Part 12
Poppy pressed her face against Gabriel’s shoulder.
The woman in gold looked down at the child.
“I met her mother once,” she said.
Gabriel stood.
Poppy clung to him.
“When?”
Amelie asked.
“Years ago.”
“What did she want?”
The woman looked toward the floral arch outside.
The wedding flowers moved softly in the night air.
“She came to the estate,” Amelie’s mother said. “She wanted to speak to your father.”
“My father was alive then?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Amelie’s expression sharpened.
“Mom.”
The woman’s fingers moved over the floral bracelet.
“She was frightened,” she said.
“Of what?”
“She never told me directly.”
Gabriel felt anger climb into his throat.
“You didn’t ask?”
Amelie’s mother looked at him.
“I offered her help.”
“What kind of help?”
“She refused it.”
“What kind?”
The woman’s mouth tightened.
“Financial help.”
Poppy began to cry quietly.
Gabriel held her closer.
Amelie looked at her mother with something like disbelief.
“She came here frightened, and you offered money?”
“I didn’t know what else she wanted.”
“You could have listened.”
“I did listen.”
“No,” Amelie said. “You heard her.”
The difference hung in the room.
Amelie’s mother looked at her daughter.
For the first time, some of the polish left her face.
“I was trying to protect you,” she said.
Amelie laughed once, bitterly.
“From what?”
“From scandal. From your father’s business partners. From the Harrow family. From anything that could become public and cruel.”
Gabriel felt the words strike him.
“The Harrow family,” he said.
Amelie’s mother looked at him.
“Your father was not a gentle man.”
The room went quiet.
Gabriel’s father had been dead for years. People rarely spoke badly about him in front of Gabriel. They called him formidable. Brilliant. Demanding. They said he understood power. They said he was old-fashioned.
No one said cruel.
No one said feared.
“You think my father did this?” Gabriel asked.
“I think your father knew how to make people afraid without ever speaking loudly.”
Poppy whispered, “Mommy said the man had a nice voice.”
Gabriel looked down at her.
Amelie’s mother closed her eyes.
“I don’t know what happened to Marin,” she said. “I don’t know who brought Poppy here. But I know your father spoke to Marin after she came to this estate.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because Marin told me.”
The courtyard lights blurred.
“What did she say?”
“She said a man had called her. She said he knew everything about her. Her job. Her mother. Her apartment. She said he told her that if she contacted you again, people would stop being kind.”
Gabriel felt his hands go cold.
“And what did you do?”
Amelie’s mother looked down.
“I told her to leave town.”
Amelie stared at her.
“You told her what?”
“I thought it was the safest thing.”
“For who?”
The question landed hard.
The woman looked at Poppy.
Then at Gabriel.
Then back at her daughter.
“For her,” she said.
Amelie’s eyes filled.
“You didn’t know her.”
“No.”
“You didn’t know what she needed.”
“No.”
“You just wanted the problem to go somewhere else.”
Her mother’s face broke, but only briefly.
“I was afraid.”
Amelie stepped back.
The small distance felt enormous.
Gabriel understood suddenly why Amelie had always hated the word protection. She had never explained it fully. Once, when he suggested hiring someone to help with a problem at her office, she had said, “I don’t like when people use care as a way of taking control.”
He had thought she was being stubborn.
Now he saw the history behind it.
Poppy lifted her head.
“Did you lock me in the room?” she asked.
Amelie’s mother went still.
“No.”
“Did you take Mommy’s coat?”
“No.”
“Did you tell the lady to bring me here?”
“No.”
The child watched her face.
Gabriel did too.
Amelie’s mother looked devastated.
But devastation was not proof.
“You had the access card,” Gabriel said.
“Yes.”
“Was it with you all night?”
The woman’s face changed.
Amelie noticed.
“Mom.”
“I left my bag in the bridal suite this afternoon.”
“Who could get to it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who?”
The woman looked toward the villa.
“The planner. The assistants. Anyone from the family.”
Gabriel’s mind moved through the day: floral deliveries, photographers, guests, staff, the dozens of people who had passed through rooms without being watched closely. A wedding was designed to make strangers appear welcome. It was an open door dressed as celebration.
Poppy began to tremble again.
Gabriel looked down.
“What is it?”
“The lady said you would all blame each other.”
No one spoke.
The child’s eyes were wet.
“She said that was what families did.”
May you like
The sentence seemed to strip the room bare.
Amelie sat beside Poppy on the sofa, careful not to touch her unless invited.
