Derek held his wife’s hand admiring her strength. Bravely, she faced mourner after mourner, as each offered their condolences. No one mentioned Carlo’s recent mental state. It wasn’t as if everyone didn’t know. The unsaid tragedy was that he’d taken Silvia with him. They all pitied Sophia, losing both parents at once.
When Derek arrived in New Jersey from Taiwan, Sophia had already faced too many things alone. She’d visited the morgue. Fortunately, the coroner hadn’t allowed her to view her parents’ remains. After striking the tree their Camry burst into flames. She did identify some of their possessions. Her parent’s wedding rings, though charred, survived the inferno. Sophia recognized them immediately.
Although she grieved their loss, Sophia reasoned it was better for them to be together. She couldn’t imagine consoling her mother if her father died alone. Derek embraced his wife as she rationalized the tragedy. It was late one night while holding her trembling body, she uttered the words he never expected to hear. Though muffled by tears, her resolve was steadfast, “I’ve lost my only parents... I never want to go through this again.”
He understood what she was saying. She didn’t want to find her birth parents. He whispered, “Anyone can give birth... a parent is the person who loves you every day without condition.”
Sophia nodded into his chest. “Mine were the best. Please don’t let me forget that... if I ever change my mind... please remind me.”
He hugged her tight and promised.
*****
Other than the meal she’d shared with Tony at the French restaurant in Palo Alto, Claire hadn’t had the opportunity to practice her newly acquired languages. Nonetheless, as she traveled through Italy and Switzerland, her Italian came back with a little more than a hint of an American accent. That didn’t seem to matter. She spoke well enough to gain access to the locked vault in Geneva.
Appearing with short-dark hair and gray eyes to match the ID with the name C. Marie Rawls, Marie entered the vault with a bank official. Her hands trembled as they approached the safety deposit box once opened by Nathaniel. According to the ledgers, it was regularly accessed by Anton Rawls, usually twice a year. Claire signed the same ledger: Marie Rawls and presented her identification. The officer never flinched. He asked, “Seniora Rawls, la sua chiave?” (Ms. Rawls, do you have the key?)
“Si, signore, grazie.” (Yes, sir, thank you) She prayed the financial executive couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart or sense her wet palms. She placed the small replicated key in his outstretched palm. Marie smiled when he gently closed his fingers around her petite hand. The man was less concerned with her identity and more interested in her proximity. She responded boldly, “Signore, ti ringrazio per il vostro aiuto.” (Sir, I appreciate your assistance here)
“Forse più tardi?” (Maybe later?)
“Prima la mia missione.” (First, my mission)
He released her hand with a friendly, “Si, naturalmente.” (Yes, naturally)
With his invitation momentarily dismissed, the officer inserted a key from his large ring. Next, he took Marie’s key. When he fumbled momentarily, her breathing stopped and her heart forgot to beat. Then, all at once the metal key breached the archaic lock. The tumblers turned; he slid the long box from its home. Remembering to exhale, Marie worked diligently to maintain her stoic expression as she followed him to a private room.
Once alone, Claire opened the lid and gasped. She’d come this far, she’d given up her life, listened to Catherine’s advice... all for a virtually empty box. However, virtually was not entirely. Slowly Claire removed the documents. In the next forty-five minutes she read all the information.
Nathaniel planned everything to a T. His original intention was for Marie or Anton to tend to his fortune. He left specific instructions about maintaining an overseas cache. The money was to be constantly rotated, moved, and secured. All pertinent information regarding the accounts was to stay locked in this box. Only the person in possession of these documents could access the monies. Being as he didn’t know for sure which heir would maintain his secret, everything was accessible with a numeric code. No names were associated with the financial accounts. This layer of security also aided in concealing the true ownership. Tracing the money to a Rawls, or anyone in the United States, was virtually impossible. The Switzerland financial system specialized in maintaining hidden fortunes. Only in the case of broken laws would they share information with the United States government.
In nineteen seventy something, when Nathaniel created his hidden treasure, it probably seemed very James Bond. Claire wondered if Tony changed the rules or had gotten more high tech? She would need to find-out. She’d gone too far to turn back.
Currently there were seven different accounts. The last time monies were transferred was six months ago. It really was time for a transfer. She wondered why he hadn’t done it while recently overseas.
Claire wished for Phil’s assistance; he’d be joining her in another day. However, this was something she needed to do on her own. Feigning confidence, Marie Rawls took the documentation to the front of the institution and requested a representative.
Over the next ninety minutes Marie watched and scrutinized computer screens. Her months of required attendance in Tony’s office paid off. She frowned at unsuccessful investments and discussed better reserves for better returns. If ever a time to wear a mask, this was it. As the afternoon progressed, she systematically moved and invested over 200 million dollars. The monies were once again dispersed throughout the world market with a portion liquid and accessible. The only difference was that now she was the only one holding a means to their access.
By the time she feigned reinserting the documentation into the box, a presumed action based upon prior transactions, she was ready to faint. Tony’s personal reserve was now hers. It wasn’t stolen out of spite. Her desire for vengeance was gone. Claire willingly admitted her feelings of hate were only a close cousin to the love she now felt. And she knew Tony loved her. But thankfully, Catherine helped her see the truth. No matter how much he loved her and their child, his need to fulfill his promise to Nathaniel would always prevail.
Claire couldn’t live with that. Besides, didn’t their child deserve to live like a Rawls? With a heavy heart, Claire justified she didn’t steal his money -- only reappropriated it -- to his child.
With the papers in her purse, Marie Rawls disappeared and Isabelle Alexander stepped onto the bustling Geneva sidewalk a mega millionaire. Faces didn’t register. While in the heart of Geneva’s financial district, Isabelle didn’t notice the magnificent blue waters ahead or the grand snow covered Alps around. As she walked from the bank to her hotel, not even the phenomenal shopping within the sleek cosmopolitan buildings beckoned her.
While the slender heels of her Luciano Padovan sling-back platform pumps clicked along the sidewalk toward Lake Geneva, Claire’s self-absorbed thoughts filled every fiber of her being. How many times had she told Tony his money didn’t matter? How many times had she shunned the idea of wealth? Nevertheless, she’d just done the unthinkable. If it weren’t for the uncomfortable gray contacts, she’d surrender to the tears threatening to flow. She fought the impulse. Isabelle Alexander needed to be strong, just as Marie Rawls had been moments earlier.