Chapter 2 - The Voice of a Dead Woman
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Celeste held the phone away from her ear as though it had burned her.
Mara stared at the screen.
EVELYN.
The name remained there.
The call timer kept moving.
00:04.
00:05.
00:06.
Then the voice came again.
“Celeste, if Mara is with you, don’t let them take the veil.”
Mara crossed the room.
“Give me the phone.”
Celeste backed away.
Roman reached her first.
He took the phone.
“Who is this?”
Silence.
Roman’s expression sharpened.
Then the voice answered.
“You sound like Sofia.”
Roman’s face changed.
“Mara’s grandmother is dead.”
“I know.”
Mara’s throat tightened.
Roman put the call on speaker.
“Then identify yourself.”
A breath.
Then:
“My name is Ruth Bell.”
Mara frowned.
She had never heard it.
Roman had.
He closed his eyes for half a second.
Vivian noticed.
“What?”
Roman ignored her.
“Ruth Bell died in 1999.”
The woman on the phone laughed bitterly.
“That was the idea.”
Mara stared at Roman.
He looked at the black document case.
The photographs.
The stitched initials.
Then at Celeste.
“You knew.”
Celeste shook her head.
“No.”
“You knew Ruth was alive.”
“No.”
Ruth spoke through the speaker.
“Celeste knew enough.”
Celeste shouted, “Shut up!”
That ended any doubt.
Mara stepped closer.
“What did you do to my grandmother?”
Celeste looked at her.
For the first time that morning, Mara saw something other than contempt.
Fear.
“I never touched Evelyn.”
“Then why are you afraid of her?”
“I’m not.”
Ruth answered for her.
“Because Evelyn kept the only thing Celeste could never destroy.”
Mara looked down.
The veil.
Roman carefully lifted the torn pieces onto the dressing table.
“Explain.”
Ruth inhaled.
“In 1998, Sofia DeLuca, Evelyn Voss, and I worked together at the Bell Street Foundation.”
Roman’s expression hardened.
“My mother never worked for a foundation.”
“She did.”
“My father said—”
“Your father lied.”
That stopped him.
Mara watched Roman carefully.
People like Roman DeLuca were not accustomed to discovering that the ground beneath them could move.
Ruth continued.
“The foundation looked legitimate. Scholarships. Housing. Medical grants. But money passed through it that never reached any of those places.”
Roman said nothing.
“Your mother found the records. Evelyn helped her copy them. I was supposed to deliver them to a federal investigator.”
Mara’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table.
“What does that have to do with the veil?”
“The records were too dangerous to keep on paper.”
Roman looked at the stitching.
Ruth said, “Sofia created a code.”
Mara stared at the embroidered flowers.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“The stitching?”
“Every cluster represents numbers. Every broken stem represents a separator. The initials identify the key.”
Roman looked again at S. D. V.
“Sofia DeLuca. Evelyn Voss.”
“And Ruth Bell,” Ruth said.
Mara’s heart raced.
“The veil is a ledger?”
“Part of one.”
Celeste suddenly headed for the door.
Roman’s man blocked her.
“Move.”
He didn’t.
Celeste turned.
“This has nothing to do with me.”
Ruth’s voice sharpened.
“Ask her maiden name.”
Mara looked at Celeste.
“What?”
Celeste’s lips pressed together.
Roman already knew.
“Celeste Bell.”
Mara looked between them.
Ruth said quietly, “She’s my sister.”
Vivian swore under her breath.
Mara felt as though the room were shrinking.
Celeste stared at the phone.
“You should have stayed dead.”
Mara flinched.
Roman did not.
“Why?”
Celeste laughed once.
“You think this makes me the villain?”
“You cut a dead woman’s granddaughter’s wedding veil with scissors.”
Celeste pointed at Mara.
“Because that thing should have been destroyed decades ago.”
Mara stepped forward.
“You knew exactly what it was.”
“Yes.”
The admission landed hard.
Mara thought of every small insult Celeste had made.
Every time she had asked about the veil.
Every time she had suggested Mara buy a new one.
This had not been cruelty for cruelty’s sake.
Celeste had been trying to erase evidence.
Roman’s voice lowered.
“Who were you protecting?”
Celeste stared at him.
“No one you can touch.”
Roman almost smiled.
“That sounds like a challenge.”
“It’s a warning.”
Ruth interrupted.
“Roman, listen to me. Sofia never finished the ledger.”
“Why?”
“She was killed first.”
Mara looked at Roman.
His face became unreadable.
He had grown up believing his mother died in a car accident.
Everyone knew that story.
Rain.
A bridge.
A truck.
Roman’s father had raised him afterward.
