Chapter 3 - The Brother Adrian Recognized
I stopped in Camille's doorway.
Nobody behind me spoke.
On the laptop screen, Adrian stood inside my bedroom.
Not our bedroom.
Mine.
Three months earlier, after another argument, I had moved into the east suite.
Adrian claimed the separation embarrassed him.
Apparently it had also complicated his plan.
The man beside him wore a physician's coat.
I recognized him after several seconds.
Dr. Howard Mercer.
Lorraine's longtime friend.
The same doctor who had repeatedly suggested I was exhausted.
The same doctor who had sent supplements to the house after I complained of headaches.
Supplements.
My stomach turned.
Camille looked at me.
“I didn't know what they were doing.”
I walked toward the screen.
“Play it.”
“Elena—”
“Play it.”
She touched the trackpad.
The video continued.
Dr. Mercer handed Adrian a small bottle.
Nothing dramatic.
No sinister music.
No whispered conspiracy.
That was what made it horrible.
They sounded like men discussing paperwork.
“Half dose first,” Mercer said.
Adrian examined the label.
“And what should I expect?”
“Drowsiness. Disorientation. Maybe gaps in short-term memory.”
“How long?”
“Depends.”
Adrian frowned.
“I need consistency.”
Mercer sighed.
“You're asking me for predictability that doesn't exist.”
“Can it support the petition?”
“If documented by others.”
Adrian nodded.
“Lorraine will help.”
I heard my mother-in-law inhale behind me.
Roman turned toward her.
She lowered her eyes.
The video continued.
Dr. Mercer said:
“Adrian, I'm telling you again, don't overdo this.”
My husband's answer was immediate.
“I just need her unstable enough that nobody questions me taking over.”
Camille stopped the recording.
Silence.
Then Roman crossed the hallway.
Not toward Adrian.
Toward me.
“Elena.”
“I’m okay.”
I wasn't.
But I needed that sentence to be true eventually.
So I said it early.
Sometimes language could be a destination.
Behind Roman, Adrian reached the top step.
He saw the laptop.
Everything in him changed.
“Turn that off.”
Camille stepped backward.
“You lied to me.”
“Camille.”
“You told me you were helping her.”
“I was.”
She stared at him.
“By drugging her?”
Lorraine snapped, “Nobody drugged anyone.”
The word hit me.
I turned.
“What do you call putting something in my food without telling me?”
Lorraine's face went rigid.
Roman's voice dropped.
“You knew.”
“I knew Howard prescribed something.”
“For a woman he hadn't examined?”
“He knew her symptoms.”
“My symptoms?” I asked.
Lorraine looked at me.
“You were emotional.”
I laughed once.
The sound surprised me.
“Emotional.”
“Elena, you were suspicious of Adrian. You accused him of affairs. You stopped attending dinners. You isolated yourself.”
“He was having an affair.”
Vivienne had followed everyone upstairs.
She flinched.
Lorraine ignored her.
“You became hostile.”
“Because your son was stealing from me.”
“We didn't know that.”
Roman's eyes sharpened.
“We?”
Lorraine realized the mistake.
Too late.
Matteo leaned against the railing.
“You should probably stop talking.”
Charles remained downstairs.
I wondered why.
Then I understood.
He wanted distance.
People like Charles survived scandals by standing just outside the photograph.
I turned back toward Camille.
“How did you get the recording?”
Her hands shook.
“I installed the camera.”
“Why?”
She hesitated.
“Because I thought Adrian was stealing jewelry.”
Vivienne stared at her.
Camille looked embarrassed.
“Mom's emerald earrings disappeared after dinner six months ago. Then Elena's diamond tennis bracelet went missing. Adrian blamed staff both times.”
“I remember.”
A housekeeper had been fired.
Mrs. Alvarez.
She had worked for us six years.
I had believed Adrian when he showed me “evidence.”
My stomach tightened again.
Camille continued.
“I thought somebody was taking things upstairs, so I put a small camera in the hallway.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I wasn't watching it regularly. Then three weeks ago I checked because another necklace disappeared.”
She looked toward her brother.
“I saw him.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“You invaded our privacy.”
