Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Wanted Everything|
The next morning, I arrived at the estate before seven.
I hadn't slept more than two hours.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Walter standing beneath the chandeliers, apologizing for wanting one dance.
And every time I thought about Evelyn's face, I felt a cold knot forming in my stomach.
The kitchen was unusually quiet.
Mrs. Elena Alvarez, the head housekeeper, stood beside the coffee machine.
She had worked for the Santoro family for twenty-two years.
Normally, she greeted everyone with a cheerful complaint about the weather.
That morning, she looked frightened.
“Rachel,” she whispered, “come here.”
I approached her.
“What's wrong?”
She glanced toward the doorway.
“Miss Price has been asking questions about you.”
My heart sank.
“What kind of questions?”
“She wanted to know where you keep your handbag, whether you have debts, and whether anyone has ever accused you of stealing.”
I stared at her.
“Stealing?”
Elena gripped my wrist.
“Be careful.”
Before I could answer, a familiar voice came from the hallway.
“Rachel.”
I turned.
Walter stood there wearing his brown cardigan.
But something was different.
For the first time since I'd met him, his shirt was neatly pressed, his hair had been combed, and he was wearing his father's old gold watch.
Adrian stood beside him.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” Walter said.
I smiled.
“Good morning, Mr. Walt.”
He looked at my belly.
“And how's our Charlotte?”
“She kept me awake half the night.”
Walter chuckled.
“Already stubborn.”
“Runs in the family,” I said.
He laughed so hard that Adrian smiled.
Then Adrian looked toward Elena.
“Could you prepare breakfast for three in the family dining room?”
Elena blinked.
“Three, sir?”
“My father, Rachel, and me.”
I immediately shook my head.
“Oh, Mr. Santoro, I can't.”
“Why not?”
“I'm supposed to be working.”
“You are working,” he replied.
“You've been helping my father, and I'd like to hear what he needs.”
I hesitated.
Walter held out his hand.
“Please, Rachel.”
I couldn't refuse him.
The three of us sat beneath a portrait of Ruth Santoro.
She had kind brown eyes and a mischievous smile.
Walter told me she had hated having her picture painted because she couldn't sit still.
For nearly an hour, we ate pancakes and listened to him talk about his marriage.
Adrian occasionally asked questions.
Sometimes he laughed.
Sometimes he stared at his father as though he were meeting someone he hadn't truly spoken to in years.
Then Walter suddenly became serious.
“Adrian, I want to ask you something.”
“Anything, Dad.”
“Am I becoming foolish?”
Adrian set down his coffee.
“No.”
“Evelyn keeps saying I can't remember things.”
“You do have trouble remembering some things,” Adrian said gently.
Walter nodded.
“I know.”
“But that doesn't mean you should be ignored.”
Walter looked relieved.
“I forget appointments.”
He touched his chest.
“But I remember how people make me feel.”
Adrian reached across the table.
“I know you do.”
A moment later, Niko entered with a visitor.
She was a silver-haired woman carrying a leather briefcase.
“Adrian,” she said, “I'm Lillian Hart.”
Adrian stood and shook her hand.
Lillian was an attorney specializing in elder law, and Adrian had asked her to review Walter's situation independently.
She greeted Walter first.
Not Adrian.
Not Niko.
Walter.
“Mr. Santoro, would you be comfortable speaking with me privately?”
He looked surprised.
“You want to talk to me?”
“Of course.”
He glanced at Adrian.
His son smiled.
“This is your decision, Dad.”
Walter straightened slightly.
“Then yes.”
I watched him walk toward the library with Lillian.
And I realized how rarely anyone had asked Walter what he wanted.
Throughout the morning, Adrian and Niko examined household records.
Employees were interviewed privately.
Several admitted Evelyn had instructed them to avoid discussing Adrian with his father.
Others claimed they had been told Walter was too confused to understand family matters.
One security guard remembered Evelyn ordering the garden doors locked whenever Walter tried to walk near the front of the property.
By lunchtime, Adrian had discovered something even more disturbing.
Evelyn's brother, Julian Price, had been visiting the estate regularly.
He had introduced himself to employees as the family's financial adviser.
And he had asked them to send Walter's important papers directly to Evelyn's office.
Adrian found me in the hallway outside the laundry room.
“Rachel, did you ever meet Julian Price?”
I thought for a moment.
“A tall man with silver glasses?”
“Yes.”
“He came to see Mr. Walt about two weeks ago.”
Adrian's expression sharpened.
“What happened?”
“Mr. Walt seemed upset afterward.”
“Did he tell you why?”
I nodded.
“He said Mr. Price kept asking him to sign papers.”
Adrian said nothing.
“He told Mr. Walt that the papers would help you.”
“What papers?”
“I don't know, sir.”
Adrian looked down.
Then he asked another question.
“Did my father sign them?”
I remembered Walter sitting beside his record player that evening.
He had seemed unusually quiet.
“He told me he signed something because Mr. Price said you might lose the house if he didn't.”
Adrian's face went pale.
At that exact moment, Evelyn appeared at the end of the hallway.
She was wearing a cream-colored designer suit.
Her expression was calm.
Too calm.
“Adrian,” she said sweetly, “Julian is coming this afternoon.”
“Good.”
She smiled.
“I'm glad you're ready to discuss this sensibly.”
Adrian met her eyes.
“I have several questions for him.”
Her smile faltered.
Then her gaze shifted toward me.
“Rachel, why aren't you cleaning the guest rooms?”
Before I could answer, Adrian spoke.
“She was answering my questions.”
Evelyn's eyes flashed.
“Of course she was.”
She walked past us without another word.
I thought the conversation was over.
But ten minutes later, Elena came running into the laundry room.
“Rachel, don't touch your locker.”
I froze.
“Why?”
Her face had turned white.
“Evelyn says her diamond brooch is missing.”
My stomach dropped.
May you like
Elena looked over her shoulder.
“And she says she knows exactly where to find it.”
