Chapter 10
Genevieve denied killing my wife.
Specific words.
I noticed.
“I never touched Elena’s car.”
I had not mentioned the car.
Julian looked at her.
So did I.
“What happened to Elena’s car?”
Nothing.
My heart began pounding differently.
The old grief I kept locked beneath years of command suddenly felt new.
“Elena got sick at the lake house.”
Genevieve folded her arms.
“She recovered.”
“Then two months later she died.”
“That road was dangerous.”
Again.
Too much information offered without a question.
I stared at her.
My wife had been alone when her car left the mountain road.
At least that was the story.
I had never treated her death as betrayal because nobody around me suggested it.
Why would they?
Genevieve stood beside me at the funeral.
Julian carried Ethan.
I remembered.
I hated remembering.
“Julian.”
He looked at me.
“Did you know?”
His face went pale.
“No.”
I believed that.
Then Genevieve laughed softly.
“You’re turning every tragedy in your life into my conspiracy.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I’m asking why you keep answering questions I haven’t asked.”
Her smile disappeared.
Sarah entered quietly.
She had heard enough from the hallway to understand.
“Mr. Moretti.”
I turned.
She held something.
An old photograph.
Elena with Sarah.
Housekeeper and mistress of the estate, laughing in the kitchen.
On the back was a note in Elena’s handwriting.
Sarah swallowed.
“She gave this to me the week before the lake house.”
I took it.
There were four words beneath the date.
WATCH WHAT GENEVIEVE SERVES.
My throat tightened.
Sarah’s eyes filled.
“I thought she meant gossip. Family tension.”
I stared at the handwriting.
May you like
Elena had suspected my aunt before she became ill.
And she had left a warning with the one woman Genevieve never considered important enough to fear.