Camille's mouth fell open.
“That is what you're worried about?”
His eyes were fixed on the laptop.
Not her.
Evidence.
That's what he saw.
Roman saw it too.
“Copy everything.”
Camille nodded.
Adrian moved.
Gabriel stepped between him and the desk.
Again, no aggression.
Just placement.
“You're not touching that computer.”
“This is my sister's property.”
Camille looked at him.
“No. It's mine.”
“Camille.”
“No.”
Something changed in her face.
Maybe she'd spent her entire life obeying Adrian too.
Tonight apparently several of us were done.
She unplugged a small external drive.
“I made copies.”
Adrian froze.
Roman asked, “How many?”
“Three.”
“Where?”
“One with my attorney.”
Roman nodded approvingly.
“One in a safe-deposit box.”
“And the third?”
Camille looked at me.
“I mailed it to Elena.”
I blinked.
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“I didn't get anything.”
Everyone turned toward Adrian.
His face gave him away.
Camille whispered, “You took it.”
He said nothing.
I remembered the mail tray in the foyer.
Adrian often went through it first.
I had accepted that as habit.
Another tiny behavior changing meaning.
“What did you do with it?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Where is it?”
“I don't know what she's talking about.”
Camille's voice rose.
“It was overnight delivery. I tracked it. Someone signed for it at 9:12 this morning.”
Roman asked, “Name?”
She checked her phone.
“D. Walsh.”
Adrian's assistant.
Interesting.
I looked at him.
“Where is Derek?”
Adrian's eyes moved toward the stairs.
Nobody answered.
Derek Walsh had been at the party earlier.
I remembered seeing him beside the podium.
The black folder.
The fake charitable papers.
“Find him,” Roman said.
Matteo and Luca went downstairs.
I remained with Camille.
My sister-in-law sat on the edge of her bed.
Suddenly she looked much younger than twenty-nine.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For knowing something was wrong and waiting.”
That sentence hurt because it was honest.
I sat beside her.
“Why did you wait?”
She wiped her face.
“Because Adrian always has an explanation.”
I understood that too well.
“He said Dr. Mercer was giving you something for anxiety. He said you knew but didn't want anyone else knowing.”
“And you believed him?”
“At first.”
“What changed?”
“The jewelry.”
I frowned.
“What about it?”
“After I saw the video, I searched Adrian's study.”
Lorraine stiffened.
“Camille.”
Her daughter looked at her.
“No, Mom.”
Then back to me.
“I found pawn receipts.”
For several seconds, I didn't understand.
“Pawn?”
“Not exactly a pawnshop. A private jewelry broker.”
My mother's sapphire earrings flashed through my mind.
Gone.
Adrian had said I misplaced them.
I had cried for two days because they were the last birthday gift my mother gave me.
“Which jewelry?”
Camille's eyes filled.
“Elena…”
“Which jewelry?”
“Your mother's sapphires.”
I stood.
Roman caught my elbow.
I pulled away gently.
Not angry with him.
I just needed space.
“Where are they?”
“I don't know.”
“Who bought them?”
“I don't know.”
“How much?”
“Seven hundred thousand.”
I stared at her.
She continued.
“The diamond bracelet was ninety-two. Mom's emerald earrings, forty.”
Lorraine looked stunned.
“My earrings?”
Camille nodded.
Apparently Adrian stole from everyone.
That almost made me admire the efficiency.
Almost.
Vivienne whispered, “He gave me sapphires.”
I turned.
Her hand went instinctively toward her ears.
Tonight she wore diamonds.
But I remembered photographs.
A gala two months earlier.
Blue stones.
My mother's earrings.
“Where are they?”
“At my apartment.”
Roman said, “You'll return them.”
Vivienne nodded immediately.
I believed her.
Not because she was suddenly good.
Because she understood the situation had changed.
Adrian did too.
He looked increasingly isolated.
That was when Matteo returned upstairs.
“Derek's gone.”
Adrian looked relieved.
Only for a second.
Matteo saw it.
“So you did know.”
“I employ hundreds of people. I don't track everyone's movements.”
“His car is here.”
Silence.
Luca appeared behind Matteo.
“And his phone.”
