Chapter 1 - The Study Where Trust Went To DieThe First Lie"Start at the beginning."
Clara sat opposite Adrien Valente with her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
Outside the study windows, snow covered the black iron gates and the stone lions guarding the estate. The mansion looked beautiful from there.
It also looked like a prison.
She took a breath.
"I saw the silver angel at five o'clock."
Adrien stood behind his desk, one hand resting beside the velvet case.
"Who else saw it?"
"Maria. Two decorators. One of the kitchen staff."
"Names."
She gave them to him.
He listened without interrupting.
Clara explained how she had checked the angel against the inventory sheet, placed the case on the preparation table, and then left to supervise the dining room.
"When I came back, it was gone."
"And your bag?"
"Was under the table in the ballroom."
Adrien's eyes narrowed.
"You are certain?"
"Yes."
"You didn't leave the ballroom?"
"Not for more than a few minutes at a time."
He studied her face.
Clara resisted the urge to look away.
She had dealt with rich clients before. They complained about flowers and silverware and whether napkins looked expensive enough. Adrien Valente was examining her as though her pulse might confess something her mouth would not.
Finally he asked, "Why would someone frame you?"
"I don't know."
"Who benefits?"
"I don't know."
"You have worked here for sixteen days. You asked questions about security. Delivery entrances. Private rooms."
"Because I'm an event coordinator."
"That is one explanation."
She felt anger rising beneath her fear.
"Then tell me what the other explanation is."
Adrien leaned forward.
"Someone has been stealing information from this house for months."
Her anger vanished.
"What kind of information?"
"Shipping schedules. Banking documents. Names."
Clara stared at him.
"You think I'm a spy."
"I think somebody wants you to look like one."
The answer caught her off guard.
Before she could respond, Adrien's phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
Something in his expression changed.
"Interesting."
"What?"
He turned the phone toward her.
A security alert showed that the preparation-room camera had stopped recording for exactly eight minutes.
Five minutes before the silver angel disappeared.
Clara's stomach dropped.
"That wasn't me."
"I know."
She blinked.
"You know?"
Adrien's gaze moved toward the door.
"Because only three people knew how to disable that camera."
"Who?"
"Me."
A pause.
"Marco."
Another pause.
"And Luca."
Clara's voice weakened.
"So one of your three most trusted men is lying."
Adrien looked at her for several seconds.
"No."
He closed the camera footage.
"One of them is pretending to be trustworthy."
A knock sounded.
Adrien didn't answer.
The door opened anyway.
Marco entered.
"The first guests are arriving."
Adrien didn't look at him.
"Close the door."
Marco did.
Adrien held up the velvet case.
"Tell me why this was inside her bag."
Marco's eyes flicked toward Clara.
"Because she put it there."
Adrien's voice remained calm.
"That's your conclusion?"
"The evidence is obvious."
"No."
Adrien opened the case.
"The evidence is convenient."
Marco's expression hardened.
"I ran this family while you were overseas."
"And now you're reminding me."
"I'm reminding you that I know how these operations work."
Adrien finally looked at him.
"So do I."
Silence.
Then Adrien slid the silver angel across the desk.
"Where were you between five and five-ten?"
Marco didn't move.
"Handling security."
"Where?"
"West corridor."
"Who saw you?"
Marco said nothing.
Clara watched his jaw tighten.
For the first time, she realized something terrifying.
Marco was not afraid of being accused.
He was afraid of what Adrien might discover.
Adrien seemed to notice it too.
"Leave."
Marco stared at him.
"Adrien."
"Leave."
Marco turned and walked out.
Clara exhaled.
Adrien looked at her.
"Your name won't leave this room tonight."
"Why?"
"Because whoever planted that angel wants you frightened."
He stepped around the desk.
"And frightened people make predictable mistakes."
Clara stood.
"So what do I do?"
Adrien reached for the study door.
"You stay where I can see you."
She frowned.
"That's supposed to make me feel better?"
"No."
He opened the door.
"It's supposed to keep you alive."
They stepped into the ballroom.
The first guests were arriving.
Music began.
Champagne flowed.
Lights glittered.
And beneath the Christmas tree, hidden among the presents and ribbons, someone had placed another package.
May you like
No one noticed it.
Not until the timer inside began counting down.
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