Chương 4
She was sixty-two, five feet tall, and had been scolding Moretti men since before Dominic inherited the estate.
She ignored him completely and went straight to Lily.
“My baby.”
Lily dropped the crackers and grabbed the rabbit.
“You lost me.”
“I did not lose you.”
“You did.”
Rosa pressed a hand to her chest.
“After everything I have done for you.”
“You were talking.”
“I speak sometimes.”
“With Chef Marco.”
“That man was panicking over buttercream.”
“You forgot me.”
Rosa looked at me with exhausted guilt.
“I turned around for maybe a minute.”
“I know.”
“No, Claire, I should have—”
“Not now.”
Her mouth closed.
Dominic took the tote.
“What is this?”
“Her pajamas, toothbrush, Claire’s phone charger, medications, two books, three pairs of underwear because apparently children cannot survive one night with fewer than three, and the blue blanket.”
Lily hugged the rabbit.
“Four underwear.”
Rosa frowned.
“You’re wearing one.”
“Oh.”
For half a second the room became ordinary.
Then Dominic reached into the bag and removed my phone.
“Unlock it.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“You don’t get to search my phone.”
“I don’t care about your phone.”
“Then give it back.”
“I care who contacted you today.”
“Nobody.”
“You checked?”
“I was working a birthday party.”
“Unlock it.”
“No.”
Rosa looked between us.
“If this becomes one of those stubborn competitions, I am too old to referee.”
Dominic held out the phone.
“Then check it yourself.”
I took it.
My hands were still trembling badly enough that Face ID failed twice.
I entered the passcode.
There were eleven unread texts, mostly staff logistics.
A school parent had sent a photograph of cupcakes.
My sister had asked whether Lily was still refusing carrots.
Then I saw a number I did not recognize.
The message had arrived at 4:07 p.m.
Need you upstairs before guests arrive.
Powder room issue.
I stopped breathing.
Dominic saw my face.
“What?”
I handed him the phone.
He read the message.
“Who normally texts you about housekeeping issues?”
“Staff.”
“From their own numbers?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know this one?”
“No.”
“Did you reply?”
“No.”
“But you went upstairs.”
“Because there was a problem.”
“Who told you there was a problem?”
I opened my mouth.
The memory came back in pieces.
A young server carrying champagne flutes.
Me complaining that I had not eaten lunch.
A message vibrating in my apron pocket.
Then Rosa calling from the hallway.
“Rosa.”
She frowned.
“What?”
“You told me the upstairs powder room needed towels.”
“I did?”
“At four ten.”
“I don’t remember that.”
“Yes, you came into the pantry and said Mrs. Bellini was complaining about towels.”
Rosa’s face went pale.
“I never went into the pantry at four ten.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“I talked to you.”
“You talked to someone.”
“I know your face, Rosa.”
Her expression became offended despite the situation.
“I would hope so.”
“Then why don’t you remember?”
“I was in the kitchen.”
She looked at Dominic.
“Marco had split the second batch of buttercream, and I was helping him calm down.”
Lily sat cross-legged on the carpet, quietly feeding imaginary crackers to her rabbit.
Dominic took my phone again.
“Gabriel needs to trace this number.”
“It could be spoofed.”
He looked at me.
I shrugged.
“I have teenagers working weekends for me.”
“They teach me things when they want to make me feel ancient.”
Rosa pointed toward the screen.
“But somebody still had to tell her about the bathroom.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“Or make her think someone told her.”
A knock sounded again.
Three.
Pause.
Two.
Gabriel entered.
He looked at Rosa first.
“Were you in the pantry at four ten?”
“No.”
Gabriel swore.
“What did you find?”
Dominic asked.
“The reflection video is worse than we thought.”
My stomach tightened.
“How?”
Gabriel looked at me.
“The man is wearing a catering jacket.”
“That doesn’t tell you who he is.”
“No.”
He pulled out the phone.
“But this does.”
Dominic stepped between us.
“I said she didn’t need to see it.”
“She does now.”
“Why?”
“Because Claire is in the video.”
I stared at him.
“No, I’m not.”
Gabriel turned the screen toward me.
The image was grainy and distorted by the freezer door, but I recognized the cold room immediately.
The cake sat on the center rack.
A man in white catering clothes stood beside it.
And behind him, visible for only a second in the steel reflection, was a woman wearing my black housekeeping uniform.
She had my height.
My build.
My brown hair tied at the same height as mine.
For one sickening moment, even I thought I was looking at myself.
Then the woman turned.
I saw the side of her face.
Rosa gasped.
Dominic did not move.
I reached for the phone.
“Pause it.”
Gabriel did.
I stared at the woman’s cheek.
There, just below her ear, was a pale diagonal scar.
I had seen that scar before.
Not in the house.
Not for years.
My hand dropped.
Dominic watched me.
“You know her.”
I could hear Lily humming to her rabbit behind us.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
My mouth had gone dry.
“She’s my sister.”
Dominic’s gaze stayed on me for a full second before shifting back to the frozen image.
“Your sister has access to my house?”
“No.”
Gabriel enlarged the reflection.
The woman’s face blurred into silver pixels.
“She did tonight.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then help me.”
“Her name is Rebecca Hale.”
The name sounded wrong inside the Moretti house.
Too ordinary.
Too familiar.
Rosa sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
“You said she lived in Connecticut.”
“She does.”
“Claire.”
“I haven’t seen her in almost four years.”
Dominic looked at the phone again.
“That is not the same as saying she couldn’t be here.”
“I know what I said.”
“When did you last speak?”
I looked down.
“That depends what you mean by speak.”
“What else would I mean?”
“She called me three weeks ago.”
May you like
Dominic’s expression sharpened.
“You just said you haven’t seen her.”