Built the DeLuca empire.
Turned Roman into the man standing here now.
Roman spoke carefully.
“You’re saying my mother was murdered.”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
Ruth hesitated.
Celeste smiled.
That smile terrified Mara.
“Say it,” Roman ordered.
Ruth’s voice trembled.
“I don’t know who pulled the trigger.”
Roman’s jaw hardened.
“But I know who ordered the cleanup.”
Celeste suddenly grabbed the scissors.
Mara reacted before thinking.
She swept the veil off the table.
Celeste lunged.
Roman caught her wrist.
The scissors clattered onto the marble.
Vivian screamed.
Roman twisted Celeste’s arm just enough to make her release.
“Do that again,” he said quietly, “and you will regret it.”
Celeste laughed through clenched teeth.
“You still don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
“The veil doesn’t expose one man.”
Roman released her.
Celeste rubbed her wrist.
“It exposes families.”
Mara felt cold.
“Whose families?”
Celeste looked at her.
“Yours included.”
Mara stared.
“That’s impossible.”
“Ask your father.”
Mara’s expression changed.
“My father died when I was twelve.”
“Yes.”
“Then what am I supposed to ask him?”
Celeste looked amused again.
“Not that father.”
Silence.
Mara felt something drop inside her chest.
Roman said, “Enough.”
But Mara raised her hand.
“No.”
She looked at Celeste.
“What do you mean?”
Celeste glanced at the veil.
Then at the phone.
Then back at Mara.
“Evelyn protected you very carefully.”
Ruth shouted through the speaker.
“Celeste, stop.”
“Why?”
“Because you don’t know the whole truth.”
“I know enough.”
Mara moved closer.
“Tell me.”
Celeste leaned toward her.
“Your grandmother didn’t leave you that veil because you were getting married.”
“I know.”
“She left it because she knew Roman DeLuca would attend your wedding.”
Mara looked at Roman.
He frowned.
Celeste continued.
“She wanted him to see it.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed.
“How would Evelyn know I’d be here?”
Celeste smiled.
“Because your invitation was never an accident.”
Mara remembered Andrew insisting that Roman be invited.
Roman had initially declined.
Then changed his mind two days ago.
Why?
Mara turned to him.
“Why did you come?”
Roman hesitated.
“That’s not important.”
“Right now it is.”
He looked toward the door.
“My father asked me to.”
Everything stopped.
Ruth whispered through the phone.
“Oh, God.”
Roman’s face hardened.
“What?”
“Get out of that house.”
Mara’s pulse jumped.
“Why?”
“Because if your father knows Roman saw the veil, he knows Evelyn’s plan worked.”
Roman’s voice became sharp.
“How would he know?”
Ruth did not answer.
Instead, a sound came through the phone.
A door.
Then footsteps.
Ruth gasped.
“Someone’s here.”
Roman grabbed his own phone.
“Where are you?”
“Don’t.”
“Give me your location.”
“I can’t.”
Mara leaned toward the speaker.
“Ruth?”
Her breathing grew faster.
Then she whispered:
“Your grandmother told me one thing before she died.”
“What?”
“If Mara ever wore the veil, I was supposed to tell her to check the pearls.”
Mara touched her earrings.
“My earrings?”
“Yes.”
“The ones Evelyn left you.”
Roman stared at them.
Mara slowly removed the left pearl.
It looked ordinary.
Roman took it.
Examined the backing.
Then twisted it.
The pearl separated.
Inside was a tiny rolled strip of paper.
Mara gasped.
Roman unfolded it.
One address.
One time.
And two words.
ASK ANDREW.
Mara stared at her fiancé’s name.
“No.”
Roman looked at her.
“Mara—”
“No.”
Andrew was downstairs.
Waiting to marry her.
He had chosen the flowers.
He had held her after Evelyn died.
He had sat beside her through funeral arrangements.
He had kissed the pearl earrings that morning and said Evelyn would be proud.
The phone speaker crackled.
Ruth whispered, “Mara, I’m sorry.”
A loud bang came from Ruth’s end.
Then the call disconnected.
Roman immediately dialed his men.
Mara barely heard him.
She stared at the paper.
ASK ANDREW.
Celeste watched her.
Almost pitying.
Almost.
Then the bridal suite door opened.
Andrew Hale stood there in his tuxedo.
His eyes went first to Mara.
Then to Roman.
Then to the torn veil.
His face lost all expression.
Mara held up the paper.
“Andrew?”
He did not answer.
Behind him stood an older man.
Silver-haired.
Elegant.
May you like
Roman’s father.
Vittorio DeLuca looked at the ruined veil and smiled.
