She Thought Her Mother-in-Law Tried to Kill Her—Then Her Husband Saw the Truth

Elena ran.

Marcus shouted after her, but anger moved faster than fear. She reached the corner and found the west wing door closing.

She caught it with her palm.

Locked.

"Open it!" she yelled.

No answer.

Marcus arrived behind her, breathing hard. "Elena, stop."

"You saw that."

"I saw movement. I didn't see who it was."

"Red dress."

"Could've been a curtain."

Elena laughed once, sharp and humorless. "This house doesn't have red curtains. Your mother hates them. Says they look cheap."

Marcus tried the brass knob. Locked.

The west wing had been closed since his father died. Victoria claimed the roof leaked and the wiring was unsafe. Elena had never been allowed inside.

"Where's the key?" she asked.

"Mom keeps it."

"Of course she does."

Marcus called security. The estate manager, Owen Pike, answered after four rings and claimed he had been checking the generator by the gatehouse. When Marcus demanded he come inside, Owen sounded almost irritated.

Elena watched Marcus's face.

"Ask him who else is on the property."

Marcus did.

A pause.

"He says nobody."

"He's lying."

Five minutes later Owen arrived in a waxed jacket, rain on his shoulders though the sky outside was clear. He was sixty, broad, and loyal to Victoria in the way old dogs were loyal to one voice.

"West wing alarm hasn't been triggered," he said.

"Then open it," Elena replied.

Owen looked at Marcus, not her. "Mrs. Blackwood gave strict instructions."

"I'm a Blackwood too," Marcus said. "Open it."

Owen's eyes hardened, then dropped.

"I don't have the key."

Elena noticed a thin scratch of red thread caught on his cuff.

She reached for it.

Owen jerked his arm back.

"What's that?"

"Nothing."

"Looks like velvet."