Chapter 2 - THE SISTER THEY ERASED
For half a second, darkness swallowed the ballroom.
Someone screamed.
A glass shattered.
Then the emergency lights flickered on, bathing the room in an ugly red glow.
I felt my daughter kick hard beneath my ribs.
I pressed a hand against my stomach.
“Easy, sweetheart.”
Evelyn's voice cut through the panic.
“Stay calm. Follow the officers.”
The investigators began directing guests toward the main entrance.
But Conrad Dre moved toward the staircase.
Evelyn stepped in front of him.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped.
“To check the security system.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Move.”
Evelyn didn't.
“Not this time.”
I watched them from beside the fireplace.
Eleven years earlier, Evelyn had been twenty-seven, a gifted architect and the heir apparent to the Dre family's construction empire.
Then she disappeared.
The official story claimed she suffered a mental health crisis and relocated overseas.
Matthias rarely spoke about her.
When I asked, he said she had become unstable.
His mother, Celeste, called Evelyn “a difficult chapter.”
But three weeks earlier, after receiving the threatening envelope, my attorney had traced a reference number printed along the bottom of the document.
It led to an old property file.
And that file contained Evelyn's signature.
Or rather, a forged version of it.
My attorney found the real Evelyn living quietly in Vermont.
She wasn't unstable.
She wasn't missing.
She had spent eleven years trying to expose what her family had done.
And now she was standing in their ballroom.
Outside, snow fell heavily.
Guests hurried toward waiting vehicles.
The police established a perimeter around the estate.
An officer approached me.
“Mrs. Dre, are you experiencing any pain?”
I shook my head.
“Just pressure.”
He looked concerned.
“How far along?”
“Thirty-two weeks.”
“We have medical personnel available.”
“I'm a trauma nurse.”
He nodded.
“Then you know we'd rather be cautious.”
I almost smiled.
He was right.
I allowed a paramedic to check my blood pressure.
It was elevated.
Not surprising.
My husband had arrived with his mistress, his supposedly unstable sister had returned with police, and someone had threatened the house.
It was not an ideal evening for a pregnant woman.
Matthias approached.
“Serena.”
I looked at him.
He seemed furious.
“What did you tell Evelyn?”
“The truth.”
His jaw tightened.
“You have no idea what you're involved in.”
I stared.
“Then explain it.”
He looked toward the police.
“Not here.”
I shook my head.
“No more private conversations.”
His expression changed.
“Serena.”
I stepped back.
“You've had months to tell me the truth.”
He reached toward me.
I moved away.
“Don't.”
For the first time in our marriage, he stopped when I told him to.
Then Evelyn appeared beside us.
“Matthias.”
He turned.
His face hardened.
“You should've stayed away.”
She looked at him.
“And you should've told your wife what happened in the west wing.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?”
Evelyn looked at me.
Then said:
“That's where they kept the original Hensley acquisition records.”
May you like
Matthias went pale.
“And tonight,” she continued, “someone planned to destroy them.”
