Chapter 4 - The Plane That Left Without Her
Mara brought Ethan into her room and closed the door.
“What do you mean she didn’t get on the plane?”
He sat on the edge of her bed, twisting a loose thread on his sleeve.
“The woman in the red coat got on.”
“What woman?”
“The one who smelled like Celeste.”
Mara’s pulse quickened.
“Celeste knew your mother?”
Ethan nodded.
“They were friends before Mommy stopped smiling.”
The newspapers described Celeste Vale as Lillian’s closest childhood friend. She had comforted Adrian after the crash, helped care for the twins and gradually become part of the family.
Their engagement had been announced six months earlier.
“Did you see your mother after the plane left?” Mara asked.
Ethan looked at her as if the question made no sense.
“I see her now.”
“I need you to tell me exactly what you remember.”
He closed his eyes.
“We were at the small airport. Mommy was crying. She gave Noah the wooden airplane. A man came and said Daddy had been hurt.”
“Which man?”
“The one downstairs.”
“Marcus?”
Ethan nodded.
“He told Mommy to come with him. Then the red-coat woman covered her face and got on the plane.”
“How could you see that?”
“I was hiding under the table.”
“Why?”
“Mommy told me to hide if the lights went out.”
Mara felt cold.
“Did the lights go out?”
“For a little while.”
“What happened after Marcus took her?”
“I heard her scream.”
The door suddenly opened.
Adrian stood there.
His expression was unreadable.
“Ethan, go back to bed.”
The boy looked at Mara.
“It’s all right,” she said.
Ethan passed his father without speaking.
Adrian closed the door.
“How much did he tell you?”
Mara rose.
“How much do you know?”
“I know my son has recurring nightmares.”
“He said Lillian never boarded the plane.”
“He was three years old.”
“He remembers Marcus leading her away.”
Adrian’s jaw tightened.
“Marcus was in Manhattan that day.”
“Are you certain?”
“I saw him at the hospital.”
“Why were you in the hospital?”
Adrian looked toward the window.
“I received a message saying the twins had been injured. It was false. By the time I reached the airport, Lillian’s plane had taken off.”
“And crashed?”
“The wreckage was found two days later.”
“Was her body recovered?”
Adrian remained silent.
Mara stepped closer.
“Was it?”
“No.”
“Then why was she declared dead?”
“There was blood in the cabin matching her type. Her wedding ring was found in the wreckage.”
“Blood type is not identification.”
“Dental fragments were later recovered.”
“Did you see the report?”
“My attorneys did.”
“Did you see it?”
His eyes returned to hers.
“No.”
Mara folded her arms.
“You’re a man who verifies every contract, every investment and every employee. But you accepted your wife’s death without seeing the evidence?”
Pain flashed across his face.
“I spent eighteen months proving every possible survival theory false.”
“Maybe someone controlled what you found.”
“You think I haven’t considered that?”
“Did you investigate Celeste?”
Adrian’s expression became dangerous.
“Be careful.”
“Ethan said a woman in a red coat boarded the plane.”
“Celeste was with me in Manhattan.”
“According to whom?”
“According to hundreds of guests at a charity lunch.”
“Did she leave at any point?”
Adrian said nothing.
Mara moved toward the small mirror above her dresser.
“What did Lillian look like?”
“You have seen photographs.”
“Damaged ones. Distant ones. Why are there no clear images of her online?”
“I had them removed after strangers began selling conspiracy stories.”
“Or someone removed them so no one would recognize her.”
Adrian crossed the room.
He stood close enough that Mara could see the sleeplessness beneath his eyes.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“My wife had a tiny gold mark in her left eye,” he said. “Near the lower edge of the iris.”
Mara turned toward the mirror.
Adrian reached past her and switched on the lamp.
There, near the lower edge of her left iris, was a small golden speck.
She had seen it every day of her life.
She had never known it mattered.
Adrian stepped back.
Mara touched the mirror.
“That proves nothing.”
“No,” he said. “But this might.”
He reached beneath his shirt and pulled out a chain.
A silver key hung from it.
The moment Mara saw the key, another memory struck.
A room beneath the mansion.
A steel door.
Her hand placing a document inside a black box.
Adrian saying, If anything happens to me, open it.
She whispered, “The room under the wine cellar.”
Adrian went still.
No staff member knew about the underground room.
No architect’s plan showed it.
Only Adrian and Lillian had access.
“How do you know about that room?”
Mara stared at the key.
“I don’t know.”
“Then come with me.”
They crossed the dark mansion and entered the wine cellar.
Behind a row of vintage bottles, Adrian pressed a hidden switch.
A section of wall moved aside.
A narrow staircase descended underground.
At the bottom stood a steel door with no handle.
Adrian inserted the silver key.
Nothing happened.
“The lock requires a second key,” he said.
Mara reached toward the door.
Without understanding why, she pressed her scarred wrist against a dark glass panel.
A green light appeared.
IDENTITY CONFIRMED.
The steel door opened.
Inside, a computer screen switched on by itself.
A video began playing.
Lillian Hawthorne appeared on the screen.
May you like
Her face was Mara’s face.
“If you are watching this,” the woman said, “then Celeste has already tried to kill me.”
