Chapter 2 - The Man Who Never Raised His Voice
The photograph loaded slowly.
Elena stopped breathing.
It showed a baby wrapped in a pale yellow blanket.
On the back of the photograph, visible because someone had photographed both sides, were four handwritten words.
Elena — Bellamy — September 1993.
Dominic took the phone.
“Do you recognize the handwriting?”
“No.”
“Bellamy?”
Elena looked back toward the boutique.
“No.”
Dominic called his security chief.
“Mason. I need the origin of a number.”
Elena touched his arm.
“No threats.”
He looked at her.
“Information.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
She knew Dominic well enough to hear the carefully chosen wording.
“Dominic.”
He sighed.
“That’s all.”
The sedan remained parked.
Elena enlarged the baby photograph.
There was something behind the infant.
White fabric.
A woman’s hand.
And a gold bracelet shaped like a vine.
Elena knew that bracelet.
Her mother had worn it in nearly every photograph Elena possessed from childhood.
“That's my mother.”
Dominic leaned closer.
“You’re certain?”
“She wore that bracelet.”
“Where was this picture taken?”
“I don’t know.”
But she did.
Not consciously.
Something about the white molding behind the baby disturbed a memory she could not reach.
Dominic’s phone rang again.
Samuel Reed.
Dominic put him on speaker.
“The property is complicated,” Samuel said. “Bellamy Bridal isn’t just a retail company. Bennett owns forty-nine percent. The remaining fifty-one percent belongs to Bellamy Holdings.”
“Who controls Bellamy Holdings?”
“That’s where it gets strange.”
Elena looked at Dominic.
Samuel continued.
“The controlling beneficiary is sealed through an old family trust.”
“Can you buy Bennett’s interest?”
“She’s leveraged heavily. Her lender would listen.”
“How heavily?”
“Enough that a cash acquisition could happen quickly.”
Elena shook her head.
“Dominic.”
He muted the phone.
“What?”
“You are not buying a building because somebody insulted me.”
“It’s not a building.”
“That distinction is not helping.”
He leaned back.
“I haven’t bought anything.”
“You’re discussing percentages.”
“I discuss percentages recreationally.”
Despite herself, Elena laughed.
It lasted only a second.
Dominic unmuted the call.
“Find the trust beneficiary.”
“I’m already working on it.”
“Call me.”
They drove to Elena’s apartment.
Dominic owned a penthouse downtown, but Elena had refused to abandon the apartment she had rented before meeting him.
Her father had helped her paint the kitchen.
She was not ready to leave it.
Inside, she placed the pearl button and her phone on the table.
Dominic studied the message again.
“Someone knew you were going to Bellamy.”
“Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“You think she sent it?”
“No.”
The certainty surprised her.
“Why?”
“She was scared.”
“That doesn't make her innocent.”
“No. It means she’s afraid of someone else.”
Elena sank into a chair.
“Today was supposed to be fun.”
Dominic crouched beside her.
“I know.”
“I was supposed to complain about lace and drink champagne and buy something ridiculously impractical.”
“You can still complain about lace.”
She smiled weakly.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For not telling me I looked beautiful when I was standing there half naked and crying.”
“You did.”
“Dominic.”
“But it seemed strategically unwise.”
She laughed again.
Then someone knocked.
Dominic immediately stood.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Two knocks.
His expression relaxed.
“Mason.”
Dominic opened the door.
Mason Price entered carrying a slim laptop.
He was broad-shouldered, gray-eyed, and spoke with the economical manner of someone who considered unnecessary sentences a security risk.
“The number is disposable,” Mason said.
“Camera?”
“Street camera caught the sender.”
He opened the laptop.
A grainy image appeared.
A woman stood across from Bellamy Bridal.
Baseball cap.
Dark glasses.
Long coat.
Elena leaned forward.
“Can you enhance it?”
“Already did.”
Mason changed images.
The woman was older.
Maybe sixty.
Silver-blonde hair escaped beneath the cap.
Elena’s stomach tightened.
“The woman upstairs.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You saw her?”
