Chapter 3: Emily’s Last Warning
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Not Chloe.
Not Marisol.
Not me.
Even Hector seemed to stop breathing beside me.
On the kitchen monitor, Chloe still held the photograph between two fingers.
Marisol was half-kneeling against the island where Chloe had shoved her, one hand pressed to her ribs.
“What do you mean?”” Marisol whispered.
Chloe looked down at her.
“You heard me.””
“Emily died three years ago.””
“I’m aware.””
“You didn’t even know Alexander then.””
A strange smile touched Chloe’s mouth.
That smile frightened me more than anything I had watched so far.
Because Marisol was right.
According to everything Chloe had ever told me, we had met for the first time at a charity dinner eighteen months after Emily died.
I could still remember it.
Chloe in a dark green dress.
A glass of champagne in her hand.
She had bumped into me near the auction tables and laughed when some of her drink spilled onto my jacket.
“Apparently this is how I introduce myself now,” she had joked.
I thought it was charming.
Accidental.
Fate, even.
Now I stared at the woman on the monitor and felt the memory rot inside my head.
Marisol pushed herself upright.
“How did you know Emily?””
Chloe’s smile vanished.
“I didn’t say I knew her.””
“You knew about the letters.””
“That proves nothing.””
“You knew where they were.””
“No.””
“You knew what they said.””
Chloe stepped closer.
“Stop talking.””
Marisol didn’t.
“You knew Emily was afraid.””
“Stop.””
“You knew before you ever came into this house.””
“Marisol.””
“You knew her.””
Chloe slapped her.
The sound cracked through the security room speakers.
My body moved before my mind did.
I reached the door.
Hector caught my shoulder.
“Wait.””
I spun toward him.
“She just hit her.””
“And now we know she’s hiding something about Emily.””
“I don’t care.””
“You will if she destroys the evidence the second she sees you.””
My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.
He pointed at the screens.
“Two more minutes.””
I hated him for being right.
I hated myself more for staying.
On-screen, Marisol slowly turned her face back toward Chloe.
A red mark was already forming across her cheek.
“You’re afraid,” Marisol said.
Chloe’s eyes narrowed.
“No.””
“Yes.””
Marisol glanced at the photograph in Chloe’s hand.
“You’ve been afraid of this for a long time.””
Chloe looked toward the hallway again.
Then she crouched and began gathering the scattered pages.
Marisol reached for them.
Chloe shoved her hand away.
“These are mine now.””
“No, they aren’t.””
“Try to stop me.””
Marisol suddenly grabbed the black notebook.
She held it against her chest.
Chloe stared at her.
“Give me that.””
“No.””
“Do you really want to lose your job?””
Marisol gave a quiet, bitter laugh.
“You think I care about cleaning this house?””
Chloe’s face hardened.
“You should. Women like you don’t get many opportunities like this.””
Hector muttered something under his breath.
Marisol stood straighter.
“Women like me?””
“You know exactly what I mean.””
“Yes,” Marisol said.
“I do.””
Chloe stepped forward.
“Then remember your place.””
Marisol looked toward the ceiling.
Not at Chloe.
At the camera.
My chest tightened.
Did she know?
She stared directly into the lens for half a second.
Then she said, very clearly, “My place is wherever those girls are safe.””
Chloe followed her gaze.
And froze.
My stomach dropped.
She saw the camera.
Not the camera itself.
The tiny dark reflection in the decorative molding where Hector’s team had concealed it.
Chloe’s expression changed instantly.
“Hector.””
He was already typing.
“Kill the monitor lights in the garage corridor.””
“Does she know?””
“I don’t know.””
Chloe stepped closer to the kitchen molding.
She squinted.
Then her phone rang.
She jumped.
The tension broke.
She looked at the screen.
And whatever name appeared there made her forget about the camera.
She answered immediately.
“What?””
A man’s voice came faintly through the speakers.
We couldn’t make out the words.
Chloe walked toward the pantry.
“No, he’s gone.””
Pause.
“Yes, I’m sure.””
I looked at Hector.
He was already recording the audio separately.
Chloe lowered her voice.
“Canada. Four days.””
Another pause.
Then her face tightened.
“I know what day it is.””
My skin prickled.
What day?
September seventeenth.
It meant nothing to me beyond being Thursday.
But apparently it meant something to Chloe.
She looked back toward Marisol.
“I said I’ll handle it.””
The man spoke again.
Chloe whispered, “Don’t call this number.””
Then she ended the call.
Hector picked up his radio.
“Can you trace incoming traffic on the residence network?””
A voice answered through his earpiece.
“Working on it.””
Chloe slipped the phone into her pocket.
Marisol hadn’t moved.
“Who was that?”” she asked.
“None of your business.””
“Does Alexander know?””
Chloe laughed.
“Alexander knows exactly what I want him to know.””
The words landed harder than they should have.
Because until that morning, I had believed I knew everything important about the woman I intended to marry.
Her childhood in Connecticut.
Her years studying interior design in Boston.
Her failed engagement in her twenties.
Her mother’s illness.
