Chapter 1 - THE FLIGHT HE TOOK WITHOUT TELLING HER
“And happy people are automatically kind?”
Clara smiled faintly.
“No.”
Elias leaned back.
“Then stop making excuses for her.”
Nathaniel watched the security feed from Chicago and felt something inside him settle.
Not anger.
Decision.
At 6:42 that evening, he called his pilot.
“Fuel the jet.”
His assistant looked up from across the hotel suite.
“We’re supposed to meet the Sterling board tomorrow morning.”
“Cancel it.”
“They flew in from London.”
“They’ll survive.”
“Sir, is something wrong?”
Nathaniel shut his laptop.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“My wedding.”
Three hours later, his jet lifted from Chicago.
He told no one in Greenwich.
Not Camille.
Not Clara.
Not even Elias.
At 11:36 P.M., Nathaniel entered his own house through the garage.
The mansion was quiet.
He stood in darkness and listened.
Then he heard voices from the upstairs hallway.
Camille.
And a man.
Nathaniel stopped.
A man laughed softly.
“You’re getting careless.”
Camille answered:
“Nathaniel is twelve hundred miles away.”
“Not forever.”
“He’ll marry me Saturday. After that, it won’t matter.”
Nathaniel’s pulse slowed.
He moved toward the staircase.
The male voice continued.
“And the housekeeper?”
Camille scoffed.
“She’s harmless.”
“She watches.”
“She scrubs bathrooms for tuition.”
“That doesn’t make her stupid.”
Nathaniel climbed one step.
Then another.
Camille lowered her voice.
“She doesn’t know anything.”
The man answered:
“She found the study drawer open yesterday.”
Nathaniel froze.
His private study.
Only three people had access.
Him.
Elias.
Camille.
“What was she doing in there?” Camille asked.
“Cleaning.”
“She doesn’t clean Nathaniel’s study.”
“She did yesterday because you sent her.”
A pause.
Then Camille cursed.
Nathaniel’s jaw tightened.
Clara had not entered that room by accident.
Camille had sent her.
Why?
The man said:
“If she saw the blue ledger—”
“She didn’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
Nathaniel moved closer.
Then a floorboard creaked beneath his shoe.
Silence upstairs.
A door opened.
Nathaniel stepped into the light.
Camille appeared at the landing in a silk robe.
Her face drained of color.
“Nathaniel?”
He looked past her.
A man stood behind her.
Tall.
Dark suit.
Nathaniel recognized him immediately.
David Royce.
Camille’s older brother.
Chief financial officer of Vaughn Capital.
The man Nathaniel trusted with every major account.
“What are you doing here?” Camille whispered.
Nathaniel looked at David.
Then at her.
“I came home early.”
David recovered first.
“We were discussing wedding expenses.”
Nathaniel almost smiled.
“At midnight?”
Camille stepped forward.
“You scared me.”
“Good.”
She stopped.
Nathaniel looked toward the hall.
“Where is Clara?”
Camille’s eyes flickered.
“Asleep.”
Nathaniel did not believe her.
He walked past them.
“Nathaniel—”
He ignored her.
Clara’s room was in the staff wing.
The door stood slightly open.
He knocked.
No answer.
He pushed it open.
Empty bed.
Open closet.
One suitcase missing.
On the desk sat a folded note.
Nathaniel picked it up.
Mr. Vaughn, I’m sorry for leaving without notice. I found something I don’t think I was supposed to see. Please check the bottom drawer of your study before Camille does.
Nathaniel read it twice.
Then turned toward David.
David’s face had gone pale.
May you like
And Nathaniel realized Clara had not simply quit.
She had run.
