Beckett sighed. “It’s complicated. Lane was fairly young and in perfect health when he died. He was also the kind of man, in the position he was in, who believed he would live forever.” His laugh was a tangled note of loss and bitterness. “Do you know how he passed?”
“Aida only ever said he had a heart attack.” Even though, it had taken weeks of pestering her to get an answer.
“He’d just had his annual checkup with one of the top doctors in the city, including an echocardiogram that came back perfectly sound.” He shot me sidelong glance filled with mystery. “There are some people who think he was murdered.”
The words impacted with my gut like a sucker punch, breath exploding from between my lips.
“Who would have done something like that?” I asked with the last of the air in my lungs.
“A great many of people. Lane was one of the most powerful men in the country, Bianca. His holdings totalled the billions. A man like that has enemies.”
“The Morellis,” I surmised, blinded momentarily by the idea of Bryant––of Tiernan?––murdering my father.
“Yes,” he said cautiously. “But there are other options, too. A few years before he died, Lane and I started a rather successful green energy technology innovation and investment company.”
“Colombe Energy.”
“Exactly.” He reached over and patted my thigh in a grandfatherly way. “Inspired by his daughter.”
“He was the one who taught me about green energy, not the other way around,” I said. “But it is nice to know he named it for me.”
“He started it for you,” Beckett corrected as we crossed the Queensboro Bridge into Manhattan. “Lane loved all his children. You could say a lot about him, but he was a good father who loved his kids more than anything. But raising you and then Brando was different for him. He couldn’t give you the money and connections he could give his legitimate children. But he could give you a better world. Not just a cleaner one, one that stood a chance against global warming and the climate crisis, but a better world for you.” He paused. “No matter what happened, he wanted you, Brando and Aida to be secure. So, he created Colombe Energy with the intention to give it to you.”
“What?” For the third time in thirty minutes, I was breathless. “Can you do that? Just…give someone a company?”
Beckett laughed. “It’s not as easy as simply handing it over, no, but he had contingencies in place. Winston was his heir at Halcyon, but Lane made sure Colombe Energy was separate from the holding company so he, and Caroline, wouldn’t be able to intervene when the time came for you to take it over.”
“As in run it?” I couldn’t fathom it. Dad had always encouraged me to apply to New York University, even knowing as he must have how precarious a situation that would be for him, but he didn’t urge me to choose between studying art conservatism or business. The idea that he would leave an entire business to me was just…shocking. Especially after we received absolutely nothing when he died.
Beckett nodded. “Only if you wanted to.” He laughed. “Lane wasn’t above blatant nepotism. If you want to pursue art, he was prepared to sell his majority shares of the company to you.”
“Who runs it now?”
“Me,” Beckett admitted. “As I said, Lane and I started the company together. I worked in energy long before I became CEO of Colombe Energy.”
“Did he tell you all of this?” I asked as we passed The Met on our left and turned down a side street. “How could he have thought so far ahead, but let us nothing in his will?”
“It was…complicated as I said. Caroline watched his finances very carefully. She was––is––a very jealous woman. He did talk about drawing up a separate will for you, Brandon, and Aida, but when he died, there was no trace of it.”
I hesitated as we drove a few blocks away from Central Park and descended into underground parking beneath a glass fronted skyscraper. Even though Beckett hadn’t told Caroline about my existence, even though he was being forthright with me, there was something about his manner that raised my suspicions.
I’d learned that no one did anything in this world for nothing.
So what did Beckett Fairchild want?
“Come on,” he interrupted my thoughts as he parked and opened his car door. “We’re here.”
I followed him out of the car and into the underground elevator, watching as he pressed the button for the uppermost floor of the building.
“Tiernan Morelli found out about me,” I started slowly as I watched the floors tick by. “Obviously, you must have known that when he showed up at the funeral.”
Beckett made an unintelligible noise in his throat. “Yes. I was there to make sure you and Brando ended up with the right people. When Tiernan showed up…I admit, I was at a momentary loss of what to do. He acted quickly.”