Chapter 2 - THE GRAVE WITH THE WRONG NAME
For several seconds, no one moved.
Rain struck the reinforced windows while the emergency lights painted the corridor red.
I stared at Vivian.
Then at Adrian.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were,” Vivian said.
Adrian stepped forward. “Vivian, let her go.”
“Because you want to lie to her first?”
“She is not ready for this.”
“She has spent three years without a name. When exactly will she be ready?”
I pulled my wrist free.
“Both of you stop talking about me as if I’m not here.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
I pointed toward Vivian. “She says I’m your dead wife.”
He said nothing.
“Tell me she’s wrong.”
The silence answered before he did.
My knees nearly gave way.
Adrian reached for me, but I backed away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Lena, listen to me.”
“Is that even my name?”
He looked as though the question physically hurt him.
“No,” he said at last. “I don’t believe it is.”
The corridor tilted around me.
My lungs refused to take in enough air.
“You hired me because you thought I was Madeleine.”
“I hired you because I needed to know.”
“And then you brought me into her home, watched everything I did, and waited for me to perform some trick that proved I was your dead wife?”
“I was afraid that if I confronted you too soon, you would disappear.”
“Why would I disappear?”
A new voice came from behind Adrian.
“Because someone already went to considerable trouble to make the world believe you were dead.”
Mrs. Whitaker stood at the entrance to the corridor holding a flashlight.
She looked at the open medical suite, and for the first time since I had met her, genuine fear crossed her face.
“Sir, we need to secure the house.”
Adrian did not look away from me. “Lock the gates. No one enters or leaves.”
Vivian began shaking.
“No. He knows.”
“Who knows?” I demanded.
“Julian.”
The name again produced a sharp flash behind my eyes.
A silver lighter clicking open.
A man’s voice saying, She should have kept her mouth shut.
I pressed both hands against my temples.
Adrian caught me before I fell.
The instant he touched me, another image burst through my mind.
A wedding ring sliding onto my finger.
Adrian laughing beneath white roses.
His forehead pressed against mine while music played.
Then fire.
I shoved him away with a cry.
“What did you do to me?”
“Nothing.”
“You locked a woman in your house!”
“I was protecting her.”
Vivian laughed bitterly. “That is what men like you always call it.”
Adrian’s face darkened. “You begged me to hide you when Julian’s people found the clinic.”
“I begged you to protect Madeleine.”
“And I have spent three years trying.”
I looked between them.
“Someone needs to start at the beginning.”
Adrian led us into the medical suite and closed the door.
Mrs. Whitaker remained outside, supposedly securing the manor.
Vivian sat on the edge of the hospital bed, twisting her fingers together.
Adrian stood near the window.
“Three years ago,” he began, “Madeleine discovered financial transfers inside Blackwood Holdings. Millions were being moved through shell companies controlled by my older half-brother, Julian.”
“Why would your wife have access to that information?”
“She was the chief legal officer of the company before we married. She stepped away from the position, but she never stopped paying attention.”
A fragment of memory surfaced.
Ledgers spread across a desk.
My own handwriting circling account numbers.
A voice warning me, Adrian will choose his family over you.
“Madeleine believed Julian was paying officials and manipulating property purchases,” Adrian continued. “She planned to take the evidence to federal investigators.”
“And you stopped her?” I asked.
His eyes met mine. “I asked her to wait forty-eight hours.”
“Why?”
“Because Julian was not acting alone. I needed to know who else was involved.”
Vivian stared at him. “You told her she was destroying the family.”
“I was angry. I was wrong.”
The admission sounded practiced, as if he had repeated it to himself every night for years.
“Madeleine left for the coastal estate,” Adrian said. “We argued over the phone. By the time I arrived, the guesthouse was burning.”
The smell of smoke suddenly filled my imagination.
I saw flames consuming white curtains.
I saw someone wearing red gloves.
“Vivian was there,” he said.
I turned toward her.
She nodded slowly. “You called me because you were frightened. I came through the service entrance. Julian was already inside.”
Adrian’s face hardened. “You never told me that until last year.”
“I didn’t trust you.”
“Why?” I asked.
Vivian looked toward the floor.
“Because Julian said Adrian ordered him to frighten you.”
Adrian slammed his hand against the window frame.
“That was a lie.”
“I know that now.”
My voice shook. “Did you pull me out?”
Vivian’s eyes filled with tears.
“I tried. A support beam fell between us. I thought you were trapped. Then I saw a woman from the catering staff unconscious near the back stairs. Her name was Elena Ruiz. She was wearing your coat because you had given it to her after she spilled wine on her uniform.”
The body.
The wrong body.
“Julian found me outside,” Vivian continued. “He said if I told anyone what I saw, my daughter would disappear. I ran.”
“What happened to me?”
“I don’t know. When I returned after the firefighters arrived, both you and Elena were gone. Later, they announced that your dental records matched the remains.”
Adrian’s voice turned cold. “The dentist who confirmed the records died in a car accident six weeks later.”
A chill moved over my skin.
“So someone falsified them.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew?”
“Not at first. I believed you were dead.”
His voice nearly broke on the final word.
I wanted to hate him. It would have been easier than acknowledging the grief in his face.
“Why is Vivian locked in this room?”
Adrian looked toward her.
“Last year, she contacted me from a private psychiatric clinic in Vermont. She said Julian had kept her drugged and hidden under another name. I brought her here because this estate has the best security I could arrange.”
“The door locks from the outside,” I said.
“It also locks from the inside.”
Vivian lifted a small remote from the bed.
“I opened it tonight.”
“Then why did you scream that someone was going to kill you?”
“Because Mrs. Whitaker told me Julian was coming.”
The room went silent.
Adrian turned toward the door.
“She told you what?”
Vivian’s face had gone pale.
“She came in before the storm. She said Julian knew Madeleine had returned. She said he would finish what he started.”
Adrian opened the door.
Mrs. Whitaker was gone.
He reached for his phone, but there was no signal.
The storm had disabled the security system.
Then headlights appeared through the north-facing windows.
A line of black vehicles approached the manor gates.
Vivian stumbled backward.
“That’s him.”
Adrian moved toward me. “Stay in this room and lock the door.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“For once, do what I ask.”
The command awakened something fierce inside me.
“Perhaps Madeleine obeyed you. Lena doesn’t.”
To my surprise, a faint expression crossed his face.
“She never obeyed me either.”
The front doors opened downstairs.
Male voices filled the entrance hall.
A moment later, someone began climbing the staircase.
Slowly.
Confidently.
Adrian stepped into the corridor as a tall man in a charcoal overcoat appeared beneath the red emergency lights.
He looked older than Adrian, but they had the same dark eyes.
Julian Blackwood smiled when he saw me.
Not with surprise.
With recognition.
“There you are,” he said. “I’ve been searching for my sister-in-law for two very long years.”
Adrian positioned himself between us.
“You’re leaving.”
Julian ignored him.
His gaze stayed on my face.
“Did Adrian tell you why you were running from him on the night of the fire?”
My stomach tightened.
“What are you talking about?”
Julian reached into his coat and removed a small digital recorder.
“Madeleine left a message before the guesthouse burned.”
He pressed a button.
Static crackled.
May you like
Then my own voice came through the speaker.
“If anything happens to me, Adrian Blackwood is responsible.”
