Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN WHO WASN'T DEADEvelyn stared at Dominic.
“What do you mean, who told me?”
Around them, the ballroom remained unnaturally quiet.
Dominic glanced at the guests.
“Everyone out.”
Cassandra blinked. “Dominic—”
“Now.”
He never raised his voice.
He didn't need to.
Within seconds, conversations erupted as guests began drifting toward the doors.
Cassandra moved in front of him.
“You cannot throw two hundred people out of our rehearsal dinner because some waitress happens to own a piece of jewelry.”
“She's not a waitress,” Evelyn said.
Cassandra looked at her.
Evelyn straightened despite the pain across her back.
“My name is Evelyn.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Get a doctor.”
“I don't need one.”
“You're bleeding.”
“I've had worse.”
Something about that answer disturbed him.
A gray-haired man approached from the edge of the ballroom.
“Mr. Sterling?”
Dominic nodded.
“Dr. Barrett, please look after Ms. Hart.”
Cassandra laughed.
“Ms. Hart?”
Dominic turned.
“Enough.”
One word.
Cassandra stopped.
Five minutes later, Evelyn was sitting inside a private library while Dr. Barrett cleaned the scratches on her back.
“They're superficial,” he said. “Painful, but nothing needs stitches.”
“Good.”
“You should still document them.”
Evelyn glanced toward Dominic.
“I intend to.”
Cassandra's eyes flashed.
Dominic noticed.
“So do I.”
That silenced her.
After the doctor left, Evelyn remained standing near the fireplace.
She wasn't going to sit comfortably while the richest people in the city decided what happened to her.
“My mother died when I was four,” she said. “That's what my aunt told me.”
Dominic stood beside a mahogany desk.
“What was your aunt's name?”
“Margaret Hart.”
Cassandra interrupted. “This is insane.”
Dominic ignored her.
“Do you remember Rose?”
“Pieces.”
Evelyn touched the locket.
“Her perfume. Her singing in the kitchen. A red coat.”
Dominic looked down.
“And the locket?”
“She gave it to me.”
“When?”
“I don't know. I've had it as long as I can remember.”
Dominic crossed the room to an old cabinet.
He opened a drawer and removed a wooden box.
Cassandra suddenly stepped forward.
“Dominic, don't.”
He looked at her.
That was all it took.
She stopped again.
Inside the box lay a photograph.
Dominic carried it to Evelyn.
The image was old.
Five people stood beside a sailboat.
A teenage Dominic.
An older man Evelyn recognized from newspaper photographs as Dominic's late father, Vincent Sterling.
A smiling dark-haired woman.
And beside her—
Evelyn forgot how to breathe.
The woman was wearing a silver locket.
The same rose.
The same stars.
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
Evelyn's fingers shook.
“Why do you have this?”
“Because Rose Hart worked for my father.”
Cassandra folded her arms.
“Millions of people worked for your father.”
Dominic's eyes stayed on Evelyn.
“Rose wasn't one of millions.”
“What did she do?”
“She kept his accounts.”
Evelyn frowned.
“Accounting?”
“Among other things.”
It was the polite version.
Everyone understood.
The Sterling empire had legitimate companies—shipping, hotels, construction, restaurants.
But its foundations had been built in a darker era.
Vincent Sterling had spent twenty years turning a criminal organization into a mostly legitimate corporate network.
Mostly.
Rose Hart, apparently, had stood beside him during that transformation.
“My father trusted very few people,” Dominic said. “Rose was one of them.”
Evelyn pointed at the picture.
“You said she isn't dead.”
“I said someone may have lied to you.”
“Why?”
Dominic hesitated.
That hesitation frightened her.
Cassandra suddenly spoke.
“Because Rose stole from his family.”
Dominic's head snapped toward her.
Evelyn looked at Cassandra.
“What?”
Cassandra smiled faintly.
“That's the story, isn't it, darling?”
Dominic's voice became quiet.
“How do you know that?”
Cassandra realized too late what she'd said.
“My father mentioned it.”
“Your father never met Rose Hart.”
“He knew people.”
“So do I.”
Cassandra's smile disappeared.
Dominic stepped toward her.
“When did you first hear Rose's name?”
“Years ago.”
“From whom?”
“I don't remember.”
“Interesting.”
Evelyn's heartbeat quickened.
Dominic turned back to her.
“Twenty-eight years ago, Rose disappeared.”
“The year I was four.”
“Yes.”
“Your family thought she stole money?”
“Five million dollars.”
Evelyn almost laughed.
“My mother lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Queens.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“We looked.”
Cassandra stared at Dominic.
“You never told me that.”
“Because you had no reason to know.”
Evelyn felt dizzy.
“You investigated my mother?”
“My father did. For years.”
“And?”
“No money was ever found.”
“Her body?”
“No.”
“But my aunt said there was a car accident.”
“There was.”
Evelyn's throat tightened.
Dominic continued.
“A car registered to Rose went off a bridge north of Albany. It burned before police reached it.”
“And they identified her.”
“No.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“What?”
“No remains were recovered.”
The library seemed to tilt.
Her entire childhood had been shaped by one certainty.
Her mother was dead.
She remembered sitting beside Margaret Hart at seven years old, asking where heaven was.
At twelve, she had written letters to Rose and buried them beneath a maple tree.
At eighteen, when she graduated high school, she'd carried that locket under her gown.
When her daughter Lily was born, Evelyn had whispered, “Your grandmother would have loved you.”
