Chapter 7
Julian froze.
The room went silent in a way that felt dangerous.
Ivy’s fingers tightened around mine.
Her mother had died three years ago.
Everyone in New York knew the story.
Vivienne Vale.
Beautiful.
Charitable.
Found dead after a fall from the winter balcony.
A tragedy.
An accident.
That was what the papers called it.
Celeste looked at Julian with cruel satisfaction.
“You really thought grief made you untouchable?”
Beatrice stood.
“What are you saying?”
Celeste smiled.
“I am saying your perfect family has more secrets than mine.”
Julian’s voice was low.
“Speak carefully.”
“Why? You’re already calling police.”
Grant grabbed his daughter’s arm.
“Celeste, stop.”
She ripped away.
“No. I am done being the only villain in rooms full of liars.”
Then she pointed at Beatrice.
“Ask her why Vivienne was meeting a lawyer the week she died.”
Beatrice went white.
Julian turned.
“Mother?”
Beatrice whispered, “I don’t know.”
Celeste laughed.
“You do. You just didn’t ask.”
Ivy started crying.
I knelt in front of her.
“You don’t have to listen.”
She looked at Julian.
“Daddy?”
Julian crossed to her immediately.
“Ivy, go with Mara.”
Celeste snapped, “How sweet. Trusting the maid with your daughter already?”
Julian turned on her.
“Do not speak about Mara again.”
My heart slammed.
Not because he defended me.
Because he used my name like it mattered.
Roman unlocked the door enough to let Ivy and me step into the hallway.
But Ivy refused to leave.
“No,” she said. “Mommy’s name is being said.”
Julian’s face broke.
He crouched.
“You are a child.”
“I am her child.”
No one had an answer for that.
Police sirens sounded outside.
Celeste’s eyes flashed panic.
Grant lowered his head.
Julian stood again.
“Tell me what you know about my wife.”
Celeste leaned closer.
“Vivienne didn’t fall.”
May you like
Beatrice made a sound like she had been stabbed.
Celeste whispered, “And the proof is in Mara’s locket.”
