CHAPTER 9: The Woman in the White Suit
By noon, the mansion no longer looked like a home.
It looked like a crime scene with chandeliers.
Detective Elena Ramirez arrived with two officers, a calm face, and a notebook that made Celeste furious before anyone asked a question. A forensic technician removed the memory card from the camera. Michael Stanton walked in minutes later with a laptop, a sealed evidence bag, and the kind of patience only rich criminals feared.
Celeste refused to sit.
She stood in the center of the salon in her white suit, insisting the entire matter was a family misunderstanding.
Naomi was taken upstairs by Mrs. Delaney and a private nurse. Adrian wanted an ambulance, but Naomi begged him not to let strangers carry her out in front of Celeste. The nurse checked her pulse, cleaned the soup from her skin, and listened for the baby’s heartbeat.
Strong.
When Adrian heard the word, he had to grip the doorframe.
Downstairs, Celeste said, “You have no right to record me in my own house.”
Detective Ramirez looked up. “Your own house?”
Celeste hesitated.
Michael Stanton slid a folder across the table.
“The property is owned by Blackwood Holdings. Mr. Blackwood is sole trustee. You are a resident, not an owner.”
Celeste’s eyes cut toward Adrian.
He did not defend her.
The technician connected the memory card to the laptop. The room filled with the frozen image of Celeste holding the bowl.
Naomi stood in the frame, pregnant, frightened, cornered.
Celeste’s voice came through the speakers.
“You think because you’re pregnant, people will feel sorry for you?”
No one moved.
Then came the throw.
The sound of Naomi’s gasp made Adrian close his eyes.
May you like
Celeste looked away only once.
And that one glance told everyone she knew it was over.
