Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Silver Dress
Adrian pulled me behind him before the first man reached the conservatory.
Three security officers rushed through the western arch.
All of them stopped when they saw their unconscious colleague.
“Lock the estate,” Adrian ordered.
The closest officer touched his earpiece.
“Sir—”
“Now.”
Steel shutters descended across the outer glass doors.
The estate’s security system sealed each wing one by one.
I stared at the brass key in my palm.
Adrian noticed.
“What is that?”
I closed my fingers.
Vivian had given it to me.
Not him.
I did not know why.
“She put something in my hand.”
He extended his palm.
I hesitated.
His eyes narrowed.
Then he lowered his hand.
“Keep it.”
That surprised me.
“You don’t want to know?”
“I want to know why she trusted you with it.”
One of the guards approached.
“Mr. Vale, Ms. Whitcomb’s vehicle is still here.”
“Phones?”
“Her phone is in the bridal suite.”
“So she hasn’t left the property.”
“Doesn’t appear so.”
“And Vivian?”
“No sign yet.”
Adrian looked toward the western hall.
“She can’t move fast.”
Unless someone had moved her.
The thought made my stomach twist.
I asked, “Who would take her?”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
He ordered two men upstairs and another toward the service wing.
Then he looked at my cheek.
“You need a doctor.”
“I need to know what Vivian meant.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’m still standing.”
For a moment, something almost like approval passed through his face.
“Fine.”
He turned.
“Come with me.”
We crossed the silent ballroom.
The party had vanished so quickly that half-full champagne glasses still covered the tables.
A violin lay abandoned on a chair.
The engagement cake stood untouched beneath a chandelier.
Everything looked frozen in the second before a disaster.
Adrian led me into a small library.
He closed the door.
“Show me the key.”
I placed it on the desk.
He read the tag.
His expression hardened.
“You know what it opens?” I asked.
“My father’s office.”
“The one nobody enters?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he died in it.”
That stopped me.
Adrian walked to a cabinet and poured water into a glass.
“He had a heart attack at forty-six.”
“Vivian said someone wanted you to think he was the worst man in the house.”
“I heard her.”
“Did you believe her?”
He handed me the water.
“I believe people speak for reasons.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only answer I have.”
I pressed the cold glass against my cheek.
“My mother never told me she worked here.”
“How old were you when she died?”
“Sixteen.”
He went still.
“How?”
“Car accident.”
His eyes remained on mine.
“When?”
“November 14, twelve years ago.”
The color drained slightly from his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That wasn’t nothing.”
He walked toward the fireplace.
“My father’s former attorney died November 14.”
My hand lowered.
“Same year?”
He nodded.
A chill moved over me.
“Same accident?”
“No. According to the report, his car went into the river thirty miles north.”
“Two deaths on the same day.”
“Yes.”
I suddenly remembered my mother’s funeral.
A cheap church.
Three women from the hotel.
A closed casket because the damage from the crash had been too severe.
And one man I did not recognize standing across the street in a black coat.
At sixteen, I had thought he was someone from the insurance company.
Now I wondered.
A knock struck the door.
Adrian’s head of security entered.
“Sir. We found Ms. Whitcomb.”
“Where?”
“The surveillance room.”
Adrian’s expression darkened.
“Why?”
“She was deleting footage.”
My stomach tightened.
“Of tonight?”
“No.”
The guard looked at me.
“Footage from eleven months ago.”
The month I had started working here.
Adrian said, “Bring her to the study.”
Celeste appeared ten minutes later between two security officers.
She had changed.
Her engagement gown was gone.
She wore black trousers, a cashmere coat, and no jewelry except the massive diamond ring on her left hand.
“You’re detaining me,” she said.
Adrian remained behind his desk.
“You were destroying my security records.”
“They showed nothing.”
“Then why delete them?”
She looked at me.
“Because she was never supposed to be here.”
Silence.
I stepped forward.
“What does that mean?”
Celeste laughed softly.
“You really don’t know?”
“Know what?”
She looked at Adrian.
“This is embarrassing.”
Adrian’s voice sharpened.
“Answer her.”
Celeste folded her arms.
“Eleven months ago, the household manager gave me three candidates for the vacant service position.”
I remembered the interview.
Celeste had been the one who hired me.
She had barely looked at my résumé.
I had assumed she did not care.
“I chose Elena,” Celeste continued.
“Why?”
“Because of her name.”
My pulse quickened.
Adrian stared at her.
“You recognized Torres?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
She smiled.
“Her photograph.”
My stomach dropped.
“What about my photograph?”
Celeste’s eyes moved over my face.
“You look exactly like someone.”
“Who?”
Before she could answer, the library doors opened.
A guard entered carrying a framed photograph.
He placed it on Adrian’s desk.
“We found this behind a loose wall panel in Vivian Calder’s guest suite.”
The photograph was old.
Twenty years, maybe more.
Five people stood outside the Vale estate.
I recognized Vivian immediately.
Younger.
Stronger.
Beside her stood Adrian’s father.
And next to him was a woman with long dark hair.
My mother.
I could barely breathe.
She was smiling.
One hand rested protectively on the shoulder of a little boy.
Adrian.
But there was another child in the photograph.
A baby in my mother’s arms.
On the back, someone had written a date.
April 3.
And beneath it:
For Thomas and Maria.
Our children deserve the truth.
A.V.
Adrian stared at the handwriting.
“That’s my father’s.”
Celeste suddenly lunged across the desk.
Adrian caught her wrist.
She fought for the photograph.
“Give me that!”
The diamond ring on her finger struck the desk.
Something inside it snapped.
The large stone shifted sideways.
A tiny metal object dropped from beneath the setting.
It bounced once.
Twice.
Then landed beside my hand.
A microfilm capsule.
Celeste froze.
Adrian looked at her.
“What is that?”
She said nothing.
His head of security picked it up.
“We’ll need a reader.”
Adrian’s eyes stayed on Celeste.
“You hid evidence inside your engagement ring?”
“It’s not mine.”
“Whose is it?”
Her lips parted.
A phone rang.
Not Adrian’s.
Not mine.
Celeste’s handbag sat on a side table.
The phone inside it had supposedly been upstairs.
Everyone looked toward the sound.
Adrian’s guard opened the bag.
There was a second phone inside.
One message glowed across the locked screen.
CELeste: YOU FAILED. BRING THE GIRL TO THE WEST OFFICE BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
The sender had no name.
Only one initial.
May you like
V.
Then the grandfather clock began striking eleven.