Her fear of flying.
Her dislike of lilies.
Her habit of sleeping with the television on.
How much of it was real?
Marisol looked down at the photograph still in Chloe’s hand.
“Give me Emily’s picture.””
“No.””
“It doesn’t belong to you.””
“Neither does this family.””
Marisol’s eyes sharpened.
“You really believe that, don’t you?””
Chloe stepped close enough that their faces were inches apart.
“In three months, this becomes my family.””
“No.””
“Yes.””
“The girls will never accept you.””
“They don’t have to.””
The answer came too quickly.
Too casually.
Marisol went still.
“What does that mean?””
Chloe realized her mistake.
“Nothing.””
“What does it mean?””
“It means children adapt.””
“To what?””
Chloe smiled again.
“To change.””
A chill moved through me.
I looked toward the monitor showing the upstairs hallway.
Sofia was sitting outside Valeria’s bedroom, hugging her knees.
Valeria stood inside the doorway, rubbing the wrist Chloe had grabbed.
My daughters were less than fifty feet from me.
I could reach them in under a minute.
Yet I felt as though I had abandoned them for years.
Then Hector’s phone vibrated.
He looked at it.
His expression changed.
“What?””
He didn’t answer immediately.
“Hector.””
“The call.””
“What about it?””
“My team pulled the routing information.””
“And?””
“It came through a prepaid number.””
“Registered to who?””
“No registration.””
I stared at him.
“Can you locate it?””
“Roughly.””
“Where?””
He looked back at the message.
“About twelve miles from here.””
“That tells me nothing.””
“There’s more.””
He turned the screen toward me.
The phone had connected through a tower near St. Catherine’s Memorial Hospital.
I stopped.
Emily had died at St. Catherine’s.
“Coincidence,” Hector said quietly.
I looked at him.
Neither of us believed it.
On the kitchen screen, Chloe stuffed several photographs into the pocket of her cardigan.
Marisol noticed.
“Those stay here.””
Chloe ignored her.
Marisol reached for her.
Chloe spun around.
“Touch me again and I’ll tell Alexander you stole from his daughters.””
Marisol froze.
There it was.
The missing jewelry.
The cash.
The accusations.
Not suspicion.
A weapon.
“You planted those things,” Marisol said.
Chloe smiled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.””
“You took Valeria’s earrings.””
“No.””
“You took the bracelet.””
“No.””
“And the money from Alexander’s office.””
Chloe tilted her head.
“Can you prove that?””
Marisol’s face fell.
Chloe’s smile widened.
“I didn’t think so.””
“Why?””
“Why what?””
“Why are you doing this?””
Chloe’s expression became almost bored.
“Because you should have left when I gave you the chance.””
“What chance?””
“I offered you six months’ salary.””
“You tried to buy me out.””
“I tried to help you.””
“You told me the girls needed to learn independence.””
“They do.””
“They’re nine and six.””
“They’re spoiled.””
“They lost their mother.””
“And everyone in this house treats that like a lifetime exemption from discipline.””
Marisol stared at her.
Then she said something that made Chloe’s face change again.
“Emily warned me about someone like you.””
Silence.
Chloe’s fingers tightened around the photograph.
“What did you say?””
“Before she died.””
“Don’t.””
“She made me promise.””
“Stop talking.””
“She told me that if anyone ever came into this house and tried to separate Alexander from the girls—”
“Shut up.””
“—I was supposed to open the blue box.””
Chloe went completely still.
I did too.
Blue box?
Marisol watched her carefully.
“You know what that is.””
“No.””
“You do.””
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.””
But Chloe’s face betrayed her.
For the first time that morning, she looked genuinely terrified.
Marisol saw it.
“So that’s why you went into Emily’s room.””
Chloe backed away.
“No.””
“You were looking for the box.””
“No.””
“You found the letters instead.””
“I said no!””
Chloe’s voice echoed through the kitchen.
Upstairs, Sofia lifted her head.
Valeria came into the hallway.
Marisol lowered her voice.
“You never found it, did you?””
Chloe stared at her.
Then slowly, dangerously, she said, “Where is it?””
Marisol smiled without humor.
“You just answered my question.””
Chloe lunged.
Marisol moved backward, but Chloe caught her by the shoulders.
“Where is the box?””
“Get off me.””
“Where did Emily put it?””
“I don’t know.””
“You’re lying!””
“I never opened it!””
Chloe shook her.
“Where is it?””
Marisol shoved her away.
Both women stumbled.
A glass bowl fell from the island and shattered across the floor.
Sofia screamed upstairs.
That was enough.
I headed for the door.
Hector didn’t stop me this time.
But his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
“Alexander.””
I kept walking.
“Alexander!””
Something in his voice stopped me.
I turned.
He was pale.
“What?””
“My guy at St. Catherine’s.””
“What about him?””
“He checked the prepaid phone location against public access points near the hospital.””
“And?””
Hector swallowed.
“The caller wasn’t at the hospital.””
“Then where?””
He turned the screen toward me.
Across the street from St. Catherine’s was a small private storage facility.
