Chapter 3 - The Coat PocketAlexander ordered everyone out except Grace, Eleanor, and Nathan Vale, the family lawyer who had arrived twenty minutes after Alexander landed.
Eleanor protested.
Alexander did not answer.
That frightened her more than shouting would have.
The guards left the room. Victoria lingered until Alexander looked at her, then followed the others into the hall.
Grace remained by the fireplace.
The bracelet lay on the table between them like a sleeping snake.
Nathan Vale put on reading glasses and examined the clasp. “This is from Lady Eleanor’s private collection.”
“Of course it is,” Eleanor said. “That is why it matters.”
Alexander watched Grace’s face.
She was not watching the bracelet.
She was watching the doorway, as if expecting someone to come back and finish what had been started.
“Who had access to your coat?” Alexander asked.
Grace answered carefully. “Anyone. Staff coats are kept in the service corridor.”
“Was it locked?”
“No.”
Eleanor laughed softly. “How convenient.”
Grace’s chin lifted. “I did not steal from you.”
“You expect us to believe diamonds walked into your pocket by themselves?”
“No,” Grace said. “I expect Mr. Whitmore to check the camera.”
Eleanor went still.
Alexander turned.
“What camera?”
Grace looked at him then, and something in her expression told him this was the sentence she had been punished for knowing.
“The service corridor camera,” she said. “The one Mrs. Hale told me was broken.”
Nathan made a note.
Eleanor’s hand tightened around her pearls. “This is absurd.”
Alexander took out his phone. “I want the full security archive from the service corridor. Today. Noon to six.”
Eleanor snapped, “You cannot be serious.”
“I have never been more serious.”
Five minutes later, the head of security called.
The service corridor footage was missing.
Not corrupted.
Missing.
Deleted between 4:12 and 4:19 p.m.
Nathan looked up slowly.
“That is quite specific.”
Grace closed her eyes.
Alexander saw the tremor pass through her body.
This was not surprise.
This was confirmation.
“You expected that,” he said.
Grace opened her eyes. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because this is not the first time evidence disappeared in this house.”
Eleanor stood. “Enough.”
Alexander’s voice dropped. “Sit down.”
His mother froze.
For the first time in his life, Eleanor Whitmore looked at her son and realized he was no longer a grieving boy waiting for instructions.
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He was a father.
And someone had come after his children.
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