Chapter 3 - THE BRACELET IN HER PURSE
Haven stood so quickly her chair scraped backward.
Philippe turned toward her.
Did you understand him?
Yes.
Did you take anything?
Her hands moved sharply.
No.
Then we deal with facts.
Trevor remained in the doorway.
“Bianca is very upset.”
Philippe signed the statement.
Haven replied:
She looked happy enough when everyone was laughing.
He didn't translate that one.
Not because he disagreed.
Because he was watching Trevor.
“Where is the bracelet?”
Trevor gestured toward Haven's purse.
“That's what security would like to establish.”
Philippe looked at the bag on the small table beside Haven.
“Did you search it?”
“Not yet.”
“Good.”
Haven reached for her purse.
Philippe raised one hand.
You don't have to let anyone search your belongings without understanding what's happening.
I know.
She took the bag.
Opened it.
Wallet.
Phone.
Lip balm.
A folded collection notice.
Pearl's handwritten note.
Then her fingers touched something cold.
She froze.
At the bottom lay a sapphire bracelet.
Large blue stones.
Diamond clasp.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
Impossible.
Haven stared.
She had never seen it before.
Trevor's face changed.
Not surprise.
Satisfaction.
There.
A tiny movement at the corner of his mouth.
Haven looked up.
Someone put it there.
Philippe's expression went still.
Trevor stepped forward.
“Well, that settles it.”
“No,” Philippe said.
Trevor stopped.
Philippe signed while speaking.
It settles nothing.
He looked at Haven.
May I see it?
She nodded.
He didn't reach inside her bag.
He waited while she lifted the bracelet out herself.
Then he studied it.
A strange expression crossed his face.
“Where did Bianca say she last wore this?”
Trevor hesitated.
“At dinner.”
“Interesting.”
“Why?”
Philippe held up the bracelet.
“Because Bianca sold the original four years ago.”
Trevor's smile vanished.
Haven blinked.
Philippe continued.
“The stones in this piece are glass.”
Trevor looked toward the doorway.
“You can't know that.”
“I commissioned the replacement.”
Silence.
Haven stared at him.
He turned toward her.
My stepmother lost the real bracelet years ago. I had a replica made because it belonged to her mother and she regretted selling it.
Haven's hands moved.
So she knows it isn't valuable?
Yes.
Then why accuse me?
Philippe didn't answer.
Because he didn't know.
Or because he was beginning to suspect something he didn't want to say.
He placed the bracelet on the desk.
“Call Bianca.”
Trevor remained motionless.
“Now.”
A minute later, Bianca entered the library.
She looked at the bracelet.
Then at Haven.
Her mouth formed a perfect little circle.
“Oh, thank heavens. You found it.”
Philippe didn't move.
“Tell me how much it's worth.”
Bianca blinked.
“What?”
“The bracelet.”
“Philippe, really—”
“How much?”
Her eyes moved toward Trevor.
That was enough for Haven.
She stepped forward and signed.
You know it's a replica.
Philippe translated.
Bianca's mouth tightened.
“Of course I know. But it has sentimental value.”
Then why did Trevor tell everyone it was valuable?
“Because it is valuable to me.”
Haven studied her.
There was a difference between lying and choosing words carefully enough to avoid telling the truth.
Bianca was doing the second.
Haven looked toward the desk.
The bracelet's clasp hung open.
A thin strand of midnight-blue thread clung to it.
The same color as her borrowed dress.
She touched the seam near her hip.
There was a tiny pull in the fabric.
Someone had brushed close enough to catch the bracelet on her dress.
She remembered the waiting room.
A young attendant had offered to take her coat.
Trevor had entered twice.
Bianca hadn't come near her until the ballroom.
Who had access to my purse while I waited? she signed.
Philippe translated.
Bianca shrugged.
“Staff, I suppose.”
“Which staff?” Philippe asked.
“I don't supervise every employee.”
“Then I'll ask the house manager.”
Bianca's face changed.
“Must we turn a family evening into an investigation?”
Philippe looked at her.
“You accused a guest of theft.”
“She isn't exactly a guest.”
Haven felt the insult before Philippe translated it.
She raised one hand.
I am standing right here.
Philippe translated.
Bianca looked at Haven for the first time without smiling.
“Then perhaps you should stop making yourself the center of attention.”
Haven's cheeks burned.
She wanted to leave.
She also wanted to know why someone had gone to so much trouble to humiliate a waitress they'd never met.
Philippe turned toward the doorway.
“Daniel.”
A security officer appeared.
“Sir?”
“Preserve the waiting-room footage. Nobody deletes anything.”
Daniel hesitated.
“There's a problem.”
Philippe's eyes narrowed.
“What problem?”
“The camera in that room was disabled this afternoon.”
Trevor looked toward the floor.
Haven saw it.
A small reaction.
But unmistakable.
Philippe did too.
“Who authorized that?”
Daniel swallowed.
“Mrs. Ferraro's office.”
Bianca straightened.
“Because the decorators needed access.”
“The decorators left yesterday,” Philippe said.
Nobody answered.
Then Haven's phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
Her apartment building in Brooklyn.
Taken that afternoon.
Below it, a message:
TAKE THE MONEY. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT. YOUR FRIEND PEARL IS OLD ENOUGH TO GET HURT.
Haven's blood turned cold.
She showed Philippe.
He read it.
His expression changed.
Not the anger she'd seen in the ballroom.
Something quieter.
More dangerous.
He looked toward Bianca.
“Get out.”
Bianca stared.
“Philippe—”
“Now.”
Trevor stepped forward.
“You can't speak to your stepmother—”
Philippe turned.
“Leave before I discover how much more you've done tonight.”
Trevor stopped.
For the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.
After they left, Philippe faced Haven.
Someone threatened your friend.
She nodded.
Pearl is seventy. She lives above the diner.
Do you want to call her?
Haven immediately typed a message.
Pearl replied within a minute.
I'M FINE. STOP WORRYING. AND DON'T LET RICH PEOPLE MAKE YOU MISS BREAKFAST TOMORROW.
Haven almost cried.
Philippe waited.
She's safe for now, Haven signed.
He nodded.
I can arrange security if she agrees.
Haven studied him.
Why would you do that?
Because someone threatened her after my family invited you here.
That doesn't make you responsible for everything they do.
Philippe looked at her.
Maybe not. But it makes me responsible for what I do next.
For a moment, Haven saw something beyond the expensive suit and dangerous reputation.
A man who understood guilt.
A man who had been carrying it for years.
Then she asked the question that had been growing inside her since Trevor first appeared at the diner.
Why did your stepmother choose me?
Philippe's expression changed.
He looked toward the closed library door.
Then signed slowly.
I don't think she chose you because you're poor.
Haven waited.
And I don't think she chose you because you're Deaf.
A chill moved through her.
Then why?
Philippe looked at her face.
May you like
Really looked.
Because your last name is Hart.
