Chapter 2 - The Woman Behind the Smile
Vivien slept beside me that night.
I didn't.
At 2:13 in the morning, she rolled toward me and placed one hand against my chest.
Three months earlier, that touch would have made me pull her closer.
Now all I could hear was her voice.
Children wander.
I stared at the ceiling until her breathing became slow and even.
Then I moved.
I slipped from the bed, put on a robe, and walked barefoot into the hall.
Rocco was waiting in my study.
He had been with my family for twenty-two years. He'd served my father before me, and I'd learned long ago that Rocco's expression revealed nothing unless the news was terrible.
Tonight, his expression revealed nothing.
That worried me more.
"What?"
He placed a folder on my desk.
"Vivien has been busy."
I opened it.
The first pages contained ordinary financial records. Boutique purchases. Charity dinners. Jewelry. Hotels.
Then I reached the transfers.
Every month for the past six months, Vivien had sent money to a consulting company called Hawthorne Advisory.
"What do they consult?"
"Nothing."
I looked up.
Rocco leaned against the desk.
"It's a shell."
"Whose?"
"We're working on that."
I flipped another page.
There were photographs of three men entering my estate through the service entrance.
I recognized two as contractors Vivien had personally recommended after insisting the mansion's security system needed modernization.
The third man was unfamiliar.
"Name?"
"Caleb Mercer."
"What does he do?"
"Officially? Private security."
"And unofficially?"
Rocco paused.
"He makes problems disappear."
The room went very quiet.
I looked at the photograph again.
"How often has he been here?"
"Six times."
"Why wasn't I told?"
"Every visit was logged under the security upgrade."
That was clever.
Nobody questioned security contractors in my house because Vivien had persuaded me that increased protection was necessary after a threat against my mother.
A threat I was suddenly beginning to reconsider.
"Find out who hired Mercer."
Rocco nodded.
"And Elena?"
"Clean."
I looked up sharply.
"I didn't ask you to investigate her."
"You told me everyone."
Fair enough.
"What did you find?"
"Elena Marquez. Twenty-nine. Widowed three years ago. Husband was Daniel Marquez, accountant. One daughter, Mia. No criminal record. No significant debt. She's worked in domestic service since Daniel died."
"How did he die?"
"Car accident."
Something about Rocco's tone caught me.
"Say the rest."
"The police report called it an accident."
"But?"
"Daniel was employed by Hawthorne Advisory."
I stopped breathing for a moment.
The same shell company receiving money from Vivien.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
Suddenly Elena wasn't merely a maid being bullied by my fiancée.
She was connected to whatever Vivien had hidden.
"Does Elena know?"
"I don't know."
"Find out without frightening her."
Rocco left.
I remained behind my desk until sunrise.
At seven, I went downstairs.
Elena was setting breakfast in the morning room.
The moment she saw me, she lowered her eyes.
"Good morning, Mr. Duca."
"Morning."
She looked exhausted.
There were shadows beneath her brown eyes.
Fear did that to people.
I'd caused enough of it in my lifetime to recognize the symptoms.
"Where's Mia?"
"Kitchen."
"Why?"
Elena hesitated.
"She's having pancakes with Mrs. Russo."
I walked toward the kitchen.
Mia sat at the enormous island with a pancake nearly as big as her plate.
She saw me.
Her entire face brightened.
"Uncle Lorenzo!"
Elena appeared behind me immediately.
"Mia, Mr. Duca is busy."
"It's fine."
The little girl held up a strawberry.
"For you."
I took it.
"Thank you."
Then she leaned toward me conspiratorially.
"I didn't tell."
My chest tightened.
Elena went pale.
I crouched.
"You did exactly right yesterday."
Mia smiled.
"But from now on, if anything scares you, you come to me. Understand?"
She nodded.
I stood.
Elena followed me into the corridor.
"Mr. Duca."
I turned.
"Please don't encourage her."
"To trust me?"
"To involve herself in adult matters."
Her voice was respectful, but there was steel underneath it.
For the first time, I understood something about Elena.
She wasn't weak.
She was terrified, but she wasn't weak.
"Then tell me what the adult matter is."
Her eyes snapped toward mine.
I waited.
She said nothing.
"Vivien threatened your daughter."
Color disappeared from her face.
"You heard?"
"Enough."
Elena looked toward the kitchen.
"You shouldn't have."
"That's an interesting response."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
She looked at me for several long seconds.
"Both."
I stepped closer.
"Your husband's name was Daniel."
Her expression changed instantly.
That was my answer.
"You investigated me."
"I investigate threats inside my home."
"Daniel has nothing to do with this."
"He worked for Hawthorne Advisory."
Elena grabbed the edge of a console table.
"You need to stop."
"Why?"
"Because that's exactly what Daniel didn't do."
Her voice cracked.
I stared at her.
"What did he find?"
She shook her head.
"Elena."
"My husband died because he asked questions about money that didn't belong where it was going."
My pulse slowed.
That dangerous calm always came before violence.
"Whose money?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to believe that I have a three-year-old daughter and no interest in making her an orphan."
Before I could answer, heels clicked across marble.
Vivien.
Elena stepped away from me instantly.
Vivien entered wearing cream trousers and a cashmere sweater.
Her smile appeared when she saw us.
"Good morning."
She kissed my cheek.
Then she looked at Elena.
The transformation was tiny.
A fraction of tension around the mouth.
A brief narrowing of the eyes.
If I hadn't heard her yesterday, I might have missed it.
"Elena," she said pleasantly, "could you bring coffee?"
"Of course."
Elena disappeared.
Vivien linked her arm through mine.
"What were you two discussing?"
I smiled.
"Flowers."
"For the wedding?"
"Apparently."
She relaxed.
Almost.
Then Mia came running from the kitchen.
"Uncle Lorenzo!"
Vivien froze.
Mia stopped when she saw her.
The happiness vanished from the child's face.
She backed up.
That tiny movement told me more than a hundred investigators could have.
Vivien noticed me watching.
Her smile tightened.
"She seems very attached to you."
"Does that bother you?"
"Of course not."
Mia reached for my hand.
I gave it to her.
Vivien stared at our joined fingers.
For one second, the mask slipped.
Fear.
Not jealousy.
Fear.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Rocco.
We identified Hawthorne's owner.
Another message arrived.
I read the name.
And for the first time since I'd begun investigating Vivien, I felt genuinely blindsided.
Hawthorne Advisory wasn't owned by Vivien.
It belonged to someone far closer to me.
May you like
Someone who had lived in this mansion long before Vivien ever entered it.
My mother.
