Part 2
“The light is off,” he said.
“It may be malfunctioning.”
“It was working at dinner.”
“Electronics fail.”
He reached behind it and pressed the power button. Nothing happened. Then he lifted the unit. The battery compartment was empty.
Celeste’s expression did not change.
Adrian set it down.
The brass doors opened again. Daniel Pike entered first, broad-shouldered and gray at the temples, followed by Mrs. Kim, the housekeeper, wearing a navy robe over her nightclothes. Mrs. Kim’s gaze went directly to the twins, then to Mara’s face.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she said.
Celeste stiffened at the tenderness in her voice.
“Cut the ribbon,” Adrian told Daniel.
Daniel approached the bench, but Mara drew back before she could stop herself.
He halted.
“It’s all right,” he said.
“I know.” Her breath shook. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
Celeste turned toward the doors. “This is absurd. She needs a doctor, and the children need to be removed from her.”
Adrian blocked her path with one arm.
“You’re staying.”
“In a room with a woman who has been making increasingly irrational accusations about me?”
“Mrs. Kim,” Adrian said, still watching Celeste, “take the champagne flute and put it somewhere secure. Don’t wash it.”
His sister stared at him.
“For God’s sake, Adrian.”
Mrs. Kim crossed the room, picked up the glass by the base, and carried it out without a word.
Daniel knelt in front of Mara. From a small utility tool, he unfolded a pair of scissors. The metal touched the ribbon.
“Easy,” Mara whispered, though she was speaking to the babies.
The ivory silk parted.
Pain rushed back into her hands so sharply that she nearly dropped Elise. Adrian moved before Daniel did, one hand sliding beneath the baby’s blanket, the other bracing Mara’s forearm. His motion was controlled, almost slow.
“I have her,” he said.
Mara resisted for half a second.
Adrian waited.
That pause mattered. He did not pull. He did not tell her she was being unreasonable. He simply held his hands in place until she was ready.
Mara loosened her arm.
He lifted Elise against his chest. The baby blinked up at him, unimpressed by the disturbance, and caught one small fist in the lapel of his overcoat.
Adrian looked down at his daughter as if he had been handed something both precious and unfamiliar.
He had held the twins before. Mara had seen him do it. But usually he stood too straight and watched the clock, waiting for a feeding to end or for someone more practiced to take over. Tonight, Elise settled against him with nowhere else to go.
Daniel removed the ribbon from Mara’s wrists without disturbing Noah. Red bands circled her skin.
“Photograph it,” Adrian said.
Celeste shut her eyes.
Only for a moment.
Daniel placed the cut ribbon on the pale rug and used his phone to take several pictures. Then he photographed Mara’s wrists.
“No,” Celeste said. “That is enough.”
No one answered.
She turned to her brother. “You are creating evidence before you know whether a crime occurred.”
Adrian’s face remained still.
“That sentence tells me you’ve already thought about the possibility.”
Celeste’s cheeks lost some of their color.
Mara looked down at Noah. She was suddenly exhausted beyond fear. Now that the door was open, the room felt too large. The glass ceiling seemed farther away. Every lamp was too bright.
“I want to leave,” she said.
Adrian turned.
“Of course.”
“With them.”
Celeste made a sound of disbelief.
Mara’s arms tightened around Noah. “I mean—I don’t want them left alone with her.”
“They won’t be,” Adrian said.
“You cannot promise that,” Celeste replied. “You barely know where they sleep.”
The words landed harder than anything she had said to Mara.
Adrian’s expression did not change, but Elise’s small fist remained closed around his coat.
Celeste saw it. Her voice softened.
“I’m sorry. That was cruel.”
“You’ve had a difficult evening,” Adrian said. “Maybe cruelty is a symptom.”
She flinched.
Daniel stepped between them before the silence became something else.
“Mr. Vale, there are procedures we should follow. We need medical attention for Ms. Velez. We should preserve the room. We should contact local law enforcement.”
Celeste’s head snapped toward him. “Absolutely not.”
Daniel did not look at her.
Adrian’s gaze stayed on his sister. “Call them.”
“Adrian.”
“Call them, Daniel.”
Celeste crossed the room quickly enough that the champagne dress whispered against her legs. For the first time since entering, she no longer moved as though the house belonged to her.
“You don’t understand what this will do,” she said. “Not to me. To you. To the twins. To the company. Do you think the police will quietly interview the staff and disappear? You are a widower with six-month-old children, a rotating schedule of employees, and a dead wife whose family already believes you neglected her. This becomes public, and every decision you have made since Leah died becomes part of it.”
Adrian held Elise closer.
“Is that why you thought I wouldn’t call?”
Celeste looked at Mara.
There was no panic in her face now. The break had closed. Her features had returned to their familiar arrangement: thoughtful eyes, composed mouth, the faint crease between her brows that made strangers believe she carried other people’s burdens.
“I thought you would ask questions first.”
“You tied her hands.”
“I did not.”
The lie entered the room without force.
Mara had expected denial. She had not expected how ordinary it would sound.
Adrian looked down at the ribbon on the floor.
“Then you should want the police here.”
May you like
Celeste’s eyes moved toward the doors. Daniel shifted slightly, not threatening her, simply making it clear that the path was no longer open.
Mara finally understood what Celeste had meant when she said Adrian would not believe her. It had not been only about affection. It had been about structure. Celeste knew where the keys were kept, which staff members reported to whom, what the lawyers advised, which version of every family story had been repeated until no one remembered another.
