Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO RECOGNIZED THE KEY
For one terrible second, Ava thought Niko Moretti would put the key in his pocket and walk away.
Instead, he opened his palm.
The tiny gold object lay against his skin, catching the chandelier light. Its teeth were unusually narrow, its shaft no longer than Ava's little finger. The black rose at its bow had been etched into the metal and filled with dark enamel.
Ava knew that rose.
Her mother used to draw it in the corners of grocery lists. On birthday cards. Sometimes on envelopes while waiting on hold with the electric company.
When Ava was seven, she had asked why.
"Because roses can grow in places nobody thinks to look," Eleanor had answered.
Ava hadn't understood.
Now the most feared man in Chicago was staring at that same flower as though it had reached out of a grave.
"Where did you get this?" Niko asked.
"From my dress, apparently."
"Did your mother sew that hem?"
"Yes."
"Did anyone else work on it?"
Ava shook her head.
"Not until me. I finished the bodice, but I left the original hem alone."
Niko studied the damaged silk.
"Who authorized the search of Miss Monroe's bag?"
The security guard beside the piano bench straightened.
"Miss Whitmore reported a missing auction item, sir."
"And you searched a guest's belongings because someone reported a theft?"
"Mrs. Whitmore's office instructed us to cooperate."
Every eye turned toward Victoria.
She smiled tightly.
"Niko, surely we can discuss this privately."
"We can discuss your instructions here."
Richard stepped forward.
"This is a family matter."
Niko looked at him.
"A woman was publicly stripped, accused of theft, and searched by my employees in front of three hundred people. You lost the privilege of calling it private."
Ava wanted to disappear.
But beneath that impulse, something else began to stir.
For years, Richard had used the phrase family matter whenever he wanted her silence.
When Victoria gave Bianca Eleanor's sewing machine.
Family matter.
When Ava's bedroom became storage for the foundation.
Family matter.
When her sketches appeared in Bianca's portfolio without her name.
Family matter.
Apparently humiliation became private only once someone powerful objected.
Niko turned to the guard.
"Preserve the security footage. All of it. The backstage corridors, ballroom, entrances, and piano bench."
Bianca's face tightened.
"Are you accusing me?"
"I'm asking for evidence."
"You saw the necklace!"
"I saw a necklace inside a bag you handled."
Silence.
Ava looked at Bianca.
Her stepsister's lower lip trembled.
It was a familiar performance.
Bianca had been crying convincingly since she was twelve.
"I'm trying to help her," Bianca whispered.
Niko looked at Ava.
"Do you want the police called?"
She hesitated.
Richard's expression became a warning.
She knew what would happen if she said yes.
Her father would call her ungrateful.
Victoria would tell everyone she was unstable.
Bianca would cry.
And tomorrow, Ava would still have to wake up in the little bedroom above the Whitmore laundry room.
But Niko was waiting.
Not deciding.
Waiting.
"Yes," Ava said.
Richard inhaled sharply.
"Ava."
She didn't look at him.
"Yes. I want the police called."
Niko nodded.
"Then they will be."
Victoria stepped forward.
"That necklace belongs to the foundation. There is no need to create a scandal."
Ava laughed once.
"Now there's a scandal?"
Her voice shook.
"You didn't seem worried when Bianca tore my dress."
Victoria's eyes narrowed.
"Careful."
Niko turned toward her.
"Mrs. Whitmore, I suggest you follow your own advice."
He addressed his security chief.
"Matteo. Have someone escort Miss Monroe to the private lounge. Find her something suitable to wear. And no one touches that dress without her permission."
Ava looked down.
"No."
Niko paused.
"I don't want another dress."
"All right."
"I want this one repaired."
For the first time, his expression softened.
"Then we'll find someone who can repair it."
Ava swallowed.
"I can."
He studied her.
"Of course you can."
That small acknowledgment nearly broke her.
As Matteo guided her toward the exit, Ava heard Richard say:
"You're making a mistake, Carter."
She stopped.
Carter?
Niko's surname was Moretti.
Had her father misspoken?
Niko answered without turning.
"Careful, Richard. You don't want to discuss old names in front of an audience."
