Chapter 6 - BEFORE CELESTE BECAME HIS WIFE
Ethan had met Celeste at a charity gala eighteen months after Claire died.
At least that was what he had believed.
The photograph proved Celeste had known his family long before.
Claire’s journal proved more.
Celeste had followed Ethan.
Studied him.
Learned his schedule.
His preferences.
His grief.
Even the charity gala had not been accidental.
Investigators recovered emails between Richard and Celeste.
Some were nearly five years old.
Ethan attends the Pembroke benefit every year.
Another:
He will be easier once enough time has passed.
Another:
Do not approach before the first anniversary. It will look deliberate.
Ethan stopped reading.
He felt physically sick.
Their first conversation.
Celeste had “accidentally” bumped into him near the terrace.
She knew his favorite bourbon.
She loved the same jazz records.
She said she had lost someone too.
Every shared interest had been research.
Every sympathetic glance had been strategy.
Their entire relationship had been built like a financial acquisition.
Sophie sat across the room coloring.
Ethan looked at her.
Celeste had hugged her.
Read bedtime stories.
Made pancakes shaped like stars.
Had any of it been real?
That question somehow hurt more than the affair.
Alvarez entered.
“We have another problem.”
“What?”
“Celeste is missing.”
Ethan stood.
“She was under monitoring.”
“She cut the ankle device.”
“When?”
“Forty minutes ago.”
“Where would she go?”
Alvarez looked toward the Project Haven documents.
“We think she’s going after whatever Richard didn’t destroy.”
Within an hour, police descended on Claire’s former Manhattan office.
Empty.
Then the Project Haven warehouse.
Nothing.
Finally Nora called.
Breathless.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
“What?”
“Someone is inside the mansion.”
Ethan’s heart stopped.
“Sophie is with me.”
Thank God.
“Where are you?”
“Police station.”
Nora had brought Sophie to give a follow-up statement with the child specialist.
The mansion was empty.
Except for whoever had entered.
Police arrived within minutes.
Celeste was found in Claire’s bedroom.
She had torn the hidden wall compartment apart.
But she wasn’t alone.
A second woman stood beside her.
White hair.
Thin frame.
Claire’s sapphire necklace.
Margaret Harrington.
Sophie’s grandmother had returned.
Celeste did not resist arrest.
Margaret did.
Not physically.
Verbally.
“You don’t understand.”
Alvarez looked at her.
“Then help me.”
Margaret pointed toward Celeste.
“She didn’t kill Claire.”
Ethan froze.
Celeste started crying.
Margaret continued.
“Richard did.”
Alvarez’s expression remained unreadable.
“And how do you know?”
May you like
Margaret looked at Ethan.
“Because I watched him do it.”
