Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN IN WHITE|
Ten minutes before the wedding ceremony, Celeste Vaughn had stood in front of a full-length mirror and practiced looking happy.
She had perfected the expression months ago.
The right tilt of the chin. The softening around the eyes. The smile that suggested she had fallen in love with Adrienne Hawthorne for reasons that had nothing to do with his fortune.
In truth, Celeste had never loved him.
She loved what his name could open, what his signature could transfer, and what his death could leave behind.
The distinction mattered.
She had grown up watching her mother lose everything after trusting a man who promised to protect her. Celeste had learned early that affection was a currency, and the person who controlled the money controlled the room.
Adrienne had seemed different at first.
He was wealthy without being vulgar, powerful without needing to announce it. He remembered the names of waiters and sent handwritten notes to people who helped him. He had built Hawthorne Meridian, a technology and logistics company, from a failing warehouse operation into an international business.
He also possessed something Celeste wanted more than money.
He trusted her.
That trust had made the final arrangement possible.
Three weeks earlier, she had signed a set of documents that would allow her to assume control of a private charitable foundation after Adrienne's death. The paperwork had been prepared by a lawyer who had never asked why the transfer needed to be completed before the honeymoon.
Another document, hidden in the bottom of her bridal dressing case, gave Celeste authority over certain assets if Adrienne were declared incapacitated.
The documents were legal.
The circumstances she intended to create were not.
At ten thirty that morning, she had met a man named Victor Sloane beside the private kitchen.
Victor was a former pharmaceutical researcher whose career had ended after an investigation into falsified safety reports. He had spent years selling his expertise to people who preferred their problems to disappear quietly.
Celeste had found him through a financial intermediary.
He had promised her a substance that would be difficult to trace and had explained how little anyone needed to know about it.
She had not asked enough questions.
Or perhaps she had asked exactly the questions she wanted answered.
Victor placed a glass vial in her palm.
“Remember our agreement,” he murmured.
Celeste looked down at the tiny skull printed on the label.
“You said this would be untraceable.”
“I said it would be difficult to identify without a reason to look for it.”
“And there won't be a reason.”
“That depends on you.”
She closed her fingers around the vial.
“By tomorrow, I'll be Mrs. Hawthorne.”
Victor smiled without warmth.
“By tomorrow, you may be a widow.”
The words should have frightened her.
Instead, Celeste felt a strange, weightless calm. She had spent months arranging the wedding, choosing the flowers, approving the guest list, and allowing the public to believe that she and Adrienne were a modern fairy tale.
Nobody would suspect the bride.
Not when she cried at the right moments.
Not when she kissed him in front of the cameras.
Not when she stood beside his coffin with a trembling hand pressed to her heart.
Then a voice sounded behind them.
“Excuse me. I need to replace the flowers.”
Celeste turned.
Marisol Vega stood at the kitchen entrance with a bucket of lilies.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Marisol's eyes traveled from Victor's face to the vial.
Victor slipped his hands into his pockets.
Celeste smiled.
“You startled me.”
“I'm sorry, ma'am.”
Marisol lowered her gaze, but Celeste noticed the tension in her shoulders.
She had seen enough.
The question was how much.
“Did you hear anything?” Celeste asked pleasantly.
Marisol shook her head.
“No, ma'am.”
“Good.”
Celeste stepped closer and adjusted one of the flowers in Marisol's bucket.
“You're a hardworking girl. It would be a shame if a misunderstanding cost you your position.”
Marisol said nothing.
Celeste returned to the dressing room, carrying the vial inside her bouquet case.
She believed the matter was settled.
She believed that a frightened employee would never risk her livelihood to challenge a woman who was about to marry one of the richest men in America.
She had made the same mistake that morning that powerful people made every day.
She had mistaken silence for obedience.
May you like
And she had forgotten that Marisol Vega had already lost almost everything once.
She was not nearly as afraid of losing her job as Celeste imagined.
