Chapter 2 - When the Lights Went Out
Preston stopped when he saw Adrian holding the security card.
For one second, nobody moved.
Emergency lights painted the gallery in dim red strips. Guests crowded toward the lobby. Staff members called for calm. Somewhere in the darkness, Eleanor Ashford demanded that someone contact building security.
Iris remained behind the marble pedestal.
"Preston?"
His face changed instantly.
Confusion replaced alarm.
"What happened?"
Adrian stood.
"Interesting question."
Preston noticed the card.
"I found the electrical panel door open," he said. "I was looking for someone."
"Through a staff corridor?"
"The lights went out."
"So you walked toward the source."
Preston looked at Iris.
"Are you all right?"
She stood slowly.
"I don't know."
He moved toward her.
Adrian stepped between them.
Preston stopped.
"Get out of my way."
"No."
"He's my ex-husband," Iris said automatically.
Adrian glanced at her.
"That doesn't improve his access."
Something about the sentence nearly made her laugh despite the fear.
Then she touched her throat.
The necklace was still there.
All thirty-two stones.
"What is that card?" she asked.
Adrian handed it to her.
Her fingers went cold.
She recognized the photograph.
The man pictured was Eric Nolan, the guard assigned in the confirmation email.
Across the back:
DON'T LET HER LEAVE.
"Maybe he wrote it as an instruction," Preston said.
Iris looked at him.
"To whom?"
Preston didn't answer.
Adrian did.
"Exactly."
The main lights returned.
Everyone blinked.
A gallery employee hurried over.
"Ms. Dunn, Mrs. Ashford wants the necklace secured immediately."
"Yes."
Iris unclasped it.
Her hands shook.
Adrian noticed.
Without touching her, he positioned himself between her and the crowd while she placed the necklace inside its presentation case.
Eleanor arrived.
"What happened?"
"We're finding out," Iris said.
Eleanor looked at Adrian.
"Apparently."
That tone again.
Recognition.
Iris turned.
"You know him too."
Eleanor was silent.
Adrian said, "Later."
"No."
"Iris—"
"No. I've spent half my life letting people decide when I'm allowed to know things."
She looked at Eleanor.
"Who is he?"
Before Eleanor answered, a uniformed gallery security officer approached.
"We checked the electrical room. The main breaker was manually shut down."
Silence.
"Camera footage?" Adrian asked.
"Security cameras lost power too."
"Backup?"
The officer hesitated.
"Disabled approximately eleven minutes before the outage."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
"Who has access?"
"Board members. Senior gallery staff."
Iris looked at Preston.
He laughed once.
"You cannot seriously be suggesting I sabotaged my own gallery."
"Not your gallery," Eleanor said.
Preston's expression hardened.
"The board's gallery."
Adrian handed the access card to the officer.
"Preserve that."
The officer looked at Adrian.
Then froze.
Recognition spread across his face.
"Mr. Vale."
Iris stared.
Not Preston.
Adrian.
The officer straightened.
"I didn't realize you were attending tonight."
"I wasn't."
Preston muttered something under his breath.
Iris heard only one word.
Brother.
Her head snapped around.
"What?"
Adrian looked at Preston.
Then at Iris.
"I told you my name."
"You told me your name was Adrian Vale."
"Yes."
"You didn't mention that you were related to him."
"You didn't ask."
"I asked whether you knew him."
"Technically, you asked if he knew me."
"This is not the moment for technicalities."
Despite everything, Eleanor covered a smile.
Iris pointed between the men.
"Brother?"
"Half brother," Preston said.
The contempt in his voice made the distinction sound like an accusation.
Iris stared at Adrian.
Preston had mentioned a half brother exactly twice during their marriage.
Never by name.
Only as the family disgrace.
A man who had walked away from their father's respectable businesses and built an empire nobody discussed openly.
Stories followed Adrian Vale.
Some exaggerated.
Some contradictory.
None comforting.
He owned nightclubs, private security firms, logistics companies, and half a dozen buildings downtown. People said judges attended his charity dinners and men who threatened his employees tended to change their minds quickly.
Preston had once called him the most dangerous man in the city.
Iris looked at Adrian's black suit.
His tattoos.
His earpiece.
Then remembered straightening his tie.
"You're not my bodyguard."
"No."
"You let me think you were."
"Yes."
"I told you I was paying you four hundred dollars."
"I remember."
"You danced with me."
"That wasn't in the contract."
"There was no contract!"
A few frightened guests looked over.
Iris lowered her voice.
"Why?"
Adrian's expression became serious.
"Because your message contained S-417."
She looked at the card.
"The reference number?"
"Not Sentinel's reference number."
"What is it?"
"A case number."
"For what?"