He held up a smartphone.
“Found near the service entrance.”
My skin prickled.
Roman's expression changed.
“Where's Derek?”
Luca shook his head.
“We don't know.”
I looked toward Adrian.
“Did he leave?”
“How should I know?”
But he was sweating.
The first real sign of panic.
Sarah came upstairs with a second attorney, a man one of my brothers had apparently called.
She looked at the screen.
Then at me.
“You should contact police.”
Adrian scoffed.
“For what?”
Sarah's eyes moved toward him.
“Potential poisoning. Forgery. Financial exploitation.”
“Poisoning?”
“It may be medication misuse, but law enforcement can determine that.”
Lorraine whispered, “This is becoming absurd.”
I turned toward her.
“No. It became absurd when you watched your son punish me over his mistress's dress.”
That ended her objections.
My phone buzzed.
Another unknown message.
This time there was no photograph.
Only text.
DEREK KNOWS WHERE THE ORIGINAL AGREEMENT IS.
I showed Roman.
“Same number?”
“Yes.”
Another message arrived.
HE DID NOT LEAVE THE HOUSE.
Everyone stared at the screen.
Luca immediately called downstairs.
“Check every room.”
The mansion was enormous.
Three floors.
Guest wing.
Wine cellar.
Home theater.
Staff quarters.
Storage rooms.
Adrian looked annoyed rather than worried.
That worried me.
“Where would Derek go?” I asked.
“No idea.”
“Think.”
“I said I don't know.”
Camille suddenly looked toward the hallway.
“What about Dad's old office?”
Adrian turned too quickly.
Roman noticed.
“What old office?”
Camille stood.
“The room behind the library.”
Lorraine shook her head.
“It's been locked for years.”
“Adrian uses it.”
Everyone looked at her.
She swallowed.
“I've seen him come out.”
Adrian's face turned hard.
“Camille, enough.”
She walked past him.
This time nobody stopped her.
We followed.
Downstairs, guests remained clustered in the ballroom.
Some had finally begun leaving now that the gate stood open.
Outside, police vehicles were visible approaching the estate.
Sarah must have called.
Adrian saw them.
His expression sharpened.
“You called cops into my home?”
I answered.
“My home.”
Roman almost smiled.
We crossed the library.
Camille pushed against a carved wooden panel.
Nothing happened.
She frowned.
“There used to be a release.”
Gabriel examined the molding.
“Here.”
A section clicked.
The hidden door opened three inches.
A stale smell escaped.
Camille pulled it wider.
Darkness.
“Derek?” she called.
No answer.
Roman switched on his phone flashlight.
We entered.
The old office contained a desk, filing cabinets, and shelves covered in dust.
One lamp burned near the back wall.
Someone had been there recently.
A laptop sat open.
Beside it lay an overnight-delivery envelope.
My name was printed across the front.
Camille's package.
I walked toward it.
Adrian stayed at the doorway.
Roman noticed.
I opened the envelope.
Empty.
“He took the drive.”
Camille whispered, “No.”
Then we heard a sound.
Three knocks.
Not from the door.
From behind the wall.
Everyone stopped.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Roman moved toward the bookshelves.
“Derek?”
A muffled voice answered.
“Elena?”
My blood turned cold.
Gabriel began checking the wall.
He found another latch.
A narrow storage closet opened.
Derek Walsh stumbled forward.
Alive.
Terrified.
His wrists were bound with plastic ties.
There was no serious visible injury, only exhaustion and fear.
Sarah immediately called toward the arriving officers.
Derek looked straight at Adrian.
Then at me.
“He knows you found the transfer.”
I crouched beside him.
“Who put you in here?”
Derek's eyes remained fixed on my husband.
“I can prove everything.”
Adrian backed away.
Derek swallowed.
“There's one thing Elena still doesn't know.”
“What?”
He looked toward the empty overnight envelope.
“The plan wasn't supposed to end with her losing control of the money.”
My chest tightened.
“What was supposed to happen?”
Derek opened his mouth.
Then the electricity throughout the mansion suddenly went out.
May you like
The entire house disappeared into darkness.
And somewhere above us, a woman screamed my name.
