Chapter 1 - The House of Mirrors
Five hours before the accusation, Emily had stood outside Bennett Hall and counted its windows.
She reached sixty-three before a gust of cold wind forced her to give up.
“Do you think anyone lives in all those rooms?” she asked.
Rachel adjusted the collar of Emily’s borrowed blue jacket.
“People like the Bennetts don’t live in rooms,” she said. “They display them.”
Emily considered this seriously.
“Like a museum?”
“Exactly like a museum. So remember the rules.”
“Don’t touch anything.”
“And?”
“Don’t go upstairs.”
“And?”
Emily sighed.
“Stay where Mrs. Bell can see me.”
Rachel smiled despite her nerves.
“That’s my girl.”
Bennett Hall rose before them like a palace built to intimidate the sky. Its white stone walls reflected the last orange light of evening. Long banners bearing the Bennett crest hung between enormous columns. Chauffeured cars moved in a steady line beneath the covered entrance.
Tonight’s event was not merely a party.
It was the public unveiling of the Bennett Rose, a ruby brooch that had belonged to Victor’s grandmother. Newspapers had spent weeks discussing its history. Financial magazines had speculated that Victor intended to sell it to cover debts hidden within Bennett Industries.
Victor denied the rumors.
Rachel did not care whether they were true.
She needed the money from tonight’s catering shift.
Three months earlier, the medical clinic where she worked as a receptionist had reduced her hours. Rent was overdue. Emily needed new school shoes. Their refrigerator had begun making a noise like a trapped insect.
When Mrs. Bell, the elderly housekeeper at Bennett Hall, offered Rachel temporary work, refusing had not been possible.
Bringing Emily had not been part of the plan.
The babysitter canceled at the last moment.
Mrs. Bell had promised Emily could remain in the downstairs staff room with books, sandwiches, and a tablet.
Now, standing beneath the mansion’s glowing windows, Rachel felt a warning she could not explain.
Emily looked up at her.
“Mommy?”
“What?”
“You’re squeezing my hand.”
Rachel loosened her grip.
“Sorry.”
The service entrance was hidden behind the eastern wing. Inside, the mansion felt even larger. Corridors divided into other corridors. Mirrors reflected servants rushing in both directions until it seemed an army of black uniforms was preparing for battle.
Mrs. Bell met them near the kitchen.
She was seventy, small, straight-backed, and sharper than most people half her age.
“You’re late by forty seconds,” she said.
Rachel checked the clock.
“Forty seconds?”
“I have lowered my standards because I like you.”
Emily hugged Mrs. Bell.
Mrs. Bell pretended not to enjoy it.
“The child can stay in the morning room,” she said. “There are fewer knives there than in the staff lounge.”
“Comforting,” Rachel replied.
Mrs. Bell lowered her voice.
“Victor is in one of his moods.”
“When isn’t he?”
“Tonight is different.”
Rachel followed her gaze.
At the far end of the corridor, Victor Bennett stood speaking with the head of security, Marcus Reed. Beside them was Victor’s nephew, Adrian Bennett, a handsome man in his early thirties whose easy smile had appeared on charity posters throughout the city.
Victor handed Marcus a folded piece of paper.
Marcus read it and frowned.
Adrian glanced toward Rachel.
His smile vanished.
Victor noticed his reaction and turned.
For a moment, Victor and Rachel looked directly at one another.
Rachel had met him only twice before, both times during previous events. Yet his expression held something stronger than recognition.
It held alarm.
Victor whispered something to Marcus.
Marcus immediately looked at Emily.
Rachel stepped in front of her daughter.
Mrs. Bell saw it too.
“What was that?” Rachel asked.
“Nothing good.”
Adrian crossed the corridor toward them.
“Rachel Carter,” he said.
Rachel stiffened.
“You remember me?”
“I remember everyone who once worked for this family.”
“I never worked for the Bennetts.”
“No. Your husband did.”
The word husband felt like a door opening onto an empty room.
Daniel Carter had been dead for six years.
Officially, he had died in a car accident on the coastal highway. His vehicle had broken through a barrier and fallen into the sea. Divers recovered pieces of the car, his watch, and blood matching his type.
They never found his body.
Rachel had spent years learning not to hope.
“What do you want?” she asked Adrian.
His friendly expression seemed strained.
“You should take Emily home.”
“I can’t.”
“Then keep her away from the ballroom.”
“Why?”
Before Adrian could answer, Victor called his name.
Adrian stepped back.
“Just do it.”
He walked away.
Emily tugged Rachel’s hand.
“Was he Daddy’s friend?”
Rachel looked down.
“No.”
But the answer came too quickly.
Emily noticed.
She always noticed.
Mrs. Bell led Emily into the morning room. It contained green velvet chairs, tall bookshelves, and a painted ceiling filled with clouds.
Rachel knelt.
“I’ll check on you every thirty minutes.”
“I know.”
“You have my number.”
“I know.”
“Don’t leave with anyone.”
“Not even Mrs. Bell?”
“Mrs. Bell is the exception.”
Mrs. Bell raised an eyebrow.
“A privilege I shall attempt not to abuse.”
Rachel kissed Emily’s forehead.
As she stood, Emily whispered, “Mommy, why did that man look scared of me?”
Rachel looked toward the corridor where Adrian had disappeared.
“I don’t know.”
May you like
But she remembered Victor’s face.
And she knew Adrian had not been the only frightened man in the house.