Adrian looked toward Preston.
"Something my people have been investigating for six months."
Preston scoffed.
"Here we go."
"What kind of investigation?" Iris asked.
"Diamond theft."
The gallery seemed suddenly too quiet.
Iris looked toward her necklace inside the glass case.
"No."
"I didn't say your diamonds were stolen."
"You looked at my necklace the second I walked up to you."
"Because I recognized one of the stones."
Her stomach dropped.
"That's impossible."
"The center diamond has a microscopic flaw shaped like a crescent near the lower pavilion."
Iris knew exactly what he meant.
She had seen it under magnification.
"How do you know that?"
"Because three years ago that stone belonged to my mother."
Preston went white.
Iris saw it.
So did Adrian.
Their eyes met.
"Where did you buy your stones?" Adrian asked.
"Vale Heritage Imports."
Preston answered before she could.
"A reputable supplier."
Adrian looked at him.
"Owned by you."
"Managed by me."
Iris stepped backward.
Preston had introduced her to the supplier during their marriage.
After the divorce, she had continued using them because their certification paperwork was impeccable.
Every diamond in the Ashford necklace had come through them.
"I paid for every stone," Iris said.
"I believe you," Adrian replied.
Preston laughed.
"Convenient."
Iris turned on him.
"What?"
"You wanted your big moment. Maybe you didn't ask enough questions about why a tiny studio suddenly qualified for preferred pricing."
Her mouth opened.
Preferred pricing.
He had arranged it.
Years ago.
"I never asked you for that."
"No. You simply benefited."
Adrian moved toward Preston.
"Careful."
"Or what?"
"Or you'll say something you can't take back."
Preston smiled.
"Iris deserves the truth."
"Then give it to her."
The brothers stared at each other.
Eleanor interrupted.
"Not here."
She pointed toward her private office.
"All of you."
Inside, Adrian locked the door.
Iris remained standing.
"Start talking."
Adrian did.
His mother, Celeste Vale, had owned a private collection of rare stones. After her death, several disappeared before the estate inventory.
Adrian had suspected internal theft.
Six months earlier, one stone resurfaced in Europe.
Another appeared at auction.
Both traced indirectly to shell companies connected with Vale Heritage Imports.
"Preston's company," Iris said.
"Our father's company," Preston corrected.
"Which you control."
"With a board."
Adrian continued.
"Three weeks ago, we learned another missing stone had entered a private commission."
"Mine."
"Possibly."
Iris stared at the wall.
Nine months.
She had spent nine months making the necklace.
If even one diamond was stolen, her reputation could be destroyed.
If more were stolen—
Her knees weakened.
Adrian pulled out a chair.
She didn't take it.
"I don't need you to rescue me."
"I know."
"Then stop looking at me like I'm going to break."
"I'm looking at you like someone deliberately put stolen property into your supply chain."
That stopped her.
"Deliberately?"
"Your order was too specific."
Preston shook his head.
"Paranoia."
Adrian ignored him.
"Thirty-two stones. Eleven potentially connected to old inventory numbers. One confirmed visually."
Iris's breathing slowed.
Not because she was calmer.
Because she was beginning to understand.
"Someone wanted those diamonds around my neck tonight."
Adrian nodded.
"And then my guard canceled."
"Yes."
"And somebody shut off the lights."
"Yes."
She looked at Preston.
He was no longer smiling.
Eleanor crossed her arms.
"Why would anyone do that?"
Adrian answered quietly.
"Because if the necklace disappeared while Iris was wearing it, the easiest suspect wouldn't be the supplier."
Iris felt sick.
"It would be me."
Nobody contradicted her.
Her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
It showed Iris entering the gallery two hours earlier.
Taken from across the street.
Beneath it was a message.
YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT WHEN YOUR GUARD DID.
Adrian took the phone.
A second message arrived.
ASK PRESTON WHAT HAPPENED TO THE FIRST NECKLACE.
Iris looked up.
Preston had seen it.
His face drained of color.
"What first necklace?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"Preston."
"It doesn't matter."
Adrian stepped closer.
"What necklace?"
Preston backed toward the door.
"I said it doesn't matter."
Iris grabbed his sleeve.
"Tell me."
He looked at her hand.
Then her face.
For the first time that night, Preston seemed genuinely afraid.
"Before we met," he whispered, "there was another designer."
Iris's fingers loosened.
"What happened to her?"
Preston swallowed.
"She disappeared."
The office telephone rang.
Nobody moved.
Eleanor finally answered.
"Yes?"
Her expression changed.
She slowly held the receiver toward Iris.
"It's for you."
"Who is it?"
May you like
Eleanor stared at Preston.
"A woman who says she's the designer who disappeared."
