Chapter 7 - The Man Everyone Trusted
The fire beneath the chapel was contained without alerting the guests.
Dominic’s security team sealed the underground corridor, removed the injured guard, and placed Victoria in a private holding room on the hotel’s forty-second floor.
Officially, she had not yet arrived at the ball.
No one outside the inner circle knew what had happened.
Dominic wanted to cancel the event.
Margaret refused.
“If Conrad Vale believes we found Elena’s letter, he will disappear.”
“He may already know Victoria failed.”
“Then he will still come to discover how much we know.”
Grace stood near the penthouse windows, looking down at the city.
She had imagined learning the truth about her mother for most of her life.
She had never imagined finding a brother.
Dominic had barely spoken to her since leaving the chapel.
He stood across the room, speaking quietly with his head of security, Lucas Grant.
Lucas was in his late thirties, with close-cropped hair and a pale scar beneath his chin. Unlike the other security officers, he did not seem intimidated by Dominic.
“The recovered camera unit must remain hidden,” Dominic said.
Lucas nodded.
“What about the letter?”
Dominic looked toward the fireplace.
The original letter had been damaged by water during their escape, but most of it remained readable.
“Make copies. Place the original in the vault.”
Grace turned.
“Your vault may already be compromised.”
Dominic met her eyes.
“You think someone inside the hotel is working with them.”
“Someone locked the chapel from outside. Someone disabled the alarms. Someone deleted security footage.”
Lucas spoke.
“I agree with her.”
Dominic’s expression tightened.
Grace noticed that he did not like being challenged, even when the challenge was correct.
Margaret sat near the center of the room while a private nurse examined her wrist.
“We cannot trust anyone who knew Elena,” she said.
“That includes you,” Dominic replied.
Margaret accepted the blow.
“Yes.”
Silence followed.
Grace looked at him.
“You believe she knew you were Elena’s son.”
“I believe everyone has been lying to me.”
“I did not know.”
“You came into my hotel using forged references.”
“To investigate my mother’s death.”
“You removed surveillance equipment from my mother’s wheelchair.”
“It belonged to my mother.”
“You accessed private family documents.”
“My life was inside those documents.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“And now you expect me to believe every word you say?”
“No. I expect you to verify it.”
His face remained cold.
Grace continued.
“Check my birth records. Check Elena’s medical history. Check the hospital bracelet. Check your blood.”
Dominic stared at her.
She saw anger in his eyes.
Not anger at her.
Anger at the possibility that she was right.
Margaret dismissed the nurse.
“Dominic, when you were a child, you had a small mark behind your shoulder.”
He looked at her.
“A crescent.”
“You told me it came from Father.”
“That is what Anthony told me.”
Grace pulled the collar of her uniform slightly aside.
A faint crescent-shaped birthmark rested near her shoulder blade.
Dominic looked away first.
Lucas entered a command into his tablet.
“I can arrange private DNA testing tonight.”
“No,” Dominic said.
Grace’s chest tightened.
Then he added, “Use three separate laboratories.”
The Founders’ Ball began at eight.
At seven forty-five, Grace returned to the staff dressing room.
Her torn uniform had been replaced, but she chose the original one. The repaired cuff matched the figure shown in the staged security recording.
She wanted anyone watching to believe she remained unaware.
The other servers whispered when she entered.
Harold’s dismissal had already become hotel gossip.
A young server named Mia approached.
“Where have you been?”
“Helping upstairs.”
“Harold says you accused him of framing you.”
“Harold isn’t supposed to be in the building.”
“He’s in the ballroom.”
Grace turned.
“What?”
“I saw him near the orchestra platform ten minutes ago.”
Grace found Lucas in the service corridor.
“Harold is still here.”
Lucas spoke into his earpiece.
No one answered.
His eyes narrowed.
“Communications are down.”
The ballroom doors opened.
Guests filled the room in gowns, tuxedos, diamonds, and polished smiles. A string orchestra played beneath crystal chandeliers. Waiters circulated with champagne.
Grace saw Judge Conrad Vale immediately.
He was seventy-one, silver-haired, and respected across the country for his work in medical ethics and charitable law. He had advised presidents. Universities had named buildings after him.
He stood beside the stage, speaking warmly with donors.
When Margaret entered in her wheelchair, Vale crossed the room to greet her.
“My dear Margaret.”
He kissed her hand.
“I feared your health might prevent you from attending.”
Margaret smiled.
“I would not miss tonight.”
Vale looked at Dominic.
“Your father would be proud.”
Dominic’s expression did not change.
“Would he?”
Vale paused.
Then he laughed.
“I see the pressure of the evening has affected your humor.”
His gaze moved to Grace.
For an instant, recognition appeared.
He recovered quickly.
“Have we met?”
Grace held a tray of champagne.
“No, sir.”
“What is your name?”
“Grace.”
“Only Grace?”
“Miller.”
Vale looked at her birthmark, partially visible above the uniform collar.
The glass in his hand stopped halfway to his lips.
Then he smiled.
“Elena’s daughter.”
Grace felt the room narrow around them.
“You knew my mother?”
“She was devoted to Margaret.”
“Were you at our apartment the night she died?”
Vale’s smile remained.
“That is a strange question to ask at a celebration.”
“It has a simple answer.”
Dominic moved beside Grace.
“Answer her.”
Vale looked at him.
“You should be cautious about allowing grief to create conspiracies.”
“Were you there?”
“No.”
Grace remembered the unknown man’s calm voice.
You should have accepted the money, Elena.
Vale’s voice was older now, but the rhythm was the same.
He was lying.
Across the ballroom, Harold Crane watched them.
When Grace met his eyes, he turned and disappeared through a service door.
Grace handed her tray to another server.
“Where are you going?” Dominic asked.
“Harold knows something.”
“Lucas will follow him.”
“Lucas’s communications are down.”
Dominic caught her arm.
“You are not doing this alone.”
Before Grace could respond, Margaret screamed.
They turned.
Victoria Ashford stood over the wheelchair in her fitted red evening dress.
No restraints.
No guards.
May you like
Her hand was raised.
And the ballroom security cameras were already turning away.
