Chapter 3: The Woman Who Never Existed
Detective Brooks led them downstairs through the servants' corridor rather than the main staircase.
Richard insisted on keeping James beside him.
Neither man spoke until they reached the private study.
The room smelled of leather, polished mahogany, and the faint cigar smoke Richard had never quite managed to eliminate from its curtains. Rain tapped against the windows. A fire burned low in the marble hearth.
Brooks placed his phone on the desk.
“I've asked my team to verify the information before I make any conclusions,” he said.
“But there are inconsistencies in your wife's background.””
Richard remained standing.
“What inconsistencies?””
“The company that employed her before your marriage doesn't exist anymore. Neither does the charity she claimed to have worked for in London.””
Richard stared at him.
“She gave me references.””
“Two of those references are dead. The third says he has never met her.””
James remembered Victoria's favorite story about her childhood: a wealthy father, a strict boarding school, and summers spent in the south of France.
She had told it so often that even the servants knew the details.
“Are you saying she made everything up?”” James asked.
Brooks nodded slowly.
“Possibly.””
Richard sat behind the desk.
“Then who is she?””
“We're checking.””
Richard struck the desk with his palm.
“Check faster!””
The detective didn't flinch.
“Richard, if your wife has used multiple identities, there's a reason. But we need proof before we confront her with anything else.””
James looked at the window.
Through the rain, he could see the ballroom lights glowing like a golden box in the darkness.
“She took my mother's letter,” he said.
Brooks turned toward him.
“Are you sure?””
“Someone went through my room. The letter and the key are gone.””
“What key?””
James explained the brass key hidden with the letter.
When he finished, Richard opened the desk drawer and removed a ring of old keys.
“Was it one of these?””
James shook his head.
“No. It was smaller. It had a number engraved on it.””
“What number?””
“Thirty-one.””
Richard's hand froze.
The detective noticed.
“Does that mean something?””
Richard looked at the keys in his palm.
“Eleanor had a safe-deposit box at the bank. I haven't opened it since she died.””
“Do you remember the number?”” Brooks asked.
Richard swallowed.
“Thirty-one.””
The room went silent.
James stared at his father.
“Mom had a safe?””
Richard nodded.
“She told me she had placed important papers there. After the accident, I tried to find the key, but it was gone. I assumed the bank had closed the box when the estate was settled.””
“Did you ever ask?”” Brooks said.
“No.””
“Why not?””
Richard's expression crumpled.
“Because I couldn't bear to touch anything that belonged to her.””
James looked at the fire.
His mother had left him a key and a warning. He had spent six weeks wondering what they meant, while the person his mother might have feared slept in the bedroom beside his father's.
“Could the box contain evidence against Victoria?”” he asked.
“Possibly,” Brooks replied.
“But we need to find it first.””
Richard rose abruptly.
“Then we're going to the bank.””
“Not tonight,” Brooks said.
“It's almost midnight, and we don't know whether Victoria has accomplices. We need to secure the house and arrange for a warrant if necessary.””
Richard looked ready to argue.
Then someone knocked on the study door.
Arthur entered, his face pale.
“Sir, Mrs. Whitmore is asking to speak with you.””
Richard's eyes narrowed.
“Where is she?””
“In the ballroom.””
“Is she alone?””
Arthur hesitated.
“No, sir. Mr. Martin Hale is with her.””
Brooks exchanged a glance with Richard.
“Martin Hale,” he repeated.
“The foundation chairman?””
“Yes,” Arthur said.
Richard reached for his jacket.
“Let's go.””
The three of them returned to the ballroom.
The guests were still gathered in small, nervous groups. Some had begun checking their phones. Others whispered behind champagne glasses.
Victoria stood beside the grand piano with Martin Hale, holding a fresh glass of water.
She had changed her expression completely.
Her eyes were red, her shoulders slumped, and a delicate handkerchief rested between her fingers.
When she saw Richard, she hurried toward him.
