Chapter 6: The Night the Fire Was Set
I didn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the flames.
I heard Preston shouting.
I felt the burning debris striking my back.
But now there was something new.
A question that hadn't existed before.
Had the fire really been an accident?
At 6:30 the following morning, I was already dressed when Gideon called.
“Come to Glass Tower.””
“Have you found something?””
“Yes.””
His voice was unusually tense.
“And Vivian, bring the original hospital records.””
I arrived forty minutes later.
The boardroom was occupied.
Daniel was there, along with Eleanor and a man I hadn't met before.
He introduced himself as Detective Thomas Reed, a private investigator retained by Gideon's legal team to coordinate the documentary investigation.
I sat down.
Gideon placed a large folder in front of me.
“We've recovered the original building maintenance records.””
He opened the first page.
“On the night of the fire, Preston submitted a request to disable the building's central alarm system for a scheduled electrical inspection.””
I stared at the document.
“Was there an inspection?””
“No.””
He turned another page.
“The contractor says he never received the request. The building manager says no maintenance work was authorized.””
“Then how was the system disabled?””
“Someone accessed the control panel using a temporary override code.””
Detective Reed placed a photograph on the table.
It showed a man standing outside the building's service entrance.
I recognized him immediately.
Martin Cole.
“He was there?””
“At 8:12 p.m.,” Reed confirmed.
“The footage was recovered from a neighboring property. The building's own security cameras were not recording because the maintenance authorization had temporarily disabled their backup system.””
My hands went cold.
“Why would Martin do that?””
“We're still investigating.””
Gideon leaned forward.
“But there's something else.””
He showed me a bank transfer.
The payment had been made to a private electrical contractor three days before the fire.
The amount was $48,000.
The account belonged to Preston Advisory Group.
I looked at the date.
Three days before the night I almost died.
“Was this money used to disable the alarm?””
“We don't know yet,” Reed said.
“But the contractor has agreed to provide testimony.””
I looked at Gideon.
“Why would Preston do something like this?””
Gideon remained quiet.
Then Eleanor opened another folder.
“There's a possibility that the fire was connected to a property transaction.””
She placed a building appraisal on the table.
The apartment building had been scheduled for redevelopment.
A private investment group had planned to purchase the property and demolish it.
The group included a company connected to Preston's former business partner.
I read the document.
“Was Preston involved in the sale?””
“Yes,” Eleanor said.
“He had a financial interest in the redevelopment project.””
“But he lived there.””
“He owned only a small percentage of the building's commercial interests. His apartment was rented through a separate entity.””
I stared at the appraisal.
The fire had started on the third floor.
Our apartment.
And the damage had eventually forced several tenants to leave.
“Did the redevelopment happen?””
“No. The insurance dispute delayed the project.””
I looked up.
“Insurance?””
Eleanor placed another document before me.
A policy statement.
The building's owner had received a substantial insurance settlement after the fire.
But one of the listed beneficiaries was a company registered under a name I recognized.
Mercy Recovery Initiative.
My stomach tightened.
“The medical foundation.””
“Yes,” Eleanor replied.
The same foundation that had received money from my medical reserve had also been listed in an insurance-related financial arrangement.
I leaned back.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Was Preston trying to kill me?””
Gideon looked directly at me.
“We don't have evidence establishing that.””
“But the alarm was disabled.””
“Yes.””
“And the fire started in our apartment.””
“Yes.””
“And he made money from the property transaction.””
Gideon nodded slowly.
“Those facts are serious. But we need to distinguish between evidence of financial misconduct and evidence of intentional harm.””
I looked down.
I understood.
I wanted to believe that the man I had loved for years was not capable of something so monstrous.
But I had also believed he would never betray me.
That belief had already been destroyed.
Detective Reed left shortly after noon to meet the electrical contractor.
Gideon asked me to stay.
“I want to show you something else.””
He opened a secure file on his computer.
It contained a series of emails recovered from an old company server.
The earliest was dated four months before the fire.
The sender was Preston.
The recipient was Martin Cole.
The subject line read:
*PROPERTY RESTRUCTURING — PRIVATE.*
I began reading.
We need to complete the transfer before the redevelopment announcement. The building's current valuation is too low. A major insurance event would change the position.
My breathing became shallow.
The next email was from Martin.
Are you suggesting we create a situation that triggers the policy?
Preston's response was short.
I'm suggesting we prepare for every possibility.
I looked up.
“That's not proof he caused the fire.””