Richard's face went gray.
"Especially not tonight."
***
The private lounge was larger than Ava's entire apartment would have been if she'd ever managed to afford one.
Cream sofas. A marble fireplace. Windows overlooking the Chicago River.
Matteo brought a sewing kit and water.
He also placed her clutch on the table.
"The police will want to speak with you."
"I know."
"Mr. Moretti asked me to make sure you're comfortable."
Ava looked at the coat.
"Is he always like that?"
"Like what?"
"Terrifying."
Matteo's mouth twitched.
"Usually more."
That wasn't reassuring.
Ava sat on the sofa.
Her hands shook too badly to thread a needle.
Matteo noticed but didn't comment.
"Your mother was Eleanor Monroe?"
Ava looked up.
"Did you know her?"
"No. But I've heard the name."
"From Niko?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
Matteo glanced toward the door.
"That she was the only person who ever made his grandfather apologize."
Ava stared.
"My mother?"
"Apparently."
The door opened.
Niko entered carrying a leather case.
Matteo left.
Ava watched the door close.
"Am I supposed to be frightened?"
Niko looked at her.
"Are you?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll keep my distance."
He sat opposite her and opened the case.
Inside was an old photograph.
A woman in a pale yellow blouse stood beside an elderly man outside a brick building.
The woman was Eleanor.
Younger than Ava remembered her.
Smiling.
The man beside her had silver hair and eyes like Niko's.
"My grandfather," Niko said. "Alessandro Moretti."
Ava knew the name.
Every Chicago newspaper had covered his funeral eleven years earlier.
"He knew my mother?"
"She worked for him."
"Mom was a seamstress."
"She was also a textile conservator."
"Why didn't she tell me?"
"She may have had reasons."
Ava disliked that answer.
"Everyone keeps saying things like that."
Niko nodded.
"Then I'll be specific."
He held up the key.
"This opens a compartment inside an object my grandfather left behind."
"What object?"
"A nineteenth-century embroidery cabinet."
"Where is it?"
"Missing."
"Then the key is useless."
"Not necessarily."
He turned it over.
"Three months before my grandfather died, he told me Eleanor had protected something inside that cabinet."
"What?"
"Evidence that could destroy a powerful family."
"Which family?"
Niko met her eyes.
"The Whitmores."
Ava stared.
"My mother died when I was nine. My father married Victoria two years later. Are you telling me Mom knew something about them before Victoria became my stepmother?"
"Yes."
"That doesn't make sense."
"Not yet."
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Bianca.
You have no idea what you've done.
Another followed.
Dad says you can't come home.
Ava stared.
For several seconds, she couldn't speak.
Niko read the messages when she showed him.
"Do you have somewhere else to stay?"
She shook her head.
"Friends?"
"Not close enough to ask tonight."
"Money?"
She gave him a tired smile.
"Six months of unpaid work. What do you think?"
Something dangerous moved behind his eyes.
"Unpaid?"
"It's complicated."
"Was there a contract?"
"Bianca said the work would count toward my portfolio."
"And did it?"
Ava thought of the program.
Bianca's name.
Every page.
"No."
Niko stood.
"I'll arrange a hotel room."
"I can't afford this place."
"You won't be charged."
"I don't want charity."
"Then consider it temporary protection while police investigate a crime committed at my event."
"Convenient explanation."
"Also true."
Ava studied him.
"Why are you helping me?"
His gaze dropped to the key.
"Because your mother once protected someone in my family."
"Who?"
"Me."
Ava stopped breathing.
"I was seventeen," he continued.
"What happened?"
"That's a story for another night."
Before she could object, his phone rang.
He listened.
Then his expression hardened.
"What?"
A pause.
"Are you certain?"
He ended the call.
Ava's stomach dropped.
"What happened?"
"Police went to the Whitmore estate."
"Why?"
"To question Bianca."
"And?"
"They found your mother's old workroom."
Ava stared.
"That room was demolished years ago."
"Apparently not."
"And someone was inside when they arrived."
"Who?"
"Your father."
Ava swallowed.
"What was he doing?"
May you like
Niko's answer changed everything.
"Burning your mother's notebooks."
