Chapter 8 - The First Slice
Paige stared at the projected image as though it belonged to someone else.
“I was never at that hotel.”
The timestamp showed 8:16 p.m. two nights earlier.
Nora remembered that evening. Paige had attended a board dinner in Manhattan and appeared in several photographs posted online.
Daniel checked the photographs.
The board dinner images had been uploaded between seven and ten.
“She could not have been in both cities,” he said.
“Then the hotel image is false,” Paige replied.
Mrs. Bell moved closer to the projection.
“The face may be false. The coat is real.”
Paige looked down.
“You own one like it,” Nora said.
“So do thousands of women.”
“But yours disappeared after the charity gala.”
Paige had complained about the missing cream coat for weeks. She accused the club staff of losing it.
The projector advanced to another image.
A close view of the woman’s hand holding the hotel-room key card.
She wore an emerald ring.
Paige touched her right hand.
The same ring rested on her finger.
“It was my grandmother’s,” she said. “There are no copies.”
Nora examined the image.
“When did you last remove it?”
“I don’t.”
“Not even at the hospital?”
Paige hesitated.
“They asked me to remove my jewelry during the examination.”
“Who collected it?”
“A nurse.”
The person in medical clothing had entered Evelyn’s room and disappeared. Someone could have borrowed Paige’s ring to create or complete the hotel images.
This conspiracy was not simply planned in advance. It was adapting to every movement they made.
The black telephone rang again.
Nora answered.
“Stop hiding behind a distorted voice.”
The caller ignored her.
“The first slice was never intended to harm you.”
“Then what was its purpose?”
“To identify the loyal servant.”
Everyone looked at Mrs. Bell.
“The loyal servant would make sure you received the correct piece,” the voice continued. “The disloyal one would change the seating.”
Mrs. Bell stepped toward the telephone.
“I did not change the seating.”
“No. But you allowed Lillian into the penthouse.”
“I recognized her.”
“And said nothing.”
“I believed she had come to correct the ownership record.”
“You believed what you wanted to believe.”
Nora spoke over them.
“What was in the cake?”
“A tracing compound used in medical research. Unpleasant in the wrong quantity, but rarely dangerous. Evelyn and Paige consumed more because they divided the marked decoration between them.”
Grant closed his eyes.
“You told me it was harmless.”
The caller laughed.
“You knew enough to understand there was a risk.”
Nora looked at him.
That was the core of Grant’s guilt.
Perhaps he had not planned a murder. Perhaps the recording had been edited and the hidden phone planted. But Grant had accepted an unknown substance in his wife’s anniversary cake because he believed it would protect his control of the company.
“You still told me to eat it,” Nora said.
“I thought it would expose who altered the trust.”
“You chose the company over my safety.”
“I was trying to save what our family built.”
“My father built it.”
Grant had no answer.
The steel door slammed shut behind them.
The electronic lock activated.
One officer tried the handle.
The black phone continued speaking.
“In the desk are six envelopes. One for each person in the room.”
Nora opened the drawer.
The envelopes carried their names.
Nora.
Grant.
Paige.
Daniel.
Margaret.
Lillian.
Lillian was not present.
“Where is Lillian?” Nora asked.
“She is on her way.”
“How?”
“Because the police released her nineteen minutes ago.”
Daniel checked his phone.
The information was correct.
Lillian’s attorney had produced evidence showing she had not entered the hospital or handled the contaminated cake. With no basis to detain her further, investigators had allowed her to leave.
“Open your envelopes,” the caller said.
Nora did not move.
“What happens if we refuse?”
“The room remains sealed.”
An officer attempted to contact the club’s security system, but the signal had disappeared.
Nora opened her envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of her birth certificate.
The father’s name was Thomas Reed.
The mother’s name was not the woman who had raised Nora.
It read Celeste Elaine Vale.
Nora read it again.
“No.”
Mrs. Bell closed her eyes.
“You knew,” Nora said.
“I suspected.”
“You told me Celeste was Evelyn’s sister.”
“She was.”
“Then Evelyn is my aunt?”
“Yes.”
“And the woman I knew as my mother?”
“Thomas’s wife raised you after Celeste disappeared.”
Nora’s memories shifted painfully. Her mother had never spoken about Nora’s birth. She claimed the records had been damaged during a hospital fire. Nora had never questioned it.
Grant opened his envelope.
Inside was a DNA report.
It identified no names, only two sample codes and a probability of half-sibling relationship exceeding ninety-nine percent.
Grant’s face became gray.
“What does yours say?” Paige asked.
He handed her the page.
Paige opened her own envelope.
It contained a second report linking her sample to one of Grant’s codes as a full sibling.
“Then the other sample belongs to someone else,” Daniel said.
The caller spoke.
“It belongs to Nora.”
No one moved.
Nora stared at Grant.
“That would mean…”
Mrs. Bell gripped the desk.
“William Ashford and Celeste had a child,” she whispered.
Grant looked physically ill.
“Nora is not William’s daughter.”
The caller laughed again.
“Not Nora.”
The steel door unlocked.
Lillian stood on the other side.
She held the missing black-and-gold cake box.
“Grant is Celeste’s son,” she said.
Evelyn had raised him as her own.
May you like
William Ashford was not his father.
Thomas Reed was.