St. Catherine Secure Storage.
I stared at the name.
“So?””
Hector enlarged the message.
“The prepaid phone has connected from that location repeatedly.””
“How repeatedly?””
“Every September seventeenth for the last three years.””
I felt the floor disappear beneath me.
“Today is September seventeenth.””
“Yes.””
“Why that date?””
Hector looked at me.
“You tell me.””
I searched my memory.
Emily died on October second.
Our anniversary was June.
Her birthday was March.
September seventeenth.
September seventeenth.
Then I remembered.
Not from my marriage.
From the hospital.
Three years earlier, Emily had been admitted to St. Catherine’s on September seventeenth.
The day her condition suddenly worsened.
The day doctors told me the cancer had spread aggressively.
The beginning of her final two weeks.
I whispered, “That’s the day Emily went into the hospital.””
Hector’s expression hardened.
Before I could say anything else, the security room speaker crackled.
Marisol’s voice.
“I don’t have the blue box.””
Chloe answered.
“Then who does?””
“I don’t know.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“Emily never told me where she put it. She only told me how to find the key.””
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Chloe stepped closer.
“What key?””
Marisol hesitated.
“Tell me.””
“No.””
Chloe grabbed her arm again.
“Tell me!””
Marisol stared at her.
Then a small voice came from the kitchen doorway.
“I know where it is.””
Both women turned.
So did I.
Valeria stood there.
Sofia was behind her.
My nine-year-old daughter looked terrified, but determined.
Chloe released Marisol.
“What did you say?””
Valeria swallowed.
“Mommy showed me.””
Marisol’s eyes widened.
“Valeria, don’t.””
But it was too late.
Chloe slowly approached my daughter.
“Your mother showed you the key?””
Valeria nodded.
“Where?””
She hesitated.
Chloe crouched in front of her.
Her voice suddenly became gentle.
The fake voice.
The one I knew.
“Sweetheart, where did Mommy put it?””
Valeria looked toward Marisol.
Marisol shook her head.
“Don’t tell her.””
Chloe’s jaw tightened.
“Marisol, stay out of this.””
Valeria whispered, “It’s not in the house.””
Chloe’s face changed.
“Where is it?””
Valeria looked down at the small silver necklace around her neck.
A necklace I had seen her wear almost every day since Emily died.
My breath caught.
Valeria reached beneath her shirt.
And pulled out a tiny silver key.
Chloe stared at it.
So did I.
Then Valeria said, “Mommy told me I could only use it if someone tried to make me afraid of Daddy.””
The security room became completely silent.
Chloe reached for the key.
Valeria stepped backward.
And for the first time, Chloe lost all control.
“Give me that!””
She grabbed for my daughter.
I was already running.
I tore open the security room door and sprinted through the garage corridor.
Behind me, Hector shouted into his radio.
“Move! Main house! Now!””
My footsteps thundered against the marble.
I heard Sofia screaming.
I heard Marisol yelling.
Then I heard Chloe.
“You have no idea what your mother did!””
I reached the kitchen doorway.
Everyone froze.
Chloe’s hand was wrapped around Valeria’s wrist.
My daughter was crying.
The silver key hung between them.
Chloe stared at me as if she had seen a ghost.
“Alexander?””
I walked toward her.
My voice came out quieter than I expected.
“Take your hand off my daughter.””
She released Valeria instantly.
“A-Alexander, what are you doing here?””
Valeria ran into my arms.
I held her.
Sofia ran to me too.
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
I just held my daughters.
Then I looked over their heads at Chloe.
She was pale.
Marisol stood beside the island, one cheek red, the black notebook pressed against her chest.
Chloe tried to smile.
“This isn’t what it looks like.””
“I watched everything.””
Her smile died.
“What?””
“Every word.””
She glanced toward the camera.
Then back at me.
“Alexander, listen to me.””
“No.””
“Marisol has been manipulating—”
“I watched you hurt Valeria.””
“I didn’t hurt her.””
“She told you to let go.””
“I was trying to discipline—”
“You told my daughters I leave because of them.””
Chloe’s mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
“You told Sofia her mother was dead as if that gave you permission to erase her.””
“Alexander—”
“You stole Emily’s letters.””
“No.””
“You framed Marisol.””
“That’s not true.””
“And somehow you know about a box my wife hid before she died.””
Chloe’s face drained of color.
I took Valeria’s silver key gently in my hand.
Then I looked at my daughter.
“Sweetheart, did Mommy ever tell you what this opens?””
Valeria wiped her tears.
She nodded.
“What?””
“A locker.””
Chloe whispered, “No.””
I looked at her.
Valeria continued.
“Mommy said there was something inside it for you.””
My chest tightened.
“For me?””
Valeria nodded.
“And she said something else.””
“What?””
My daughter looked directly at Chloe.
“Mommy said if Daddy ever brought a woman named Chloe into our house…”
Chloe stumbled backward.
I felt every hair on my arms rise.
Valeria tightened her arms around me.
May you like
Then she finished the sentence.
“…I had to make sure Chloe never found the locker first.””
