Chapter 3 - My Husband's Real Wedding VowsThe basement door opened at dawn.
Theron entered carrying a glass of water and a first-aid kit.
For a moment, he simply looked at Eleanor.
She had spent the night sitting beneath the old staircase, pressing a folded piece of fabric against her ribs. Every breath hurt. Her left eye had swollen, and a thin cut crossed her cheek.
Theron set the kit down.
“Are you going to continue this performance?”
She stared at him.
He sighed.
“Vivienne has agreed not to press charges if you apologize.”
“Apologize for what?”
“For attacking her.”
Eleanor almost laughed.
It would have hurt too much.
“You watched me bleed last night, Theron. What makes you think I would be interested in apologizing to the woman who arranged it?”
His eyes narrowed.
“You are still blaming her.”
“She told me she arranged the fall.”
Theron went very still.
Then he smiled.
It was the smile he used during business negotiations when he believed the other person had revealed a weakness.
“Interesting.”
“You don't believe me?”
“I believe that you are desperate.”
He crouched in front of her.
“Listen carefully. Vivienne is pregnant. The doctors have confirmed it. If anything happens to her or the baby, I will hold you responsible.”
Eleanor looked at his left hand.
His wedding ring was gone.
“When did you take it off?”
He followed her gaze.
“This marriage has been over for months.”
“Then why did you keep sleeping beside me?”
His jaw tightened.
“Because you were my wife.”
“No. Because the Kingsley trust required it.”
For a fraction of a second, his expression changed.
Eleanor saw the answer before he spoke.
Her father's fortune had been placed inside a complex trust when she was a child. Most of the assets had supposedly disappeared after the crash, but several legal instruments remained in force. Theron had once explained that the final transfer required Eleanor to remain married and mentally competent until a specific anniversary.
She had never questioned him.
Now she wished she had.
“What does my trust have to do with our marriage?” she asked.
Theron stood.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
“Does my inheritance become available today?”
His silence was answer enough.
Their seventh wedding anniversary was only three days away.
Eleanor felt something cold settle inside her chest.
“That's why you married me.”
“I married you because I thought you were different.”
“You married me because you needed access to my family's assets.”
“Your family has no assets.”
“Then why are you afraid of the anniversary?”
He reached for the first-aid kit.
“Stop trying to turn everything into a conspiracy.”
She caught his wrist.
“Tell me the truth about the plane.”
He froze.
For several seconds, the only sound between them was the humming of the basement refrigerator.
Then Theron gently removed her hand.
“Your father died in an accident, Eleanor.”
“Vivienne said she arranged it.”
“She says many things.”
“She said you knew.”
His expression hardened.
“Vivienne is a disturbed woman.”
“She is carrying your child.”
“Do not use that against me.”
He stood and walked toward the door.
Eleanor called after him.
“Theron, did your father know my family was on that plane?”
He stopped.
The answer came too late to be anything but a confession.
“Never ask me about that night again.”
Then he left.
The lock turned.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
She had heard enough.
Her husband had not simply betrayed her. He had built an entire marriage around a lie.
At 8:15 a.m., a maid brought breakfast to the basement.
At 9:00 a.m., a nurse arrived to examine Eleanor's injuries.
At 9:30 a.m., Theron instructed the household staff that Mrs. Ashworth was not to leave the mansion until she had recovered.
By noon, Eleanor understood that she was a prisoner.
But she had learned something useful.
Theron was frightened.
He was frightened of her father's plane, the anniversary, and whatever might happen when the Kingsley trust matured.
At 2:40 p.m., the nurse left a glass of water on the table.
Eleanor drank half of it.
Then she asked the maid for a telephone.
“The master has forbidden it,” the girl whispered.
“Then bring me a pen.”
The maid hesitated before placing one beside the glass.
Eleanor wrote a message on the back of a medical receipt.
DESMOND. I KNOW ABOUT THE TRUST. FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS ON OCTOBER 20.
She folded the paper into the empty medicine wrapper.
When the maid returned later, Eleanor asked her to put the wrapper in the kitchen's paper recycling.
It was an absurdly small gamble.
But desperation had taught her that a locked door was not always the strongest barrier in a house.
Sometimes the barrier was simply convincing everyone that the person behind it had stopped fighting.
At 6:15 p.m., Theron came to the basement again.
This time, he brought Vivienne.
She wore an ivory dress and no wrist brace.
“Feeling better, darling?” Vivienne asked.
Eleanor looked at her bare wrist.
“Your injury has healed quickly.”
Vivienne smiled.
“Miracles happen.”
Theron stood near the door, studying Eleanor.
“We have an arrangement to discuss.”
“What arrangement?”
“Your public statement.”
He handed her a typed document.
It claimed that Eleanor had suffered an emotional episode, attacked Vivienne, and injured herself while attempting to flee.
Eleanor stared at the paper.
“You want me to lie.”
“I want you to prevent a scandal.”
“You want me to protect your mistress.”
“I want you to protect this family.”
She slowly raised her eyes.
“What family, Theron? The one that murdered mine?”
Vivienne's smile vanished.
Theron crossed the room so quickly that Eleanor flinched.
He stopped just before reaching her.
For one dreadful second, she thought he would strike her again.
Instead, he leaned down and whispered, “You have no idea what your father did.”
He left the document beside her.
Vivienne followed him, but at the doorway she turned back.
“Ask Desmond why he never told you about the child.”
Eleanor's heart lurched.
“What child?”
Vivienne gave her a small, vicious smile.
“The one who survived the crash.”
Then she walked away.
Eleanor remained motionless.
Her parents were dead.
Her brother was dead.
That was what the official records said.
But if Vivienne was telling the truth, someone had survived.
Someone connected to a crash that had supposedly killed everyone aboard.
Someone Theron knew about.
Someone her father might have spent twenty-six years trying to find.
At that moment, the basement phone rang.
Eleanor stared at it.
The old landline had been disconnected for years.
It rang again.
She reached for the receiver.
A man's voice spoke on the other end.
“Miss Kingsley?”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Chen.”
Eleanor gripped the phone.
“Is Desmond with you?”
“Yes. He is safe.”
She nearly collapsed with relief.
“Mr. Chen, I need you to tell me what happened to my family.”
There was a pause.
Then Chen said something that made every hair on her arms rise.
“Your family is not the only thing your father hid from you.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your husband did not marry you to steal your inheritance.”
Eleanor swallowed.
“Then why did he marry me?”
“To make sure you could never inherit the truth.”
May you like
The line went dead.
And upstairs, someone began screaming.
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