Chapter 4 - Margaret’s Warning
Grace should have left the city that night.
Instead, she went to work the next morning.
Fear told her where the danger was.
She had spent years deciding what to do after seeing it.
Margaret was waiting in the conservatory.
This time, there were no orchids on the table. A large leather book lay open across her lap.
Grace approached cautiously.
“You sent the invitation?”
Margaret looked genuinely confused.
“What invitation?”
“The one delivered to my apartment.”
“I do not know where you live.”
Grace studied her face.
“Victoria knows about the camera.”
Margaret’s hand stiffened.
“Then you must leave.”
“I need answers.”
“You need to survive.”
“My mother died because no one believed her.”
“Your mother died because I was a coward.”
The confession silenced Grace.
Margaret closed the leather book.
“I knew something was wrong with my foundation accounts. Elena showed me records I had never signed. Millions were being moved through charitable medical programs into private companies.”
“Victoria’s companies?”
“Some of them. Others belonged to men whose names never appeared in public.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“I tried.”
“What happened?”
“The detective assigned to the case visited me privately. He told me there was no evidence and warned me that Dominic would be destroyed if I continued making accusations.”
“Dominic was involved?”
“No. He was nineteen.”
Margaret looked toward the fountain.
“He had just lost his father.”
Grace sat beside her.
“What did my mother mean about the wrong mother signing the papers?”
Margaret’s expression closed.
“That question will put you in greater danger than the missing money.”
“It has already put me here.”
“Some truths do not set people free.”
“Then what do they do?”
“They reveal the prison.”
Grace pulled the photograph from her pocket and placed it on the table.
Margaret stared at it.
“You were holding a baby.”
“Yes.”
“Who was the child?”
Margaret did not answer.
“Was it Dominic?”
“No.”
Grace felt the room tilt.
“Then who?”
Margaret’s eyes moved toward the security guard again.
“This hotel was built over the remains of the original DeLuca residence. My husband’s grandfather, Salvatore DeLuca, arrived in America under a different surname.”
“The first DeLuca lost his name.”
Margaret looked at her sharply.
“Where did you hear that?”
“From my mother.”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“The old foundation stone is beneath the hotel chapel.”
“There is a chapel?”
“Closed for renovation.”
“What will I find there?”
“I do not know. Elena never told me where she hid the complete records. She believed that anyone who knew the location would be forced to reveal it.”
Grace lowered her voice.
“What happened the night she died?”
Margaret’s face collapsed with grief.
“She called me. She said she had proof of something worse than theft. She begged me to take Dominic and leave the country.”
“Did she say why?”
“She said the family had been built around a stolen child.”
Grace looked down at the photograph.
“The baby.”
“Yes.”
“Who was the mother?”
Before Margaret could respond, Dominic entered the conservatory.
He wore a dark business suit and carried a phone in one hand.
“Mother, you missed your physical therapy appointment.”
Margaret immediately closed the book.
Dominic noticed Grace.
“You are staff.”
“Yes, Mr. DeLuca.”
“Then why are you sitting with my mother?”
Margaret answered.
“Because I asked her to.”
Dominic looked between them.
“Have you met before?”
“Grace serves my tea.”
“Grace?”
His gaze narrowed.
“Miller,” he said.
Grace stood.
“Yes.”
Something passed through his expression.
Recognition, perhaps.
Or suspicion.
“You were hired recently.”
“Three weeks ago.”
Dominic walked closer.
“My head of security says someone entered the restricted elevator corridor two nights ago.”
Grace forced herself not to react.
“I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“No?”
“No.”
Margaret interrupted.
“Dominic, stop questioning her.”
“I am responsible for your safety.”
“Then you have been failing for years.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
Margaret turned her wheelchair toward the window.
“Leave us.”
Grace expected him to refuse.
Instead, Dominic placed a hand on the back of Margaret’s chair.
“The Founders’ Ball is tomorrow. Victoria has invited several members of the foundation board.”
“I know.”
“You agreed to announce the new medical center.”
“I have changed my mind.”
“Contracts have been signed.”
“With whose signature?”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Yours.”
Margaret looked up at him.
“Are you certain?”
He stared at her.
Grace saw the first fracture in his confidence.
“What are you suggesting?”
Margaret reached for the leather book.
Inside was a copy of a foundation approval document.
She handed it to Dominic.
“This is not my signature.”
Dominic examined it.
“It has been notarized.”
“By a notary who died seven months before the document was signed.”
Dominic looked toward Grace.
“Where did you get this?”
Margaret answered.
“Elena gave it to me.”
Dominic froze.
“My mother has been dead for eleven years,” Grace said.
Dominic’s gaze locked onto hers.
“Your mother was Elena Miller?”
“Yes.”
He took one slow step backward.
Margaret watched him carefully.
“What is it?”
Dominic said nothing.
“What did you remember?” she asked.
His face had gone pale.
“When I was nineteen, Elena came to my father’s funeral.”
Grace waited.
“She gave me a sealed envelope and told me not to open it until I was certain my mother was safe.”
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“Where is it now?”
Dominic looked toward the ballroom wing.
“In the hotel vault.”
Margaret gripped the armrest.
“Get it.”
Dominic turned to leave.
The conservatory doors opened before he reached them.
Victoria entered with Harold Crane and two security officers.
She held Grace’s silver key in her gloved hand.
“Looking for this?”
Grace’s blood ran cold.
May you like
Victoria smiled.
“It seems our little waitress has been searching rooms that do not belong to her.”
