Chapter 2 - THE COAT IN THE HALLWAY
Daniel didn’t answer. He looked at Cassandra, and she looked toward the oak dining room doors, calculating the exact distance to her escape.
“Answer him,” Aunt Evelyn’s voice cut through the heavy silence. The elderly woman gripped her cane, her knuckles white. “How much of your brother’s legacy have you quietly stolen, Daniel?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened. He finally tore his eyes away from Cassandra and looked at Adrian. “It’s not stealing. It’s securing the future. You’re too soft, Adrian. You give away houses to servants. You freeze investments because of handwritten notes from a dead woman.”
Adrian didn’t yell. His stillness was far more terrifying.
“You tried to evict June,” Adrian said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “You used a charity hospital as a shield to buy my property for pennies.”
Cassandra took a step back, her red gown swishing against the Persian rug. “Adrian, darling, he’s exaggerating. We were just trying to clean up the estate before the wedding—”
“Stop,” Adrian commanded. He didn’t even look at her. “Margaret, bring me Daniel’s coat from the hallway.”
My breath caught. I knew exactly which coat he meant—the heavy camel-hair overcoat Daniel had insisted I hang in the private study, away from the other guests' wraps.
I hurried to the study. My hands shook as I lifted the coat from the brass hook. It was unusually heavy. As I draped it over my arm, something hard shifted in the lining. The inner pocket was unzipped.
I reached inside, expecting a ledger or a contract. Instead, my fingers brushed cold, heavy metal. I pulled it out.
It was a silver rosary. But not just any rosary.
It was Sofia Moretti’s rosary. The one she had supposedly been buried with six years ago.
I walked back into the dining room and placed the coat over the back of an empty chair. I kept my hand closed around the rosary, unsure if I should reveal it in front of fourteen guests.
Adrian searched the coat’s outer pockets and pulled out a sleek leather ledger. He flipped it open, scanning the pages. The color drained from his face.
“It’s not just the cottage,” Adrian whispered. He looked up at Daniel, his eyes dark with betrayal. “You sold the Southside shipping yards. You sold the old bakery. You’re liquidating the family.”
“I’m saving us!” Daniel shouted, slamming his hand on the table. The crystal glasses trembled. “You’re running a business like a charity! The families in New York are circling, Adrian. They see you taking care of old women instead of making ruthless decisions.”
“So you decided to be ruthless for me?”
“I did what had to be done.”
“By selling to Bellweather Development,” Adrian said. “A company you own.”
Cassandra let out a sharp, forced laugh. “Adrian, this is a family matter. We shouldn’t discuss this in front of—”
“You’re right,” Adrian interrupted. He turned to his guests. “Dinner is over. Please see yourselves out.”
Within three minutes, the dining room was empty, save for Adrian, Daniel, Cassandra, Evelyn, June, and me.
June still sat at the table, her hands trembling in her lap. I stepped closer to her, slipping the silver rosary into my apron pocket. I needed to wait for the right moment.
“Why the cottage, Daniel?” Adrian asked, tossing the ledger onto the table. “Of all the properties, why go through the trouble of evicting June tonight? You were desperate to get her out by Monday. Why?”
Daniel crossed his arms. “It’s prime real estate.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
Cassandra stepped forward, her perfectly manicured hand resting on Daniel’s shoulder. It was a subtle gesture, but it changed the power dynamic in the room entirely.
“Tell him, Daniel,” she said softly.
Daniel flinched. He looked at Cassandra not with the eyes of a conspirator, but with the eyes of a man backed into a corner. That was the reversal I didn't see coming. Cassandra wasn't just his accomplice. She was pulling his strings.
“There’s something buried under the floorboards of the cottage,” Daniel confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “Something from before Dad died.”
June let out a sharp gasp.
Adrian turned to the housekeeper. “June? What is he talking about?”
June slowly stood up. Her frail shoulders seemed to carry a sudden, immense weight. She looked at Cassandra, then at Daniel, and finally at me.
“Margaret,” June said, her voice cracking. “Show him what you found in the coat.”
My blood ran cold. How did she know?
Trembling, I reached into my apron and placed the silver rosary on the white tablecloth.
Aunt Evelyn gasped, gripping her chest. “That’s impossible. I placed that in Sofia’s hands in the casket myself.”
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June closed her eyes, tears leaking through her lashes.
“You didn't, Evelyn,” June whispered. “Because the woman we buried in that casket wasn't Sofia.”