“No,” Gideon said.
“But it establishes that he was discussing an insurance event before the incident.””
I read the remaining emails.
There were references to contractors, building access, and an arrangement involving a private insurer.
Then I reached an email dated the morning after the fire.
The event has created an opportunity. Do not communicate with the contractor directly. We will handle the medical reserve separately.
I stopped.
The medical reserve.
I looked at Gideon.
“He knew I would be injured.””
“Possibly. Or he knew that medical expenses would arise after the fire. We need the full context.””
I placed my hand over my mouth.
For five years, I had believed Preston was the man who stayed beside me during my recovery.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether he had been managing the consequences of something he knew more about than he had ever admitted.
My phone rang.
The caller was my mother-in-law, Evelyn Hale.
I stared at the screen.
Gideon noticed.
“Do you want to answer?””
I nodded.
“Hello?””
“Vivian.””
Evelyn sounded unusually formal.
“Where are you?””
“At a meeting.””
“I need to speak with you.””
“About what?””
“Preston tells me you're causing problems at the company.””
I closed my eyes.
“Preston has been stealing from my medical reserve.””
Silence.
Then she sighed.
“Vivian, please don't start this again.””
“Start what?””
“Accusing him of terrible things. He's under enormous pressure. You know how difficult his life has been since the accident.””
I felt something inside me go still.
“His life?””
“Yes. He had to watch his wife go through all those surgeries. Do you know what that does to a man?””
I stared at the table.
There it was again.
The familiar rewriting of history.
My pain had somehow become his burden.
“Did Preston tell you about the medical payments?”” I asked.
“He said there were some accounting errors.””
“Did he tell you about Cassidy?””
Another silence.
Then Evelyn spoke.
“Cassidy is expecting a child. You need to accept that the marriage is over.””
I laughed softly.
“That's not what I asked.””
“Vivian, I have always tried to be fair to you. But you need to understand that my son deserves happiness.””
I looked toward Gideon.
He was listening without interrupting.
I returned my attention to the phone.
“Did you know about the fire?””
Evelyn stopped breathing for a moment.
“What?””
“The night of the fire. Did you know Preston had arranged for the building's alarm system to be disabled?””
The silence that followed was so complete that I could hear the faint hum of the boardroom air conditioning.
Then she whispered:
“You should leave the past alone.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Why?””
“Because you don't understand what happened.””
“Then explain it to me.””
“I can't.””
“Can't or won't?””
Her voice became strained.
“Vivian, please. You have no idea what you're doing.””
I stood.
“Then tell me.””
She began crying.
Not loudly.
Just a quiet, broken sound.
Then she said something that changed everything.
“Preston wasn't supposed to be in that apartment that night.””
My blood ran cold.
“What?””
“He told us he was going to meet someone. He said the building would be empty.””
I looked at Gideon.
He had gone completely still.
I spoke slowly.
“Who was he meeting?””
Evelyn began sobbing.
“I don't know.””
“Evelyn, who was he meeting?””
“I only know that Martin called me after the fire. He said everything had gone wrong.””
My legs felt weak.
“What did he mean?””
“I don't know, Vivian. I swear.””
“Did you know about the disabled alarm?””
She started crying harder.
Then the call disconnected.
I stood frozen.
Gideon came around the table.
“Vivian?””
I handed him the phone.
He immediately instructed Daniel to preserve the call records and request a formal statement from Evelyn through counsel.
I sat down.
Preston hadn't been supposed to be in the apartment.
That meant the fire might not have been intended to trap him.
It might have been intended to create a different kind of opportunity.
But what opportunity?
And who had he expected to meet?
At three that afternoon, Detective Reed returned.
He carried a new folder.
“We found the contractor.””
Gideon motioned for him to continue.
“His name is Samuel Price. He has agreed to cooperate. According to his statement, Preston hired him to access the building's electrical control system.””
“Did he say why?”” I asked.
“He was told the work was part of a private insurance inspection.””
“Did he know the alarms would be disabled?””
“He says he did. But he claims Preston assured him the building would be empty.””
I swallowed.
“Did Preston know I was home?””
Reed looked at me.
“According to the contractor, Preston said you would be visiting your sister that evening.””
I stared at him.
I had planned to visit my sister.
But I had canceled at the last minute because Preston had called me, asking me to bring his forgotten briefcase home.
I remembered it now.
He had called at 7:52 p.m.
He had told me he was stuck in traffic and needed me to return to the apartment.
I had gone upstairs.
