Chapter 1: The Bloody Staircase
My fingers shook so violently that tearing open the second envelope felt like trying to pick up shards of shattered glass.
Inside was not another handwritten note.
It was a thumb drive, cold and metallic, along with a printout of an emergency dispatch log timestamped at 11:42 p.m. on the very night I walked out on Meline.
Attached to the log was a still frame from our penthouse security system.
The image was grainy, yet every single detail struck my chest like a sledgehammer.
Meline was lying curled at the foot of our spiraling marble staircase, her cream-colored maternity dress stained in deep, terrifying crimson.
Standing at the top of the landing, half-cloaked in the shadows of the mezzanine, was a woman wearing a tailored camel-hair coat and carrying a distinct croc-embossed Hermès Kelly bag.
Elena Courtland.
My breath stopped entirely.
My vision tunneled into dark static.
"Mr. Vance?"" the nurse asked gently, placing a hand on my trembling shoulder.
"Do you need a physician?""
"No," I choked out, stumbling toward the doorway.
"No. I need... I need to see what this is.""
I ran out of the hospital suite, ignoring the stares of doctors and orderlies as I sprinted toward the underground parking garage.
My chauffeur, Thomas, straightened immediately.
His eyes widened when he saw my pale, disheveled face and the tiny blue knitted hat clutched in my white-knuckled fist.
"Drive to the office," I commanded.
Thomas stared at me.
"Mr. Vance, you just came from the NICU.""
"Now, Thomas.""
He hesitated for half a second.
Then he opened the rear door.
I climbed inside.
"Don't stop for red lights.""
Thomas looked at me through the rearview mirror.
"Sir, that's—"
"Just drive.""
The door slammed.
The car surged forward.
I barely noticed the city outside.
All I could see was Meline.
Meline at twenty-eight weeks pregnant, standing beside our staircase.
Meline crying.
Meline falling.
And Elena watching.
Inside the privacy of the back seat, I opened my laptop with hands that wouldn't stop trembling.
I inserted the thumb drive.
One file appeared.
*CAM_07B_1128PM.mp4*
I clicked play.
The timestamp read *11:28 p.m.*
The night I abandoned my home.
The night I had convinced myself that Meline had betrayed me.
The night I had refused to answer her calls.
The night I had sat in a private suite at the Plaza Hotel, drinking champagne with Elena.
The footage began.
Meline was pacing the penthouse living room.
Her phone was pressed against her ear.
Her face was wet with tears.
"Damen, please.""
She lowered the phone.
Redialed.
The footage had no sound for the first few seconds, but I didn't need it.
I remembered that night.
I remembered seeing her name flash across my screen.
*MELINE CALLING*
Again.
Again.
Again.
And I remembered turning the phone face down.
Elena had been sitting beside me.
She had touched my wrist and whispered, "If she really loved you, she wouldn't be doing this.""
I had believed her.
God help me.
I had believed her.
On the screen, Meline tried calling again.
Then the penthouse front door clicked open.
Meline spun around.
Relief washed over her face.
"Damen?""
My stomach twisted.
It wasn't me.
Elena stepped inside.
She held a duplicate key fob.
My assistant Bernard was the only person outside our family who had authorization to duplicate access credentials.
Elena closed the door behind her.
Meline stared.
"Elena?""
Elena smiled.
Not the delicate smile I knew.
Not the shy smile she'd used whenever she curled against my chest.
This smile was cold.
"He isn't coming back to you, Meline.""
Meline's expression changed.
"What are you doing here?""
"Collecting what should have been mine years ago.""
"Get out.""
Elena walked across our Persian rug.
"He's with me.""
Meline shook her head.
"You're lying.""
"He was with me an hour ago. He's with me right now. And he'll be with me when your pathetic company shares are transferred to my father's consortium.""
My jaw tightened.
I paused the video.
Thomas glanced back.
"Sir?""
"Keep driving.""
I pressed play.
Meline's voice came through the speakers.
"Damen wouldn't do that.""
Elena laughed.
"Damen doesn't love you.""
She moved closer.
"He thinks you're weak. He thinks you're an anchor dragging down his ambition.""
Meline backed toward the staircase.
"Stop.""
"Do you really think he wants a sick child with a woman he can barely stand to look at?""
Meline's hands immediately went to her stomach.
"Leave.""
"You're embarrassing yourself.""
"Leave!""
Elena took another step.
Meline screamed.
And then Elena shoved her.
Not accidentally.
Not in panic.
Not because Meline had stumbled.
Elena planted both hands against her chest and drove her backward.
Meline's heel slipped.
Her body twisted.
She grabbed for the brass banister.
Her fingers missed.
Then she fell.
One step.
Two.
Three.
The sound of her body striking the marble seemed to last forever.
Seven steps.
Her head slammed against the brass rail.
Then she hit the landing.
Hard.
The camera shook slightly as if even the machine had recoiled.
I stopped breathing.
Meline lay motionless.
Then her hand moved.
Slowly.
Desperately.
She clutched her bleeding abdomen.
Her mouth opened.
No sound came out.
Elena stood above her.
Watching.
Waiting.
She checked her watch.
Then adjusted the collar of her camel-hair coat.
She didn't call 911.
She didn't kneel beside Meline.
She didn't even look frightened.
She simply walked out.
The front door closed.
The video ended.
I stared at the black screen.
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
Thomas's voice came softly from the front.
"Sir?""
I looked down.
The tiny blue hat was still in my hand.
It had been knitted by Meline's mother.
I'd found it in the hospital room beside our daughter's incubator.
Our daughter.
The child Elena had called sick.
The child I'd believed might not even be mine.
My chest collapsed under the weight of it.
"Turn around," I whispered.
Thomas frowned.
"Sir?""
"Take me back to the hospital.""
"We're almost at the office.""
"I said take me back.""
He made a U-turn.
My phone began vibrating.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?""
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
Low.
Careful.
"You watched the video.""
I sat upright.
"Who is this?""
"You have one hour.""
"One hour for what?""
"If Elena finds out that drive exists, your wife won't be the only person she tries to silence.""
My blood went cold.
"Who are you?""
The caller hung up.
I immediately called the number back.
It was disconnected.
Thomas looked at me through the mirror.
"Everything okay?""
I stared at the thumb drive.
"No.""
My voice barely worked.
"Nothing is okay.""
Then my phone vibrated again.
This time, a text appeared.
*DON'T TRUST BERNARD.*
I looked toward the hospital.
And for the first time that night, I realized something terrifying.
May you like
The person who had handed me the evidence hadn't merely shown me what happened to Meline.
They had shown me the beginning.
