“Getting the albums,” I said.
“He sent me to the attic.”
Leo’s face tightened.
“He made you go up there alone?
In that dress?”
“It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.
You’re my wife, not his maid.”
I looked at him — really looked at him.
For the first time in a year, something had shifted behind his eyes.
“Leo, we need to talk.
Tonight.
After everyone leaves.”
He studied my face.
“What happened up there?”
“Your mother happened.”
His jaw tightened.
“Don’t.”
“I’m not doing this here.
But I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
“When this party is over, you sit down and you listen.
No interruptions.
No defending him.
Can you do that?”
Leo looked across the room at his father, who was shaking hands with the mayor, all smiles and charm.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
I kept my back straight and my purse close for the next two hours.
Richard floated through the crowd like a king holding court — clapping shoulders, pouring wine for elderly ladies, posing for the society photographer.
But every few minutes, his eyes found mine across the room.
And each time, he smiled.
I was refilling my glass when a woman appeared beside me.
She was in her sixties, silver-haired, with sharp blue eyes and a black dress that was slightly out of fashion.
“You’re Leo’s wife,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I’m Margaret Ashford.
I knew Evelyn.”
My hand froze on the wine bottle.
“You knew his mother?”
Margaret glanced across the room at Richard, then back at me.
“I was her best friend for thirty years.
Until she got sick.
Richard stopped letting me visit.”
“Why?”
“He said Evelyn didn’t want visitors.
But that wasn’t true.
I called her every week until the last month.” She paused.
“Then the phone was disconnected.”
“Margaret, did you know Evelyn left something behind?
A tape?”
Her wine glass trembled in her hand.
“She told me about it.
She said if anything happened to her, the truth would be in that trunk.
I tried to get into the house after the funeral.” She shook her head.
“Richard changed the locks.”
“What truth?”
Margaret looked at me with those sharp blue eyes, and I saw something I recognized — the same fear I’d felt in the attic.
“Evelyn told me Richard wasn’t who he pretended to be.
She said his money — all of it — came from something terrible.
She said she found out too late, and when she tried to leave, he —”
“Margaret.” Richard’s voice cut through the noise like a blade.
He was standing three feet away, smiling at the guests around him, but his eyes were locked on Margaret.
“What a surprise.
I didn’t think you’d come.”
Margaret’s face went white.
“I came every year, Richard.
You stopped sending invitations.”
“Must have been an oversight.” He placed his hand on her shoulder.
She flinched.
“Enjoy the party.”
He walked away.
Margaret exhaled and gripped my arm.
“Be careful,” she whispered.
“He knows.”
She disappeared into the crowd before I could say another word.
The gala ended at midnight.