I had found him inside.
And less than an hour later, the fire started.
“Was there someone else in the building?”” I asked.
Reed nodded.
“A woman entered through the service entrance at 8:26.””
“Who?””
He turned a page.
The photograph was grainy.
But the face was recognizable.
Margaret Vaughn.
Cassidy's mother.
I looked at the image.
“Why was she there?””
“We're still trying to establish that.””
Gideon stared at the photograph.
Then he asked a question.
“Did the contractor say anything about the woman's visit?””
Reed nodded.
“He said she was supposed to collect a package.””
“What package?””
“He didn't know.””
I looked at the photograph again.
Margaret had been there twelve minutes before the fire.
The same woman who had told me to leave the past alone.
The same woman whose family trust had received money from my medical reserve.
I felt my hands trembling.
“Gideon, I need to talk to her.””
“Not yet.””
“She knows something.””
“I agree. But we need to approach her carefully.””
Reed placed a final document on the table.
“We also recovered an old visitor log from the building manager's office.””
He turned it toward me.
A name appeared in the final entry.
*Visitor: Vivian Bennett.*
The date was the night of the fire.
But the time was 8:41 p.m.
I frowned.
“That's impossible.””
“Why?”” Reed asked.
“Because I was already inside the apartment.””
He pointed to the signature.
It looked like mine.
Almost.
But the handwriting was too neat.
The final letter in Bennett had a distinctive loop that I had never used.
I stared at it.
Someone had signed my name.
Someone had entered the building under my identity.
And according to the visitor log, that person had arrived just two minutes before the fire started.
I looked at Gideon.
“Who signed this?””
Reed turned the page.
The security officer's statement was attached.
He had identified the visitor.
I read the name.
Then I read it again.
*Cassidy Vaughn.*
The room fell silent.
My husband's mistress had been inside the building on the night I was nearly killed.
And she had used my name to get in.
I left Glass Tower just after six.
Gideon insisted that his security team accompany me.
I didn't argue.
When I arrived home, Preston was waiting in the living room.
His jacket was thrown over the sofa, and an untouched glass of whiskey sat on the table.
He looked up.
“Where have you been?””
I removed my coat.
“Out.””
“With Gideon Ashford?””
I paused.
“How do you know?””
He laughed bitterly.
“Don't play games with me. People have seen you entering Glass Tower.””
I placed my handbag down.
“Is that a problem?””
His face tightened.
“You have no business involving yourself in company matters.””
“Actually, I do.””
He stood.
“You're making a fool of yourself.””
I looked at him.
“Was Cassidy in our apartment building the night of the fire?””
His expression changed.
It was brief.
But I saw it.
“What?””
“Did Cassidy enter the building that night?””
He stared at me.
“Where did you hear that?””
I felt my pulse quicken.
“Answer the question.””
He stepped closer.
“Vivian, you need to stop.””
“Why did she sign my name in the visitor log?””
For the first time, Preston looked genuinely frightened.
Then his expression hardened.
“Give me your phone.””
I didn't move.
“Why?””
“Because whatever Gideon has shown you is going to destroy your life.””
I stared at him.
“My life?””
He reached for my handbag.
I stepped back.
“Don't touch my things.””
His voice dropped.
“You don't understand what you're involved in.””
“Then explain it.””
He looked toward the staircase.
Then back at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said something that made my entire body go cold.
“Cassidy wasn't there to start the fire.””
I stared at him.
He swallowed.
“She was there to retrieve something.””
“What?””
Preston looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.
Fear.
Real fear.
Then he whispered:
“The original insurance file.””
My mouth went dry.
“What insurance file?””
He closed his eyes.
“The one that proves the fire wasn't supposed to happen that night.””
Before I could ask another question, someone knocked violently on the front door.
Three sharp blows.
Preston turned white.
I walked toward the entrance.
But he grabbed my wrist.
“Vivian, don't open that door.””
I looked down at his hand.
Then at his face.
“Why?””
His phone began ringing.
He glanced at the screen.
The caller's name was displayed clearly.
*MARGARET VAUGHN.*
He released my wrist.
I answered the door.
A woman stood outside, breathing hard, her makeup streaked with tears.
It was Margaret.
She looked directly at me.
Then she whispered:
“Vivian, you have to help me. Cassidy has disappeared.””
May you like
And before I could respond, she added the words that would make Friday night's gala far more dangerous than any of us had imagined.
“She's taken the original file—and she knows who really started the fire.””
