Chapter 3
Adrian demanded to see the security log.
Eleanor stopped him.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“Mom, someone used my name.”
“Yes.”
“So let me—”
“No.”
Her voice remained calm.
“You watched Serena hose me down.”
Adrian went still.
“You watched her slap me.”
Silence.
“You watched Grant shove me.”
His face tightened.
“And now you want authority back because something frightened you?”
That landed.
Serena folded her arms.
“This is exactly what I mean.”
Eleanor looked at her.
Serena smiled.
“He’s your son, not one of your soldiers.”
“No.”
Eleanor’s gaze returned to Adrian.
“He’s a grown man who made a choice.”
Adrian looked down.
The gates stayed closed.
Security checked the east entrance.
Both assigned guards had been sent to the south lawn after receiving a verbal instruction from someone claiming Adrian wanted “privacy for the engagement photographs.”
No one had seen Adrian give it.
The east gate had remained unattended for eleven minutes.
Eleanor asked one question.
“Did anyone enter?”
Her security chief, Thomas Vale, nodded.
“One catering van.”
Serena immediately said:
“For dessert.”
Thomas looked at her.
“No.”
Serena’s face tightened.
“The dessert team arrived three hours ago.”
Grant stepped forward.
“Then another vendor.”
Thomas stared at him.
“Without a name?”
Grant smiled.
“You people really enjoy making a crime out of party planning.”
Eleanor turned to Serena.
“What was in the van?”
“I don’t know.”
“Your event.”
“My event planner handled vendors.”
“Where is she?”
Serena paused.
Eleanor noticed.
“So did Grant.”
“Where?”
Serena rolled her eyes.
“She left.”
“When?”
“Before dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because she was done.”
Thomas quietly said:
“She hasn’t left the estate.”
Silence.
Serena looked at him.
Thomas continued.
“Her car is still in staff parking.”
Eleanor stepped toward Serena.
“Where is she?”
Serena laughed nervously.
“You think I kidnapped a florist now?”
Grant smirked.
“Maybe Eleanor’s wet hair is affecting her brain.”
Eleanor looked at him.
Grant kept going.
“Come on.”
He gestured toward the guests.
“Everyone watched you get humiliated.”
Then toward Serena.
“Your problem is that she did in five minutes what half the city never managed.”
Eleanor tilted her head.
“What?”
“Made people laugh at you.”
He smiled.
“You can’t stand it.”
The guests looked uncomfortable now.
Not amused.
Grant didn't notice.
He was enjoying himself too much.
“You should’ve retired after Matteo died.”
Adrian’s head lifted.
Grant continued.
“Let the family remember you as the grieving widow who held things together for a while.”
Eleanor stared at him.
Grant smiled.
“Instead, you started believing the chair belonged to you.”
That word.
Chair.
Not organization.
Not family.
Chair.
Old Bellini language.
Eleanor looked toward Henry.
He had heard it too.
“Where did you learn that phrase?”
Grant’s smile disappeared.
“What?”
“The chair.”
He shrugged.
“Everybody says it.”
“No.”
Henry spoke.
“No, they don’t.”
Grant looked at him.
Henry continued.
“Not unless they learned from the old table.”
Serena snapped:
“This is ridiculous.”
Eleanor ignored her.
The old table had been stored for fifteen years.
Used during Matteo’s father's era.
Along with black-ribbon votes.
Someone had been teaching the Coles Bellini traditions.
Someone inside.
Thomas’s radio crackled.
“Found the event planner.”
Serena’s face went pale.
Eleanor heard it.
“Where?”
“Wine cellar.”
Pause.
“Locked inside.”
Grant muttered something under his breath.
Eleanor turned.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Thomas continued over the radio.
“She says Mr. Cole put her there.”
Every face on the lawn turned toward Grant.
He laughed.
Not convincingly.
“She’s lying.”
Eleanor looked at Serena.
Serena looked at her brother.
Not shocked.
Angry.
May you like
Because he had failed to keep the woman hidden.
That told Eleanor exactly how much Serena already knew.
