Chapter 2 - Ghosts of the Past
The name hung in the damp air of the greenhouse like a loaded weapon. Adeline Vance.
For three years, that name had been locked away in the darkest vault of my memory, spoken only once, in a breathless, fading whisper on the night my wife died. Rosalind had clutched my collar, her skin cold as marble, her eyes wide with a terror I couldn't understand at the time, and begged me to protect someone named Adeline before slipping into eternal silence. Afterward, I searched every registry, every adoption record, every missing persons database in the state. The trail had been scrubbed completely clean, as if the person never existed.
Until tonight.
"Explain," I commanded, my hand instinctively dropping toward the concealed holster beneath my jacket.
Adeline flinched, pulling the newborn closer to her chest. "I didn't mean to trespass on your estate, Mr. Falcone. But when the men who killed my family started hunting me down, this was the only place on earth they wouldn't dare look. Because everyone knows Elias Falcone buried his heart in this greenhouse three years ago."
Her words struck me like a physical blow. She wasn't just a runaway maid; she was a target, and somehow, she had crossed continents to hide in my backyard.
"What do you know about Rosalind?" I asked, stepping closer, ignoring Bernadette's warning glance.
"She wasn't just your wife," Adeline murmured, her voice trembling slightly as she struggled to sit up against the brick wall. "She was my aunt. The only person who tried to get me out before they burned our estate to the ground."
The room seemed to spin. Rosalind had always told me she was an orphan from a small town in upstate New York, with no family left, no ties, no history before the day we met in Manhattan. I had believed her because I loved her, and because in my world, asking too many questions was a luxury few could afford.
"That's a lie," I snarled, though the conviction in my voice was already fracturing. "Rosalind had no family."
"Because your enemies made sure of it," Adeline shot back, a sudden flash of defiance sparking in her storm-gray eyes. "They didn't just target her; they targeted the entire bloodline. My mother died the night Rosalind fled to your arms. And when Rosalind tried to reach out to me three years ago—the very night she died—she wasn't having a heart attack, Elias. Someone poisoned her tea."
Bernadette gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Lord in heaven..."
I felt a cold sweat break out across the back of my neck. The official autopsy report had ruled Rosalind's death a sudden cardiac arrest. The doctor had been a man I trusted, a man whose debts I had paid off years ago. But standing here, looking at the young woman who possessed the exact same fierce spirit, the exact same piercing gaze as my dead wife, the terrifying puzzle pieces began snapping into alignment.
I hadn't been the only one guarding secrets in this mansion. Rosalind had been hiding a secret family, a blood war that had spanned decades, and a betrayal that had followed her right into our bedroom.
"If what you're saying is true," I said, my voice dropping to a lethal whisper, "then how did you get onto this property? My security detail is the best money can buy."
Adeline looked down at the newborn sleeping peacefully against her chest. A bitter, exhausted smile touched her lips. "Because your security doesn't check the storm drains beneath the old rose beds. And I knew about them because Rosalind drew me a map when I was ten years old."
Before I could press her further, a sharp, metallic screech echoed from the main courtyard outside the greenhouse.
May you like
It wasn't the wind.
It was the heavy iron security gate at the front of the estate being pried open by hydraulic cutters.
