Chapter 2
I moved Finnian and Adela away from the crowd first.
Adela kept apologizing.
That irritated me.
“Stop.”
She froze.
“Your son told the truth.”
Her eyes filled.
“I should’ve taken him home earlier.”
“Why?”
She looked toward the pavilion.
“Miss Coralie had been bothering him all evening.”
That changed my attention.
“How?”
Small things.
Correcting the way he held a fork.
Telling him to stop repeating words.
Telling Adela that servants’ children should not wander among guests.
Then Finnian disappeared for several minutes.
Adela found him near the elevator.
Coralie arrived almost immediately and told her the boy had been snooping.
“What did he say then?”
Adela hesitated.
“That he saw Miss Coralie with a man.”
“And you?”
“I told him we would talk later.”
Reasonable.
Then Coralie took the microphone during speeches.
Asked Finnian publicly what he had seen.
The child became frightened.
Stuttered.
Coralie imitated him.
Turned uncertainty into entertainment.
By the time I arrived beside them, she had almost succeeded in making everyone remember the stutter instead of the question.
Clever.
Cruel.
I looked at Finnian.
“Did you go into the elevator?”
He shook his head.
“The doors opened.”
“And?”
“Coralie was inside.”
“With Cassian?”
“I don’t know his name.”
Fair.
“He kissed her?”
Finnian nodded.
“Then gave her the key?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
The boy stared at the floor.
His stutter returned.
“H-he said… t-tell Truman the old house still remembers who built it.”
My blood went cold.
Cassian loved dramatic sentences.
That sounded exactly like him.
Then Finnian whispered:
“And Coralie said after tonight nobody would care what you remembered.”
Adela covered her mouth.
I stood slowly.
Not an affair alone.
Not even close.
Coralie had been discussing me.
My authority.
My memory.
With a man who once tried to break my family apart.
I told Adela:
“Take Finnian downstairs to my private sitting room.”
She looked uncertain.
“Are we in trouble?”
“No.”
Then I looked at Finnian.
“Neither of you.”
His shoulders loosened.
Good.
A six-year-old should not have to wonder whether telling the truth cost his mother her job.
I waited until they left.
Then I turned toward the private elevator.
“Rafe.”
My security chief stepped beside me.
“Open it.”
May you like
The doors slid apart.
The button for the basement level was already lit.
