. CHAPTER 4 — The Mother-in-Law’s Smile
Vivian Westford recovered quickly. People like her always did.
She lifted one hand, and two private security guards near the door straightened. “Remove that girl,” she said. “This is a wedding, not a circus.”
Nora flinched at the word remove.
Clara stood up. “No one touches her.”
Preston stepped between them, his face tight with panic disguised as concern. “Clara, darling, emotions are high. Let my staff handle this.”
“Your staff?” Clara repeated.
He lowered his voice. “This is humiliating my family.”
Clara looked around the ballroom. The guests who had smiled at her moments earlier now watched like hungry spectators. Her father, Thomas Hale, sat in the front row, one hand on his cane, his expression carved from shock. He had aged ten years since Clara opened the locket.
“Dad,” Clara called.
Thomas rose slowly. “Let the girl speak.”
Vivian’s eyes sharpened. “Thomas, don’t be naive. You’ve been grieving for nineteen years. Anyone could exploit that.”
Nora clutched the locket. “I’m not trying to take anything. I can leave.”
“No,” Clara said immediately.
But Vivian seized on the fear. “Yes. Leave. That is the first intelligent thing you’ve said.”
Something in Clara snapped.
She turned to the nearest camera operator. “Keep filming.”
Preston grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”
Clara pulled free. “Finding out why your mother is terrified of a waitress.”
Vivian laughed, but it sounded brittle. “Terrified? Of her?”
Clara stepped closer, close enough to see powder trapped in the lines around Vivian’s mouth. “You knew my mother.”
The ballroom became silent again.
Vivian’s eyes flicked toward Thomas Hale.
There it was. A mistake. Tiny, but enough.
Clara said, “When Lily disappeared, my father offered a ten-million-dollar reward. The newspapers printed her photo for a year. If Nora were only a stranger with a copied locket, you would be amused. But you’re not amused. You’re scared.”
Vivian’s smile returned, colder than before. “I am scared for my son. He is about to marry a woman who would destroy a wedding over a servant’s sob story.”
Nora whispered, “I didn’t want trouble.”
May you like
Clara took her hand.
“No,” she said. “Trouble wanted you silent.”
