The Seductive Impostor Read Free Page B

trembling hands to still enough that she could read the last section again.
    Don’t judge me harshly, Rachel. I’m not a thief. But I am guilty of being seduced by the beauty, workmanship, and timelessness of Thadd’s gifts. If you’re reading this, then they’re all yours now, and Willow’s and Marian’s. How you deal with them is up to you alone, though; keep them, discreetly sell them, or toss them into the sea if you can’t stand the idea of possessing them. Or simply return them to Thadd, if you wish. He’ll understand. He might argue with you a bit at first, but he’ll accept them back.
    Thadd respects you, Rachel, just as much as I do. You’re an intelligent woman with unbelievable talent and a strong, kind, and good heart. Please don’t tell the others what I’ve done. It’s hard enough for me to know how deeply I’ve wounded you with this secret. Don’t wound the others with such a tainted memory of me.
    I love you. Every day since you were born, I’ve marveled at receiving such a wonderful daughter. You and your sister are the fruit of a great love between your mother and me. Never forget that. The passion I have for my wife is strengthened by the love I have for my daughters. So instead of thinking badly of me, remember only the fierceness of my bond to the three of you.
    Receiving and then selfishly keeping the stolen art is my sin alone, Rachel. Not yours or Marian’s or Willow’s. And it is a sin I don’t wish to see passed down to my family. Marian doesn’t need the heartache bringing this to light would cause her. And Willow has hopes of climbing the political ladder, all the way to the governor’s mansion one day. And you, my sweet daughter, have homes to design for deserving families.
    Please, Rachel, do whatever you have to, to protect yourself and protect Marian and Willow.
    Make my sin quietly go away.
    And continue to love me despite it.
    Rachel wiped another set of teardrops from the letter before she carefully refolded the pages and set it back on the table. She stared again at the painting over the mantel.
    Thaddeus Lakeman had collected beautiful and expensive art. Everyone had known that. It was why he had hired Frank Foster to build Sub Rosa—an opulent, powerful venue in which to display his collection. It had taken her father five years to design the great mansion, and another eight years to oversee its construction.
    Since adolescence, Rachel had shadowed her father while he worked, adding her own ideas and her own touches of whimsy to the Gothic-like structure. And at her college graduation party, with her still clutching her degree to her chest, Frank Foster had presented Rachel with a full partnership in his newly formed company, Foster & Daughter Architects.
    That had been the proudest day of both of their lives.
    But now it seemed that she had helped build not only a home to display a world-renowned private collection of art, but an elaborate vault to house stolen art.
    Some of which was in her own home.
    Rachel looked up at the ceiling over her head. What had the letter said about a hidden room upstairs? She grabbed it back up and shuffled through the pages, skimming the words until she found what she was looking for.
    You’re going to have to forgive me, Rachel, for tinkering with your beautiful design. But the lovely home you built your family was lacking one small detail. When you and Willow and Marian were visiting Paris that summer, I took it upon myself to rectify your oversight. You’ve got to be proud of my own talent, daughter, for moving walls and rerouting a bit of plumbing, and still being able to disguise my work—especially from you.
    If you take the time to remeasure the rooms upstairs, you’ll discover that they don’t quite fit your original blueprints. I needed a small room, you see, to keep things in.
    Consider this our final treasure hunt together, Rachel, like