Chapter 2 - IN THE DARK

I didn’t wait for permission.

While Margaret and Adrian argued with Vance in the hallway, I slipped out the side door of the event office.

The mansion was still buzzing with the party in the front wing, but the back corridors were empty.

I kept my eyes on the floor.

There was a second muddy print near the entrance to the wine cellars. Then a smudge on the brass handle of the heavy cellar door.

I pushed the door open.

The air instantly dropped ten degrees. The smell of damp earth, oak, and aging wine filled my lungs. The cellar was a labyrinth of stone archways and floor-to-ceiling iron racks holding over forty thousand bottles.

I didn't turn on the overhead lights.

I used my phone, sweeping the beam across the stone floor.

More mud.

Whoever took the laptop came down here.

I moved silently, my rubber-soled serving shoes making no sound. I passed the Bordeaux section. The Burgundies. I was heading toward the estate's private reserve—the locked iron cage where the oldest, most valuable vintages were kept.

The lock on the cage was broken.

The heavy iron door was slightly ajar.

I killed my flashlight and held my breath.

From deep inside the reserve, I heard a scraping sound. Like a loose brick being pulled from a wall.

I crept forward, peering around the corner of a massive oak barrel.

In the dim light of a single emergency bulb, I saw a man's silhouette. He was tall, wearing a heavy canvas coat and boots. He was shoving the laptop into a hollow space behind the wine racks.

He turned slightly.

My blood ran cold.

It was Elias. The estate’s groundskeeper. A man who had worked for Margaret’s husband for forty years. A man who practically raised Adrian.

Why was Elias hiding the evidence of his boss's murder?

Elias pushed the brick back into place, dusting off his hands.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something that made my heart stop.

A small, velvet jewelry box.

He opened it, staring at it in the dim light for a long moment. Then he gently placed it behind a bottle of 1961 Petrus and walked away, disappearing into the shadows of the secondary exit.

I waited until his footsteps faded completely.

Then I rushed to the rack.

I reached behind the priceless bottle of Petrus and pulled out the velvet box.

I snapped it open.

Inside was a delicate gold locket. It was tarnished, incredibly old. I popped the clasp.

There was a tiny photograph inside.

It was Margaret. But she was young, maybe twenty. And she was smiling, her arms wrapped tightly around a man.

It wasn't her murdered husband.

It was Elias.

A folded piece of paper was tucked behind the photograph. I pulled it out. The paper was brittle, yellowed with age.

It was a marriage certificate.

Margaret and Elias. Dated fifty years ago.

Before Margaret married into the Vale empire. Before she became the cold, untouchable matriarch. She was married to the groundskeeper.

"You shouldn't have found that."

I spun around.

Serena was standing in the doorway of the reserve cage.

She wasn't crying anymore. Her eyes were hard, calculating. She held my heavy silver corkscrew in her hand—the one I had dropped in the office.

"Serena?"

"My father didn't kill Adrian's dad, Clara," Serena said quietly, stepping into the cage. "He just found out who did. And he used it to force this merger."

"Who did it?" I demanded.

Serena raised the heavy steel corkscrew.

Then she slammed it against the iron door of the cage, pulling it shut with a deafening clang. The heavy deadbolt slid into place with a sickening click.

"Enjoy the vintage, Clara," she whispered.