Chapter 1 - The Lockdown
The heavy oak doors of the dining room clicked shut.
My security chief, Marco, stood firmly in front of the exit.
Thirty-two of New York’s most powerful people stared at me in stunned silence.
I did not care about their outrage or their canceled evening plans.
All I cared about was the platinum band resting on my fiancée’s trembling finger.
“Damian, you are making a scene,” Vivienne whispered, her voice tight with panic.
I kept my eyes locked entirely on her pale face.
“Take the ring off, Vivienne.”
She hesitated, glancing nervously at the wealthy guests who were now whispering among themselves.
“It is just an antique,” she pleaded softly.
“Take it off, or I will have Marco cut it off your hand,” I replied without raising my voice.
Vivienne quickly slid the platinum band off and placed it on the linen tablecloth.
I picked it up and held it directly under the glare of the crystal chandelier.
The hand-carved star on the inside of the band was unmistakably Sofia’s.
Sofia had been a quiet, loyal housekeeper who practically raised little Rosie in this very mansion.
She supposedly died of a stroke in her sleep nineteen days ago.
I turned to Marco, who was watching the room with predatory stillness.
“Nobody leaves this estate, and block all outgoing cell service,” I ordered.
The room erupted into angry protests, but Marco simply locked the deadbolt.
I grabbed Vivienne by the elbow and pulled her into the adjoining private library.
I threw the ring onto the mahogany desk.
“Where did you really get that?” I demanded.
Vivienne crossed her arms, desperately trying to maintain her elegant composure.
“I told you, I bought it from an estate dealer in the city.”
I leaned closer, invading her personal space until she backed against the bookshelves.
“Rosie recognized it instantly, Vivienne.”
“She is just a confused toddler grieving her mother,” Vivienne argued defensively.
I pulled out my phone and accessed the estate’s internal security system.
“Let us see what the cameras say about your recent shopping trips.”
Vivienne’s perfectly manicured hands suddenly began to shake.
I opened the archived footage from nineteen days ago, the exact night Sofia died.
The screen showed the dark hallway leading to the servant quarters at two in the morning.
A figure slipped silently out of Sofia’s bedroom door while wearing dark clothes.
May you like
The woman on the screen turned toward the camera, her face illuminated by the moonlight.
It was Vivienne, and she was tightly clutching the platinum ring in her bloody hand.
