Chapter 2 - The Lock and the Shadow
The room emptied with the tense, muted rustle of silk gowns and stiff tuxedoes. My guests were used to power, but they were also used to self-preservation. When my men quietly ushered them toward the east wing drawing room, locking the heavy mahogany doors behind them, no one protested. They knew better than to challenge me when my voice dropped to that level.
Only three people remained in the vast dining room: Vivienne, standing stiffly by her tipped chair; little Rosie, who had shrunk back into the shadows near the doorway; and myself.
Marco stepped into the room, his long coat damp from the Long Island rain. He gave me a sharp nod. “The perimeter is secure, Mr. Vance. No signals are leaving the estate. I’ve activated the local cell jammers as instructed.”
Vivienne let out a sharp, incredulous breath. “Cell jammers? Damian, have you completely lost your mind? You’re holding city councilors, your own board members, and my family hostage because a traumatized three-year-old made a ridiculous claim!”
I ignored her. I walked across the marble floor, my footsteps echoing against the vaulted ceiling, and knelt in front of Rosie. The little girl’s hands were shaking as she clutched her stuffed rabbit.
“Rosie,” I said softly, keeping my tone as gentle as possible. “You’re not in trouble. I promise. But I need you to answer one question for me. Who gave you permission to come upstairs tonight?”
Rosie sucked her lower lip, her eyes wide with fear. “The dark lady,” she whispered, pointing a tiny finger past me, straight toward Vivienne.
Vivienne scoffed, folding her arms tight against her sapphire gown. “She’s lying! Or confused! I haven’t stepped foot in the servants' quarters in months!”
“The dark lady didn’t come to my room,” Rosie continued, her voice trembling. “She was in Mommy’s room... the night Mommy went to sleep and didn’t wake up. She left the box open.”
A icy chill settled over my chest. I stood up slowly and turned to face Vivienne. The color had drained completely from her face, leaving her pristine makeup looking like a painted mask on a corpse.
“Marco,” I said calmly. “Take Rosie to the nanny in the West Wing. Ensure two guards are posted outside her room. No one goes in or out without my express permission.”
“Understood, boss.” Marco gently took Rosie’s hand. The child didn’t resist; she looked relieved to leave the suffocating tension of the dining hall.
Once the door clicked shut behind them, the silence between Vivienne and me became absolute. Outside, the rain beat a rhythmic, merciless drum against the glass.
“Take off the ring, Vivienne,” I said.
“Damian, please, listen to me—”
“Take it off.”
Her fingers trembled as she pulled the narrow platinum band off her finger. She tried to toss it onto the table, but I caught her wrist mid-air. Her skin was ice cold. I pried the ring from her grasp and held it up beneath the light of the crystal chandelier.
The uneven, hand-carved star was unmistakable.
“Sofia wore this every single day,” I said, looking into Vivienne’s panicked eyes. “She wore it when she poured my coffee, when she set the linen, when she worked in this very room. She told me it was carved by someone special. Now, tell me how an 'estate dealer' gave you a personalized ring that belonged to my housekeeper, who died nineteen days ago.”
“I... I lied about the estate dealer,” Vivienne stammered, her composure finally beginning to shatter at the edges. “I was embarrassed, Damian! I found it! I found it on the floor in the hallway weeks ago! I thought Sofia dropped it and forgot about it, or that it was just junk left behind. I liked the vintage look, so I kept it. I didn’t steal it from a dead woman!”
“You lied to me,” I said softly. “You told me you bought it.”
“Because I knew how you’d react! You’re obsessed with protocol! You would have scolded me for keeping a servant’s lost trinket!” She reached out to touch my arm, but I stepped back, out of her reach. “Damian, look at me. We are getting married in two months. Our families are merging assets. My father’s firm is handling your international expansion. Are you really going to destroy everything we’ve built over a dead maid’s ring?”
“Sofia wasn’t just a maid,” I snapped, my calm finally cracking to reveal the rage boiling beneath. “She was part of this home for seven years. And strokes don’t usually happen to perfectly healthy twenty-eight-year-old women.”
I turned on my heel and walked toward my private study.
“Where are you going?” Vivienne shouted, her voice laced with rising panic as she hurried after me, her sapphire heels clicking frantically on the floor. “Damian! You can’t leave me here! You can’t hold those people locked in the drawing room!”
I stopped at the entrance of my study and looked back at her.
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“I’m going to look at the security footage from nineteen nights ago,” I said. “The night Sofia died. Because if you were in her room, Vivienne, I’m going to find out why.”
I pushed the door open, stepped inside, and locked it behind me, leaving Vivienne standing alone in the grand hallway, screaming my name against the sound of the falling rain.
