Chapter 2 - THE SILVER ROSARY
I didn’t run. Running would have given her time to prepare.
Instead, I walked down the long, carpeted hallway of my own home with a terrifying, absolute clarity. My heart hammered against my ribs like a sledgehammer, but my hands were completely steady.
Hector walked silently two steps behind me.
We reached the arched entrance of the main living room.
Chloe was still standing over my children. Marisol was still positioned between them like a shield.
“You listen to me,” Chloe hissed, taking a step toward Marisol, her voice dripping with venom. “When Alexander gets back on Friday, I am going to tell him that you’ve been stealing from me. I’m going to tell him I caught you going through his private study. You’ll be fired, blacklisted, and deported before the weekend is over.”
Valeria, my brave nine-year-old, stepped out from behind Marisol’s leg.
“That’s a lie!” Valeria cried. “Marisol didn’t do anything!”
Chloe’s hand snapped up, her fingers curling into a vicious claw. “Shut your mouth, you little—”
“Finish that sentence, Chloe.”
My voice echoed through the high-vaulted ceiling.
Chloe froze. The blood drained from her face so fast she looked like a ghost. She turned slowly, her hand dropping to her side.
“Alexander,” she gasped.
She looked at my briefcase. She looked at my suit. She looked at the clock on the mantel.
“What… what are you doing here? Your flight—”
“Was canceled,” I said, stepping fully into the room.
I didn’t look at her. I looked at my daughters.
Sofia’s little face was streaked with tears. She was staring up at the high shelf where Chloe had thrown her stuffed rabbit.
I walked past the woman I was supposed to marry in ninety days. I reached up, grabbed the worn, gray rabbit, and knelt down in front of my six-year-old.
I handed it to her.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I whispered, pulling her into a tight hug. I reached out and pulled Valeria into the embrace as well. My nine-year-old buried her face in my shoulder, her small body trembling.
“Daddy,” Sofia sniffled. “She was mean.”
“I know,” I said softly, kissing the top of her head. “She is never going to speak to you again. I promise.”
I stood up and turned to face Chloe.
The mask was already sliding back into place. Chloe’s face softened into a look of injured innocence.
“Alexander, darling, you misunderstood,” Chloe said, her voice turning sweet and musical. “The girls were misbehaving. And Marisol… Alexander, I have to tell you. I caught Marisol—”
“I saw it, Chloe.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“I didn’t leave,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous register. “I’ve been sitting in the security room for the last forty-five minutes. I watched you scream at my children. I watched you threaten them. I watched you grab my daughter’s wrist.”
Chloe took a step backward. Her eyes darted to Hector, who was standing solidly in the doorway, his face unreadable.
“You… you spied on me?” Chloe asked, trying to summon a tone of righteous indignation.
“It’s my house,” I said flatly. “Pack your bags. Hector will escort you to the gate. The wedding is off.”
I expected her to cry. I expected her to beg.
Instead, a chilling, ugly smile spread across Chloe’s perfectly painted lips.
“No,” she said quietly.
I stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“I’m not going anywhere, Alexander.”
She reached into her expensive designer handbag resting on the sofa. She didn’t pull out her keys. She didn’t pull out her phone.
She pulled out a heavy, tarnished silver rosary.
My breath caught in my throat.
It was my late wife’s rosary. The one Elena had kept on her nightstand for our entire marriage. The one that had mysteriously vanished the day she died in the hospital three years ago.
“Where did you get that?” I demanded, taking a step toward her.
Chloe held it up, the silver beads catching the afternoon light.
“You think I’m just a woman you met at a charity gala, Alexander?” Chloe laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “You think you know everything about the people living under your roof?”
She turned her gaze away from me, locking her cold eyes onto the housekeeper.
“Tell him, Marisol,” Chloe sneered. “Tell him whose rosary this really is. Tell him why you’re really in this house.”
I turned to look at Marisol.
The housekeeper was completely pale. Her hands were shaking. She wasn’t looking at Chloe. She was staring at the silver beads with absolute terror.
“Marisol?” I asked, my voice wavering. “What is she talking about?”
May you like
Chloe smiled, dropping the rosary back into her purse.
“Ask her, Alexander. Ask her what happened the night Elena died. Because if you throw me out of this house, I’m going to the police. And your precious housekeeper is going to prison for murder.”
