Chapter 2 - The Face in the Locket
The ballroom erupted into sheer chaos at the boy's whispered words.
Eleanor’s mind spun so fast she thought she might collapse right back into the hated wheelchair.
He cut the brakes.
The words echoed in her skull, drowning out the sound of the panicked string quartet and the shouting guests.
Richard lunged forward again, his eyes dark with a sudden, violent panic.
“Eleanor, sit down before you hurt yourself, you are having a severe delusional episode,” he commanded.
Two massive security guards in black suits stepped out of the shadows, moving quickly toward them.
Eleanor knew she had only seconds before they tore the boy away from her forever.
“I am perfectly fine, Richard,” she said loud enough for the society reporters near the stage to hear.
She instinctively pulled the boy behind her flowing pale blue gown, shielding him from her husband.
“I want this child brought to my private suite upstairs immediately,” she declared with absolute authority.
Richard’s fake smile returned for the crowd, but his eyes were pure ice.
“Darling, the police and Child Protective Services need to handle this stray,” he said through gritted teeth.
“I said, he goes with me, or I will tell the press exactly what a miracle just happened here,” she countered.
Richard hesitated, trapped by the flashing cameras of the paparazzi eager for a high-society scandal.
He gave a sharp nod to the guards, silently telling them to back off for now.
Eleanor managed to walk, her legs shaking with every step, as she led the boy to the VIP elevator.
Once they were safely inside her penthouse suite, she locked the heavy oak doors and sank onto a velvet sofa.
“What is your name?” she asked, finally catching her breath.
“Leo,” the boy said, wiping a smudge of dirt from his cheek.
“Leo, you have to tell me the truth about your mother,” Eleanor pleaded, her heart pounding against her ribs.
Leo reached under his faded, dirty shirt and pulled out a heavy gold locket on a silver chain.
He pressed the tiny clasp, and the locket sprang open.
Eleanor covered her mouth to muffle a sob as she looked at the picture inside.
It was a photograph of her and Sarah, smiling brightly at a summer house in the Hamptons.
“She told me to show you this if you didn't believe me,” Leo said softly.
Eleanor took the locket with trembling fingers, feeling the familiar weight of the jewelry she had given Sarah years ago.
But as she flipped the picture over, her blood ran completely cold.
There was a date written on the back of the photograph in dark blue ink.
The date was from exactly three weeks ago.
May you like
Sarah had been dead for five years.
And the handwriting on the back of the photo belonged entirely to Richard.
