Chapter 1 - The Woman in Red
Three months earlier, Celeste Laurent entered Vale Estate for the first time wearing red.
The dress was elegant, expensive, and carefully chosen to make every person in the room notice her. She walked beside Adrian through the marble entrance hall as though the house already belonged to her.
Portraits of the Vale family lined the walls. The oldest showed shipbuilders, factory owners, military officers, and nurses. The newest showed Adrian standing beside his grandfather, Edmund Vale, at the opening of a children’s hospital.
Celeste paused in front of that photograph.
“So that is the famous Edmund Vale,” she said.
Adrian smiled. “My grandfather dislikes being called famous.”
“He owns half the city.”
“He would say that he is responsible for half the city. He sees ownership differently.”
Celeste tilted her head.
She had met Adrian nine months earlier at a charity auction in Manhattan. He was reserved, intelligent, and heir to one of the country’s oldest private industrial companies. Unlike the wealthy men Celeste usually encountered, he did not advertise his power.
That had made him interesting.
His fortune had made him essential.
The Laurent family still appeared prosperous in newspapers and society photographs, but appearances were all they had left. Celeste’s father had borrowed heavily against the family’s hotels. Her mother had sold several properties without telling their friends. Creditors were beginning to call.
A marriage between Celeste and Adrian could repair everything.
Adrian, however, knew none of this.
He believed Celeste loved old books, quiet dinners, and charitable causes. She had made certain he saw her volunteering at hospital events. She spoke warmly to donors, remembered the names of their children, and smiled beautifully whenever a camera appeared.
She understood the importance of performance.
As they walked through the estate, a young maid approached with a tray of champagne. The maid’s hand shook slightly, and one glass tilted.
A drop landed near Celeste’s wrist.
Celeste’s smile vanished.
“Be careful.”
“I’m very sorry, ma’am,” the maid whispered.
Adrian took a napkin and gently dried Celeste’s hand.
“It’s only champagne.”
Celeste recovered instantly.
“Of course. I was just surprised.”
She smiled at the maid.
“Don’t worry about it.”
The maid thanked her and hurried away.
Adrian did not notice the look Celeste gave the woman once his back was turned.
But someone else did.
At the far end of the hall, Edmund Vale stood beside the library doors.
He had watched the entire exchange.
Edmund was seventy-three, though he looked stronger than many men twenty years younger. His silver hair was neatly combed, his dark suit simple, and his expression unreadable.
Celeste approached him with both hands extended.
“Mr. Vale, it is such an honor.”
Edmund accepted one of her hands.
“Welcome to the estate.”
“I have heard so much about your work.”
“From Adrian?”
“From everyone.”
“That usually means you have heard more fiction than truth.”
Celeste laughed exactly when she thought she was supposed to.
Edmund looked at his grandson.
“Would you ask the chef to join us for a moment? I want to discuss tonight’s menu.”
When Adrian left, Celeste and Edmund stood alone beneath the portraits.
“You care for him?” Edmund asked.
“Very much.”
“And if Adrian had no inheritance?”
Celeste’s smile remained steady.
“I would love him exactly the same.”
Edmund studied her for several silent seconds.
Most people became uncomfortable beneath his gaze.
Celeste did not.
She had spent her life learning to look sincere.
At last, Edmund nodded.
“Then perhaps you will be good for him.”
Celeste smiled more warmly.
“I intend to be.”
That evening, however, Edmund called the young maid into his library.
“What happened with the champagne?” he asked.
The maid hesitated.
“Nothing, sir.”
“You will never be punished for telling me the truth.”
The maid looked toward the closed doors.
“She told me that if I embarrassed her again, she would make certain I never worked at another respectable house.”
Edmund leaned back in his chair.
“Did Adrian hear her?”
“No, sir.”
May you like
Edmund looked toward the window, where Celeste stood laughing beside his grandson beneath the garden lights.
“Of course he didn’t.”