And now this stranger was telling her there had never been a body.
“Why would Aunt Margaret lie?”
“I don't know.”
A buzz came from Dominic's phone.
He checked it.
His expression hardened.
“What?” Evelyn asked.
Dominic didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked toward Cassandra.
“Your father just left the property.”
Cassandra shrugged.
“He probably went home.”
“He left without you.”
“So?”
“He also shut off his phone.”
Cassandra's confidence wavered.
Dominic typed something.
Seconds later, one of his security men entered.
“Sir.”
“Lock the estate gates.”
Cassandra recoiled.
“Excuse me?”
“Your father doesn't leave.”
“You can't imprison my family!”
“I can ask why he ran thirty seconds after hearing the name Rose Hart.”
Cassandra's face changed.
Evelyn noticed.
“You knew my mother.”
“No.”
“You recognized the locket.”
“I recognized an antique.”
“You asked where I got it before Dominic said anything.”
Cassandra took a step toward her.
“You're confused.”
“No.”
For years Evelyn had worked jobs where wealthy people spoke to her as if intelligence came with a bank balance.
Tonight she was finished accepting it.
“You were scared.”
Cassandra laughed.
“Of you?”
“Not me.”
Evelyn held up the locket.
“Of this.”
Dominic looked at his fiancée.
“She's right.”
Cassandra crossed her arms.
“Fine. Believe the hired help.”
Dominic's expression turned cold.
“She has a name.”
“Oh, please. Yesterday you didn't know she existed.”
“That doesn't make what you did acceptable.”
Cassandra stared at him.
For perhaps the first time, she realized he wasn't rescuing her.
“You're embarrassing me.”
“You whipped a woman in front of two hundred people.”
“It barely touched her.”
Evelyn turned her back toward Cassandra, revealing the dressings beneath the torn uniform.
“You want to reconsider that?”
Cassandra looked away.
Dominic's phone buzzed again.
This time he answered.
“Speak.”
A man's voice was faintly audible.
Dominic listened.
His gaze shifted to Evelyn.
“Where?”
Silence.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Send it.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Evelyn demanded.
Dominic walked to the desk and turned a laptop toward her.
An image appeared.
Security footage.
A black sedan leaving the rear service road of Sterling Manor approximately fifteen minutes earlier.
Cassandra's father, Gregory Vale, was behind the wheel.
Beside him was Margaret Hart.
Evelyn's aunt.
Her dead mother's sister.
Evelyn gripped the desk.
“That can't be right.”
Dominic enlarged the frame.
It was Margaret.
Older now.
Gray hair.
Same narrow chin.
Same glasses.
Evelyn hadn't spoken to her aunt in nine months after a disagreement about money.
But there was no mistake.
“What is she doing here?”
Dominic looked at Cassandra.
“I'd like to know that too.”
Cassandra backed toward the door.
Dominic noticed.
“Where are you going?”
“To my room.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You don't command me.”
“I want your phone.”
“You're joking.”
Dominic held out his hand.
After several seconds, she slapped the phone into his palm.
He unlocked it.
“How do you know my code?”
“You use our wedding date.”
He searched the messages.
Evelyn watched Cassandra's face.
The arrogance was gone.
In its place was calculation.
Then Dominic stopped scrolling.
His eyes darkened.
“What's ‘Operation Rose’?”
Evelyn's skin went cold.
Cassandra said nothing.
Dominic turned the phone around.
A message from Gregory Vale had been sent that afternoon.
Make sure the Hart woman never gets near Dominic. If the locket appears, handle it immediately. Operation Rose cannot surface before the wedding.
Evelyn read it twice.
Then a third time.
She touched the locket.
“What is Operation Rose?”
Cassandra swallowed.
“I don't know.”
Dominic moved closer.
“Then why did you reply?”
Evelyn looked at the screen.
Beneath Gregory's message was Cassandra's response.
Don't worry. By tomorrow, everything Sterling owns will finally be ours.
No one spoke.
Then Dominic did something Evelyn hadn't expected.
He removed the engagement ring from Cassandra's finger.
She gasped.
“What are you doing?”
“The wedding is canceled.”
Her face collapsed.
“Dominic—”
“You wanted the Sterling name.”
“You love me!”
“I loved the woman I thought you were.”
“You can't do this because of some maid!”
Dominic's voice became deadly calm.
“This isn't because of Evelyn.”
He placed the diamond ring on the desk.
“This is because I finally saw you.”
Cassandra stared at the ring.
Then at Evelyn.
Hatred filled her face.
“You have no idea what you've done.”
Evelyn looked at the blood on her uniform.
“Actually, Cassandra, I think you made the first move.”
A security man entered again.
“We found Mr. Vale's car.”
Dominic turned.
“Where?”
“Three miles east.”
“And Vale?”
“Gone.”
“Margaret Hart?”
“Gone.”
The man hesitated.
“But there was something in the back seat.”
“What?”
He handed Dominic a plastic evidence sleeve.
Inside was an old photograph.
Evelyn recognized herself immediately.
Four years old.
Sitting in Rose Hart's lap.
Across the bottom, written in faded blue ink, were six words.
Dominic read them aloud.
If they find Evelyn, tell Dominic everything.
Underneath was a date.
Three days ago.
Evelyn's knees almost gave way.
May you like
Because her mother had supposedly been dead for twenty-eight years.
Yet the handwriting on that photograph looked fresh.
Related Stories
