Chapter 8 - The Housekeeper Who Disappeared
Neve Sloane had worked for the Vale family for nine years.
She had changed Sorrel’s diapers.
Sat beside Elowen during chemotherapy.
Packed Hadrian’s suitcases.
Managed birthdays.
Remembered food allergies.
Then, six weeks before the dinner, she disappeared.
Aurelia told Hadrian that Neve had resigned after stealing jewelry.
Hadrian had accepted the explanation because a bracelet was missing.
Detective Holt found Neve in Rhode Island.
She had not resigned.
She had been fired.
Neve agreed to meet only after Hadrian promised Aurelia would not know where she lived.
When Hadrian entered the small café, Neve looked at him and began crying.
“I should have called the police.”
He sat opposite her.
“Yes.”
She flinched.
He immediately regretted the hardness.
But he could not absolve everyone because they were frightened.
Neve wiped her eyes.
“The first time I saw the cuff, it wasn’t locked.”
Hadrian said nothing.
“Aurelia showed it to me. She called it an anchor.”
“An anchor.”
“For tantrums.”
“She was four.”
“I told her no.”
“What happened?”
“She said your mother approved the discipline plan.”
Hadrian’s jaw tightened.
“Did Lenora?”
“I asked Mrs. Vale.”
“And?”
“She said, ‘Aurelia is Sorrel’s stepmother. Stop undermining her authority.’”
Hadrian looked away.
Neve continued.
“I started staying near Sorrel whenever you traveled. Aurelia hated it.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did.”
Hadrian turned back.
“Three times.”
He remembered missed calls.
Aurelia had said Neve was upset about reduced staffing.
“Then your assistant told me family household issues should go through Mrs. Vale.”
Hadrian felt sick.
His executive assistant reported to Marius’s office during travel weeks.
Another wall around him.
Neve opened her bag.
“I kept these.”
Photographs.
Sorrel standing beside the dining-room wall.
A printed behavior chart.
A screenshot of a text from Aurelia.
She will not eat until she apologizes properly. Do not undermine me.
Another from Lenora.
Hadrian does not need every domestic detail while negotiating.
Hadrian’s hand tightened around the paper.
Neve whispered, “I hid food in Sorrel’s room twice.”
“Did Aurelia know?”
“She found out.”
“What did she do?”
“She fired me.”
“And the bracelet?”
Neve gave a bitter laugh.
“Aurelia put it in my suitcase.”
Hadrian looked up sharply.
“How do you know?”
“Because three days after I was fired, she texted me a photograph of it inside the suitcase and said if I accused her of anything, she would report the theft.”
Blackmail.
Simple.
Effective.
Neve had left quietly.
“Why are you talking now?”
“Because I saw the video online.”
“The one of me hitting her.”
Neve nodded.
“And then the news mentioned Sorrel.”
She stared down.
“I kept thinking about Elowen.”
Hadrian’s chest tightened.
“What about her?”
“Before she died, she asked me to hide something.”
“The green ledger?”
Neve looked startled.
“You know about it?”
“Not enough.”
Neve leaned closer.
“Elowen said Marius was moving company losses through charities and development vendors.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She said she tried.”
Hadrian closed his eyes briefly.
Of course.
Everyone kept telling him Elowen had tried.
Neve continued.
“She made copies of documents and wrote transaction references in that ledger.”
“Where is it?”
“I hid it in Graymere’s old nursery wall safe.”
Corinne had never mentioned a wall safe.
“Who knew?”
“Elowen. Me.”
A pause.
“And later Aurelia.”
Hadrian stared.
“How?”
“Last year she asked me about Elowen’s belongings. She had found a note referring to ‘the nursery book.’ I lied and said it meant Sorrel’s baby album.”
“Did she believe you?”
“I thought so.”
Detective Holt leaned forward.
“Did you ever tell Lenora or Marius?”
“No.”
Hadrian studied Neve.
“Why protect Elowen’s evidence for two years?”
“Because she was afraid the company would bury it.”
“And you trusted me so little you didn’t give it to me?”
Neve’s face crumpled.
“She didn’t trust you either.”
The words landed like a blow.
Hadrian sat motionless.
Neve reached into her bag one last time.
“There’s something else.”
She produced an old voice recorder.
Not Sorrel’s smartwatch.
A cheap digital device.
“Elowen gave me this the week she entered hospice.”
Hadrian stared at it.
“What’s on it?”
“I never listened.”
“Why?”
“She said it was for you.”
Hadrian picked it up.
His thumb hovered over the button.
Then stopped.
He was suddenly terrified.
Not of Marius.
Not of Lenora.
Of hearing his dead wife describe who she believed he had become.
That evening he placed the recorder in his desk.
He could not press play.
But somebody else had learned Neve was talking.
At 11:07 p.m., her apartment window was smashed.
Nothing was taken.
May you like
Only one object had been left on the floor beneath the broken glass.
A photograph of Sorrel.
