Chapter 3
Margaret’s gaze moved between them.
“We should sit down. Dinner is ready.”
The dining room table had been arranged for eight.
I recognized the silverware, the crystal glasses, the porcelain plates with the Russo crest. My place had once been at Alexander’s right hand. Tonight, that chair was empty.
Ethan pulled it out for me.
I paused.
He looked up. “What?”
“Nothing.”
I sat.
He took the chair beside me instead of his usual place across from his grandmother. Alexander sat at the head of the table. Margaret settled opposite us. Rebecca chose the seat nearest the window.
Two other people were already there: Alexander’s younger sister, Clara, and her husband, Matteo. Clara rose immediately and crossed the room.
Unlike the others, she didn’t stop to measure the moment.
She hugged me.
I stiffened before I could stop myself.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have come to see you.”
“You should have.”
She stepped back, accepting the answer without protest.
“I was twenty-one,” she said. “I thought if I questioned the family, I would lose everyone.”
“And did you?”
Her eyes moved to Alexander.
“Not in the way I expected.”
Matteo gave me a brief nod. “It’s good to meet you again.”
“Again?”
“We met once,” Clara explained. “At the winter charity auction, before Ethan was born. You wore a red dress and spilled champagne on a senator.”
I remembered.
“He deserved it.”
Matteo smiled. “I thought so too.”
The small exchange loosened something in the room.
Dinner began with soup, then roasted vegetables and a glazed ham none of us seemed hungry enough to eat. Conversation moved carefully around harmless subjects: the weather, the hotel renovations, Clara’s children, a charity project Margaret had funded.
Ethan kept glancing at me.
Finally, he leaned closer.
“Do you still embroider?”
“Yes.”
“What do you make?”
“Mostly ornaments. Birds, stars, trees. Sometimes initials.”
“Did you make the one you brought?”
I looked at him.
“How did you know I brought one?”
His cheeks colored.
“I saw the bag.”
I had forgotten the ornament tucked beneath the evidence files.
“I did.”
“Could I see it?”
“After dinner.”
His smile was small but genuine.
Across the table, Rebecca watched us.
When our eyes met, she looked away.
I set my fork down.
“Rebecca.”
Her head lifted.
“Why did you tell them I tried to hurt you?”
The room went silent.
Alexander’s hand tightened around his glass.