Chapter 1: The Chest Beneath the Staircase
“I don’t care if you’re pregnant. Move that suitcase.””
Those were the first words Victoria Sterling said that afternoon, and they were directed at a woman who was carrying her child.
The woman in the maid's uniform stood beneath the grand staircase of the Sterling mansion, one hand pressed against her swollen belly and the other resting against an enormous antique wooden chest.
She was eight months pregnant.
The chest looked as though it had been sitting in the mansion for generations. Its dark oak surface was scratched, its brass corners were tarnished, and a thick layer of dust covered its lid. It was so heavy that even two strong men would have struggled to move it.
But Victoria didn't care.
She stood several feet away in a red evening gown, her diamond earrings catching the chandelier light. Her perfectly styled hair framed a face accustomed to being obeyed.
“Did you hear me, Grace?”” Victoria demanded.
Grace swallowed.
“Yes, ma'am. I'm trying.””
“Then try harder.””
Grace placed both hands against the chest and pushed.
Nothing happened.
She adjusted her footing and tried again. Her shoes slipped slightly against the polished marble.
A sharp pain tightened across her lower abdomen.
Grace immediately stopped.
“Please,” she whispered, breathing unevenly.
“It's too heavy. My baby... ah!””
She slowly lowered herself onto the bottom staircase, one hand protecting her stomach.
Victoria rolled her eyes.
“Honestly. Every little thing becomes a medical emergency with you.””
Grace looked down, embarrassed.
“I'm sorry, ma'am.””
“You should be. You're being paid to work, not sit around.””
Before Victoria could continue, a man's voice interrupted her.
“That's enough.””
Both women turned.
Vincent Sterling stood at the entrance to the foyer.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. Dark tattoos extended from beneath his cuffs toward his wrists. His expression was usually unreadable, but there was something unmistakably protective in the way his eyes moved immediately toward Grace.
He had returned home earlier than expected.
And he had heard everything.
“Grace, are you okay?”” Vincent asked.
The maid nodded, although her fingers were trembling.
“I'm okay, Mr. Sterling.””
Vincent approached her.
“Don't get up yet.””
He glanced at the enormous chest.
Then he looked at Victoria.
“Who made her carry this?””
Victoria's expression changed almost instantly.
“Vincent, darling, it's just some old clothes.””
“Old clothes?””
“Yes. I wanted it moved before tonight's dinner.””
Vincent didn't answer.
He crouched beside Grace.
“Did you hurt yourself?””
“I don't think so, sir. I just felt a sharp pain when I pushed.””
“Then we're getting the doctor to check you.””
“Please, sir. I don't want to cause trouble.””
“You're not causing trouble.””
He turned toward the hallway.
“Maria!””
The housekeeper appeared almost immediately.
“Yes, Mr. Sterling?””
“Bring Grace some water. Then call Dr. Harris. Tell him I want him here as soon as possible.””
Victoria folded her arms.
“Vincent, you're making a spectacle over nothing.””
He ignored her.
Maria helped Grace settle comfortably against the staircase while Vincent turned back toward the chest.
Something about it bothered him.
It wasn't simply the size.
It was the fact that Victoria had become unusually nervous since he entered the room.
He had known Victoria for six years. She was confident, calculating, and almost impossible to intimidate.
But now she was watching the chest instead of him.
Vincent moved closer.
The brass plate attached to the front caught the light.
He wiped away a thin layer of dust with his thumb.
Two engraved letters appeared.
E.M.
Vincent froze.
For several seconds, the mansion seemed to go completely silent.
His jaw tightened.
“No.””
Victoria took one step forward.
“Vincent?””
He stared at the initials.
“Where did you get this?””
Victoria laughed nervously.
“I told you. It's an old chest.””
Vincent ran his fingers over the engraved letters.
E.M.
Elena Morgan.
His wife.
The woman whose funeral he had attended three years earlier.
The woman whose wedding ring he still kept in his bedroom.
The woman whose death had destroyed the last part of him that knew how to trust anyone.
He slowly stood.
“This belonged to Elena.””
Victoria's face lost its color.
“Vincent, don't be ridiculous.””
He turned toward her.
“I know my wife's initials.””
“Lots of people have those initials.””
“Not with that engraving.””
He leaned closer to examine the metal plate.
He remembered it now.
Elena had once shown him the chest in an old photograph. It belonged to her grandmother, and she had told him that it contained the most important things her family had ever owned.
He had never seen it in person.
When Elena died, the police told him her belongings had been destroyed in the fire that supposedly took her life.
So why was her chest sitting in his foyer?
Victoria reached toward him.
“Vincent, please! Don't open it!””
Her hand stopped inches from his arm.
He looked at her fingers.
Then at her face.
His voice dropped.
“What did you do to my wife?””
Victoria stepped backward.
“Don't speak to me like that.””
“Answer me.””
“You're upsetting yourself over an old box!””
Vincent placed one hand on the closed lid.
He didn't open it.
He simply watched Victoria.
And for the first time since their marriage, she looked genuinely afraid of him.
Grace, still seated on the staircase, quietly observed the exchange.
She had been working in the mansion for only four months.
But she had heard something strange during her first week.
A name.
Elena.
It had been whispered by an elderly housekeeper who disappeared from the mansion the following morning.
Grace had never dared ask questions.
Now, looking at Victoria's frightened face, she understood why.
“Mr. Sterling,” Grace whispered.
Vincent turned.
“Yes?””
Grace hesitated.
Then she looked directly at Victoria.
“There's something you should know about that chest.””
Victoria's head snapped toward her.
“Don't you dare.””
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Grace, what is it?””
The pregnant maid swallowed.
“The night I started working here, I heard Mrs. Sterling talking to someone in the basement.””
Victoria's lips parted.
Grace continued.
“She said the woman in the photograph was never supposed to be found.””
Vincent went completely still.
“What photograph?””
Grace looked at the engraved initials.
“The photograph of your wife.””
And then, from somewhere deep inside the mansion, a door slammed.
Vincent turned toward the sound.
Victoria closed her eyes.
May you like
Because someone else had heard Grace.
And that person knew exactly what was inside the locked chest.