“In the window.”
Mason clicked again.
Another image appeared.
The woman entering Bellamy through a side door two hours before Elena’s appointment.
Then another.
Vanessa entering through the same door.
Forty-three minutes before Elena arrived.
Elena went still.
“No.”
Mason said nothing.
Dominic’s voice softened.
“Elena.”
“She told me she came directly from home.”
Mason closed the laptop halfway.
“There’s more.”
“Show me.”
The next image came from a parking garage camera.
Vanessa stood beside the silver-haired woman.
They were arguing.
Vanessa handed her an envelope.
The woman handed Vanessa something in return.
A small box.
Elena stared.
“What was in it?”
“We don’t know.”
Dominic asked, “Identity?”
“Working on it.”
Elena stood.
“I’m calling Vanessa.”
Dominic caught her wrist gently.
“Not yet.”
“She lied to me.”
“Yes.”
“She knew something.”
“Yes.”
“So why would I wait?”
“Because right now, Vanessa doesn’t know that you know.”
Elena hated that he was right.
“What do I do?”
“Go on with your day.”
She stared at him.
“My day?”
“You have a tasting at four.”
“How do you know that?”
“You left your wedding planner open on my kitchen counter.”
“You read it?”
“I saw cake.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Cake attracts attention.”
For the next few hours, Elena attempted normality.
It failed spectacularly.
At the tasting, vanilla tasted like cardboard.
Chocolate tasted like suspicion.
Vanessa sent three texts.
I’m sorry.
Can we talk?
Please don’t shut me out.
Elena answered none.
At six thirty, Samuel called again.
Dominic was standing by Elena’s window.
“I found the beneficiary,” Samuel said.
“Name?”
A hesitation.
“Technically, there isn’t one.”
Dominic frowned.
“Explain.”
“The trust was created thirty-two years ago by Arthur Bellamy, founder of Bellamy Bridal. His daughter inherited the controlling interest.”
“Name.”
“Margaret Bellamy.”
Elena dropped her fork.
Dominic looked at her.
“My mother’s name,” Elena whispered, “was Margaret Brooks.”
Samuel became silent.
Dominic said, “Continue.”
“The trust says ownership passes to Margaret Bellamy’s biological child when that child reaches thirty years of age.”
Elena could hear her heartbeat.
“I’m thirty-three.”
Samuel exhaled.
“Yes.”
Dominic looked at Elena.
“What happened to Margaret?”
“According to public records, Margaret Bellamy died twenty-nine years ago.”
Elena stood so quickly her chair scraped backward.
“No.”
“Elena?”
“My mother didn’t die twenty-nine years ago.”
Samuel paused.
“When did she die?”
“She didn’t.”
Silence filled the apartment.
“My mother left when I was sixteen.”
Dominic stared at her.
“She called me six years ago. We argued. She hung up. But she was alive.”
Samuel spoke carefully.
“Then either the death record is false...”
“Or?”
“Or Margaret Brooks was not Margaret Bellamy.”
Elena pressed her fingers against her mouth.
The doorbell rang.
Everyone froze.
Mason checked the hallway camera.
“It’s Vanessa.”
Elena moved toward the door.
Dominic stopped her.
“Wait.”
Vanessa knocked again.
“Elena? Please.”
Her voice cracked.
“I know you’re in there.”
Elena approached.
“Tell me why you went to Bellamy before me.”
Silence.
Then Vanessa whispered through the door.
“Because they told me if I didn’t help them, they’d tell you what happened to your mother.”
Elena’s hand closed around the lock.
“What happened to her?”
Vanessa began crying.
“Elena, there’s something you need to see.”
A second voice came from the hallway.
A woman’s voice.
Older.
Calm.
“No, Vanessa. There’s something she needs to remember.”
Elena looked at Dominic.
He moved beside her.
The woman outside spoke again.
“Elena, open the door.”
Then she said the childhood nickname only Elena’s mother had ever used.
“Leni.”
May you like
Elena reached for the handle.
Someone on the other side was already turning it...