“Darling, thank God.””
She reached for his arm.
Richard stepped away.
Victoria stopped.
For the first time, her grief-stricken mask slipped.
“Richard?””
“Where is the bottle you used for my wine?””
“I told you. I brought it from the cellar.””
“Which cellar?””
“The one beneath the west wing.””
Arthur frowned.
“Sir, we don't have a cellar beneath the west wing.””
Victoria's face hardened.
“Of course we do. You showed it to me when we moved in.””
Arthur bowed his head slightly.
“I have worked here for thirty-two years, madam. There is a wine cellar beneath the north wing, but the west wing has no cellar.””
A whisper moved through the crowd.
Martin Hale stepped forward.
“This is absurd. Victoria has been under considerable stress. Perhaps we should all go home and let the family settle this privately.””
Richard turned toward him.
“Why are you defending her?””
“Because I've known her for years.””
“Apparently, nobody knows her at all.””
Martin's face reddened.
“Watch your words, Richard.””
Brooks moved between them.
“Mr. Hale, I'd like you to remain available for questioning.””
“Questioning? About what?””
“Your relationship with Mrs. Whitmore.””
Martin laughed sharply.
“This is a family dispute, Detective.””
“Then you won't mind answering a few questions.””
Victoria gripped Martin's arm.
“Don't say another word.””
The warning was quiet, but James heard it.
So did Richard.
“Interesting,” Richard said.
“You seem very concerned about what Mr. Hale might say.””
Victoria released Martin.
“I am concerned that my husband is humiliating me in front of his guests.””
“You tried to have me drink something dangerous.””
“That's a lie!””
“Then tell us where the bottle is.””
Victoria opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Richard stepped closer.
“Where is it?””
She glanced at Martin.
He looked away.
That was when James noticed something strange about the chairman's left hand.
His thumb was wrapped in a fresh white bandage.
The same kind of bandage James had seen on the man who visited the mansion after midnight two weeks earlier.
The man who had stood outside his father's study while Victoria whispered through the door.
James pointed.
“Dad. Look at his hand.””
Martin immediately pulled it behind his back.
Richard's expression darkened.
“What happened to your thumb?””
“Kitchen accident.””
“At a charity meeting?”” Richard asked.
“You told me you were in Boston all week.””
Martin said nothing.
Brooks moved toward him.
“Mr. Hale, keep your hands where I can see them.””
Martin's eyes flicked toward the ballroom doors.
The security guards moved to block his path.
Victoria suddenly began to cry.
“Richard, please. I know how this looks, but I swear I've done nothing to hurt you.””
He watched her without speaking.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Everything I've done has been for us.””
“Then explain the false identity.””
Victoria went completely still.
Martin's head snapped toward her.
Richard noticed.
“Ah,” he said softly.
“So you know what he's talking about.””
Victoria wiped her cheeks.
“Richard, you don't understand.””
“Then help me understand.””
She looked at James.
Something cold and vicious flashed in her eyes.
“Your son has always wanted to destroy me.””
James felt his hands curl into fists.
“You took Mom's letter.””
“Your mother left you nothing but confusion.””
“She left me the truth.””
Victoria laughed.
“The truth? Your mother was a frightened woman who saw conspiracies everywhere.””
Richard's face changed.
“Don't speak about Eleanor that way.””
“Why not? She accused everyone around her of stealing. She was obsessed with money, obsessed with you, obsessed with protecting a fortune she didn't even understand.””
James stepped forward.
“She was my mother.””
“And she's dead,” Victoria snapped.
The words struck the room like a gunshot.
Richard went utterly still.
Victoria realized what she had said.
She reached for him.
“Richard, I didn't mean—”
He stepped away.
“No. You meant every word.””
She stared at him, breathing hard.
Then her eyes shifted toward Martin.
The chairman's jaw tightened.
For a moment, James thought Martin might try to run.
Instead, he reached into his jacket.
