to be. They'd told me about his intimate parties. Almost every other day. It was exhausting them, having to clean up during the day and turn around and work all night as well.
They told me everything I wanted to know about his guests, their conversations, and Max himself, his comings and goings, but whenever I asked about Daisy, they didn't have much to say. And when I inquired about Lydia, they completely clammed up.
It was odd.
What were they hiding?
Once I was too cold to be comfortable, I left the dock and went inside and up to my office. I was going to call the private investigator I'd hired to see if there was anything new to report.
Dewayne came into the room, and I looked up from my computer screen. "Sir, Stephanie Carter came by to relay some information."
"Came by?"
Stephanie was one of Max Stanton's housekeepers. Whenever she had something to tell us, she called. She never came by.
He nodded, entered the room, and shut the door behind him. He sat in the chair in front of my desk, leaning forward and clutching his hands. "She was distraught. Crying, shaking, having trouble articulating what had happened."
I stood quickly.
"What happened? Is Daisy okay? What about Lydia?" I wasn't entirely sure why I was concerned for the little girl, but I loved Daisy, and if Daisy had a child, then I would have to love it as well.
"Daisy is fine. It's Max and his friends. They're sick." Dewayne went on to tell me about the Champagne Circle being caught in the knick of time before they assaulted a group of children. With each detail he gave, the more red I saw. I squeezed my fists and paced, my entire body shaking with rage and revulsion.
"They're fucking dead," I said when he finished his story.
Dewayne stood. "How do you want to proceed?"
I went to my desk and began ripping papers from a folder I'd been studying. I laid out the images of each member of the circle.
"Let's have them over for dinner."
"Thank you, thank you all. It's truly been an honor to perform at the same opera house that my parents met and fell in love. I never thought this could happen, so it's truly a dream come true," Daisy told the news reporter holding the microphone in front of her. She looked so beautiful, in her full costume with hair and makeup. I'd seen the show tonight and was blown away by the beauty and grace of the full production.
I'd wanted to speak to her at the Theater, but Max was there as well. He'd had a dozen red roses delivered to her room, so I sent a hundred black ones. She was holding a bouquet of the black ones as she did her interview for the news.
"Daisy, is there anything you want to say to your fans?" a woman asked. Daisy blinked and considered her words for a moment before nodding.
"Yes. My dream was a green light, always close but out of reach. I stretched and fought and chased that light, until finally, tonight, I was able to capture it. People out there, watching, paying attention, looking for guidance, fight for your green light."
I clicked pause on the video, and rewound it to listen to her say it again. She wasn't talking to her fans. She was talking to me.
Fight for your green light.
I stood. These last two weeks had been eventful to say the least. In the span of fourteen days, Dean, Nathen, and Yong had each been the guest of honor at their own dinners. It was risky, picking people who lived in the area back to back, that also had a lot of power and wealth. People were going to look for these men, but I was too angry to care.
They deserved to fucking die for every person they'd hurt, or would have gone on to hurt. I was saving more people than anyone could ever truly know. The only one left was... Max.
I'd wanted him to be last, because I needed him to know I was coming for him. And he did, indeed, know. Stephanie, his housekeeper, had told us that he was losing it at home. Good.
So long as he kept his hands off Daisy, let him stew in what was coming.
Dewayne came in to confirm that things had been taken care of with Yong Ji Hoon, my latest dinner guest.
"Everything is in place, sir. He has arrived in Sweden safely."
Considering people would be looking for these men, we had to adjust our normal routines. We couldn't simply dispose of their bodies, never to be found again, never to be looked for even. These men had to be discovered. In three weeks, someone would find him, having died from what will appear to be a violent, brutal suicide, just like his friends. We’d made sure that any evidence of dismemberment was hidden, and along with what was left of his body, they'd find the suicide note he wrote.
It was difficult, but it was necessary.
Fight for your green light , she said. Well, I'd fight anyone and everything to capture it.
"Now, on to our last guest," I said, sitting back down. "I am excited for dinner. Jules said he was planning on a cake for dessert."
"Yes, about that. I think it might be harder to get him here."
"I did consider that. We can wait as long as we need to. If he wants to play games."
"I—Sir, the private detective is here."
It was almost midnight .
"Send him in." A moment later, a man came in, looking very pleased with himself.
"Good evening, sir, I know it's late, but I thought it was a safe assumption you'd be up. Even so, I knew you'd want this information now. I couldn't wait."
"Good call, Will, sit. You want a drink?" I went to the mini bar and prepared myself a drink.
"Oh, yes, please, whatever you're drinking. I'm sure you've got something good." He chuckled. "Fitting for what I've got."
"And what is that, exactly?" I asked, returning to the other side of the room. I handed him his drink and went around to sit at my desk.
"I was finally able to break through everything on Lydia Stanton and Daisy Lovelace." He took a gulp of his drink and reached into his bag, pulling out his laptop. "I think I know why everything was kept so tight-lipped."
He set his drink on my desk, opened the computer, and typed quickly. He turned his screen to face me. "This will all be sent directly to you, of course, but I needed to see your face when you saw this." He grinned.
I took the laptop and set it down so I could scroll the documents he'd pulled up.
"What exactly am I reading?" I asked sternly.
"Look at the dates, Gatsby. Lydia was born May 12th, four years ago, which means Daisy Lovelace got pregnant nine months before."
I raised my head and tried to do the math. Nine months before May was...
I'd stopped breathing. No, this couldn't be right.
Will nodded slowly. "You were arrested that same month. Which could mean nothing, except for this video I found. "
He turned his computer back to him, clicked a few buttons, then returned it to me, a video pulled up.
"Just push Play."
"What is this?" I asked, eyeing him warily.
"That is Max Stanton talking to Daisy Lovelace while she waits for a bus. The building she'd just come out of had a number of security cameras. Considering the nature of the business, they keep records for a very, very long time."
I pushed Play and watched the two of them talking. The video had no sound, but I could see that she'd been crying, and he seemed smug, happy even, to have seen her. He offered her his hand, and she frowned, before taking it, seeming to make an agreement.
"What is the business? Where are they?" I asked, not taking my eyes off the two in the video.
"It's an abortion clinic. I have reason to believe that your Daisy was pregnant and second-guessed her original plans that day. This video seems to prove my theory. Gatsby, I think Lydia Stanton is your child, not Max's."