Chương 2
Chloe knew something was wrong.
If Chloe came upstairs and saw the grease herself, Eleanor could no longer dismiss Victoria as a frightened pregnant woman.
Victoria opened Chloe’s contact.
She typed, Come upstairs, but don’t use the main staircase.
Her thumb stopped.
The estate had a service staircase behind the kitchen.
Chloe knew it existed.
Victoria added, Use the back stairs.
Before she could send it, a message appeared from Julian.
Where are you?
Victoria stared at the words.
She had not told him she was awake.
She deleted her unsent message to Chloe.
Where are YOU?
The typing indicator appeared and vanished.
Then she heard a man’s voice downstairs.
“Mom.”
Julian.
He had not been in bed because he had been downstairs.
Eleanor answered too softly for Victoria to understand.
“What did you do?” Julian asked.
Victoria started recording again.
Eleanor said, “What you couldn’t.”
Victoria’s stomach contracted.
Not labor, she told herself.
Fear.
Only fear.
Julian whispered something furious.
Eleanor replied louder.
“You said we were out of time.”
“I said I’d handle it.”
“You’ve been handling it for four years.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“She files that amendment tomorrow, and then what?”
Victoria leaned closer to the doorway.
The amendment again.
Julian said, “This was not the plan.”
“Oh, please.”
“I mean it.”
“You mean it now because you’re scared.”
“I’m scared because you’re insane.”
“And yet you’re still standing here instead of calling the police.”
Silence answered her.
Victoria lowered the phone.
Whatever Julian had intended, Eleanor had just exposed the part that mattered.
He knew there was a plan.
Maybe not this plan.
Maybe not the grease.
But something.
Victoria backed into the bedroom and opened Mara’s contact.
She sent the video without commentary.
Then she typed, Call police and send them here.
She hesitated before adding, Do not call me.
The message showed delivered.
Downstairs, Chloe’s door opened again.
“Can you two shut up?”
Eleanor snapped, “Stay where you are.”
“Why is everybody acting psychotic?”
“Chloe, listen to Mom,” Julian said.
That made Chloe suspicious.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“You only use that voice when something happened.”
Victoria heard Chloe walking toward the foyer.
Eleanor said, “Stop.”
Chloe kept coming.
“Why?”
“Just stop.”
Victoria moved to the railing.
Chloe appeared below wearing an oversized college sweatshirt and carrying her phone.
Her hair was gathered messily over one shoulder.
She looked up and saw Victoria.
“Do you know what’s going on?”
Victoria raised one hand.
“Don’t use the stairs.”
Chloe frowned.
“What?”
“Stay where you are.”
Eleanor stepped into the foyer.
“Victoria, go back to bed.”
Chloe looked between them.
“Okay, now I definitely want to know.”
“Chloe,” Victoria said, “the stairs are slippery.”
That was all she managed.
Chloe glanced down at the first marble step and, with the stubborn reflex of someone who had spent her life treating warnings as challenges, touched it with the toe of her slipper.
Her foot slid sideways.
She caught the banister.
“Jesus.”
Eleanor lunged toward her.
Chloe jerked away.
“What the hell did you put on there?”
“Get down.”
“I am down.”
“Move away from the staircase.”
Chloe lifted her phone flashlight and aimed it across the marble.
The grease reflected in long wet streaks.
Her expression changed.
“Mom.”
Eleanor reached for the phone.
Chloe backed away.
“Don’t.”
“Give me that.”
“Why?”
“Chloe.”
“Why is there grease on the stairs?”
Julian came into view near the kitchen entrance.
Chloe looked at him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Chloe’s face tightened.
Victoria had seen that expression only once before, when Chloe learned her father had secretly sold the lake cabin she believed would someday be hers.
It was not fear.
It was the stunned anger of someone discovering that family loyalty had excluded her.
Then a noise came from outside.
Not sirens.
A vehicle door.
Julian looked toward the front windows.
Eleanor looked at Victoria.
“You called someone.”
Victoria said nothing.
Eleanor started toward the staircase.
Julian caught her arm.
“Mom, don’t.”
“Let go.”
“You can’t go up there.”
“She has the video.”
Victoria’s skin went cold.
She had never told Eleanor she was recording.
Julian’s eyes rose toward her phone.
He had.
Eleanor tore free of him and stepped onto the first stair.
Her shoe slid.
She grabbed the rail and steadied herself.
Chloe shouted, “Mom, stop!”
But Eleanor climbed another step, gripping the banister with both hands.
“You think you’ve won?” she called up at Victoria.
Victoria backed away from the railing.
“Stay down there.”
“You have no idea what you’ve married into.”
Julian moved toward his mother.
“Enough.”
Eleanor climbed again.
Her right shoe skated backward.
This time she recovered only by dropping to one knee.
Chloe reached for her from below.
“Mom, come down.”
Eleanor slapped her hand away.
“Don’t touch me.”
The next movement happened without warning.
Julian stepped onto the lowest stair to reach her.
His bare foot landed on the greased edge.
He pitched forward.
His shoulder struck Eleanor’s legs.
Eleanor screamed as her hands lost the railing.
She fell backward.
Chloe tried to catch her.
All three bodies collided.
Chloe was knocked sideways onto the foyer rug, but Eleanor struck the marble hard and slid several feet before stopping against the base of a console table.
Julian landed on his hip and elbow, swearing through clenched teeth.
For several seconds, the only sound was Chloe crying, “Mom, Mom, look at me.”
Victoria gripped the railing but did not descend.
Eleanor opened her eyes.
Blood darkened the silver hair above her temple.
Chloe reached for her phone.
Eleanor caught her wrist with surprising strength.
“No hospital.”
“Are you crazy?”
“No hospital.”
“You hit your head.”
“No police either.”
Julian pushed himself upright.
“They’re already coming.”
Eleanor stared at him.
“You idiot.”
Then Chloe said, “Why would police be coming?”
Nobody answered.
Her gaze moved from Julian to Eleanor and finally up to Victoria.
“What is happening?”
May you like
Eleanor began to laugh.
It was weak and breathless and somehow worse than screaming.