Brooks immediately drew his weapon.
“Slowly, Mr. Hale. Take your hand out one finger at a time.””
Martin froze.
Then, with exaggerated care, he removed a folded sheet of paper.
“I'm not armed,” he said.
“This is a document.””
Brooks took it.
Richard watched the detective unfold the page.
“What is it?””
Brooks scanned the first lines.
His expression changed.
“It's a copy of a trust amendment.””
Richard frowned.
“What trust amendment?””
Brooks handed him the paper.
Richard read the heading.
Then he read it again.
The document purported to transfer control of James's inheritance into a private company managed by an individual identified as Eleanor Whitmore's sole surviving legal representative.
But Eleanor had been dead for three years.
Richard looked up.
“This document is dated last month.””
Martin said nothing.
“Who prepared it?””
Silence.
Richard's voice rose.
“Who prepared it?””
Victoria stepped forward.
“I did.””
The room erupted in whispers.
Richard stared at her as if he had never seen her before.
“You tried to change my son's inheritance without my permission?””
“I was protecting the family assets.””
“You were stealing from my child!””
“I was protecting you from him!”” she shouted, pointing at James.
“You have no idea what he has been doing behind your back.””
James felt his stomach tighten.
“What are you talking about?””
Victoria smiled through her tears.
“Ask your son why he has been visiting your mother's old solicitor. Ask him why he knows so much about the trust. Ask him what he promised that woman in exchange for her help.””
Richard turned toward James.
“Have you been meeting with a solicitor?””
James hesitated.
He had met Eleanor's former solicitor once, three weeks earlier, after discovering a second envelope in the dressing room.
But he hadn't told his father because Victoria had been standing outside the study when he returned.
“I met her once,” he admitted.
“I wanted to know what Mom's letter meant.””
Victoria lifted her chin triumphantly.
“There. You see? He's been conspiring against you.””
“No,” James said.
“I went because I thought you were hiding something.””
“And what did the solicitor tell you?””
James opened his mouth.
Then he remembered the woman's final warning.
If anyone asks what you found, say nothing until your father is present.
He looked at Richard.
“I can't explain it here.””
Victoria laughed.
“Of course you can't.””
Richard held up his hand.
“That's enough.””
He turned toward Detective Brooks.
“Secure the trust documents. I want every account reviewed, every signature verified, and every person involved identified.””
Brooks nodded.
Martin's face had gone gray.
“Richard, this is a misunderstanding.””
“Then you'll have plenty of time to explain it.””
As the detective led Martin toward the side doors, Victoria suddenly lunged for the document in Richard's hand.
She tore at the paper.
Richard jerked backward, but one corner ripped away.
“Give it to me!”” she screamed.
Security guards seized her arms.
She struggled, her diamond bracelet catching on a guard's sleeve.
“You don't understand what happens if that document is exposed!””
Richard stared at her.
“What happens?””
Victoria stopped fighting.
For a moment, the only sound was the rain.
Then she whispered, “They'll come for him.””
Her eyes shifted to James.
Not Richard.
James.
The guards tightened their grip.
Brooks turned back.
“Who will come for him?””
Victoria's mouth trembled.
Then she smiled again, and the expression was more frightening than her anger.
“You think I'm the worst thing your family has ever faced?””
She leaned toward Richard.
“You should ask your son why his mother left him a key to a safe that doesn't belong to the bank.””
Richard frowned.
James felt his blood turn cold.
The brass key had been engraved with the number thirty-one.
But Victoria had just said something impossible.
She knew about the key.
And she knew it didn't belong to the bank.
Before anyone could question her, every light in the ballroom went out.
Someone screamed.
Glass shattered near the bar.
A heavy door slammed.
Then a single gunshot echoed from the corridor.
May you like
When the emergency lights flickered on, Victoria was gone.
And on the marble floor, beside the broken wineglass, lay a small white envelope addressed to James.
