Chapter 2 - The Velvet Box
The silence in the dining room was so absolute I could hear the crystal chandelier clinking softly above us.
Vivienne Ashford’s perfectly manicured hands gripped the edge of the mahogany table. The color had drained completely from her face.
Elaine Porter didn’t blink. She kept her gaze fixed on Vivienne, waiting for an answer to the question that had just shattered the evening.
Why did you ask to keep Claire from being hired anywhere else?
Marco Santoro slowly turned his head to look at his fiancée.
“Vivienne,” Marco said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made the twenty-four guests freeze in their seats. “Explain.”
Vivienne offered a breathless, brittle laugh. “Marco, darling, it was a misunderstanding. Claire has been so distracted lately. She broke three wine glasses last week. I was simply protecting St. Agnes from a liability.”
“I didn’t break those glasses,” I said, my voice finally finding its strength. “You threw them at the pantry wall because the florist brought white roses instead of cream.”
A collective gasp rippled down the table.
I had spent three years biting my tongue, sweeping up her tantrums, and apologizing for things I hadn’t done just to keep my paycheck. But with my nursing pin heavy and warm on my collar, I was done.
Marco stood up. He didn’t yell. He didn’t slam his fist on the table. He simply picked up his napkin, folded it neatly, and placed it over his untouched plate.
“The dinner is over,” Marco said to the room.
“Marco, you can’t be serious!” Vivienne hissed, reaching for his arm.
He pulled away, his dark eyes devoid of any warmth. “Have your driver take you back to your mother’s estate, Vivienne. We will discuss this when I return.”
Guests immediately began standing, murmuring uncomfortably as they collected their coats. Elaine Porter gave me a small, approving nod before slipping out with the rest.
Within minutes, the grand dining room was empty, leaving only the wreckage of a ruined engagement party.
I picked up the coffee pot, my hands still trembling, and turned toward the kitchen.
“Leave it, Claire.”
I stopped. Marco was standing by the fireplace, staring at a small, dark velvet box resting on the mantle.
“Mr. Santoro, I should clean—”
“You aren’t a maid anymore,” he said, turning to face me. He picked up the velvet box and walked over. “You’re a nurse. And as of tonight, you no longer work for me.”
My stomach dropped. I had stood up for myself, but losing this job before my hospital paychecks started would crush my mother and me.
Marco held out the velvet box.
“I didn’t know she called your hospital, Claire. But I knew she was hiding something about your family.”
I frowned, taking the box. “My family? My mother and I don’t know anyone in your circle.”
“Open it,” he said quietly.
I popped the velvet lid. Inside wasn’t jewelry. It was a heavy, tarnished gold pocket watch. The glass was cracked, and the hands were frozen at 11:42.
I gasped. I recognized that watch from the only photograph I had of my late father. It had gone missing the night he died in a hit-and-run accident twenty years ago.
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“Where did you get this?” I whispered.
“I found it in Vivienne’s private safe this morning,” Marco said, his jaw tightening. “And underneath it was a life insurance policy paid out to her father, signed by yours.”
