Chapter 2: Eight Months of Lies
The next morning, I woke to three missed calls from an unknown number.
My daughter was sitting at the kitchen table, eating cereal and watching cartoons on my old tablet.
"Mommy, your phone keeps ringing.""
I picked it up.
The number called again.
"Hello?""
"Clara Bennett?""
A woman's voice.
"Yes.""
"This is Margaret Collins. I'm Mr. Ashford's attorney. We met last night.""
I glanced at the clock.
7:14 a.m.
"Is Mr. Ashford all right?""
"He's fine. I'd like to speak with you about the incident.""
I lowered my voice.
"Did something happen?""
"Not over the phone. Could you come to the estate this morning?""
I hesitated.
"I have a shift at eleven.""
"Your employer has been informed that you're required to attend a meeting.""
That made me uncomfortable.
"Required?""
A brief silence.
"Requested," she corrected.
"And paid for, regardless of whether you choose to come.""
I looked toward Lily.
"Can I bring my daughter?""
"Of course. There will be someone available to look after her while we speak.""
I agreed.
After hanging up, I stared at the small silver key sitting beside my phone.
I hadn't slept much.
I'd spent most of the night wondering whether I should have handed it to security.
But something stopped me.
The engraving.
The date.
The words on the tag.
I had hidden it in the pocket of my coat, and now I wasn't sure whether keeping it had been a mistake.
"Mommy?""
Lily looked up.
"Are we going somewhere?""
"Yes, sweetheart.""
"Is it your big work house?""
I smiled.
"Something like that.""
She returned to her cereal.
"Can we see the horse?""
Ashford Manor had three horses, two greenhouses, a private tennis court, and a library large enough to make our entire apartment look like a storage cupboard.
It also had a basement I had never been allowed to enter.
By nine, I was standing outside the main entrance with Lily's hand in mine.
Robert Hayes opened the door.
"Good morning, Clara.""
"Good morning.""
He looked at Lily.
"And who is this?""
"My daughter. Lily.""
Robert crouched slightly.
"Nice to meet you, Lily.""
"Do you have horses?""
His expression softened.
"We do. If your mother agrees, I'll arrange for someone to show you.""
Lily looked at me hopefully.
I nodded.
"Only if you stay with them.""
Robert smiled.
"Of course.""
He called one of the estate assistants, who led Lily toward the garden.
Then he turned to me.
"Mr. Ashford is waiting in the library.""
I followed him through the entrance hall.
The house smelled of polished wood, fresh flowers, and expensive furniture.
Everything was exactly where it had always been.
Except the people.
The staff members I passed seemed unusually quiet.
One woman lowered her eyes when she saw me.
Another hurried into a side corridor.
It was as though the entire house had been instructed not to discuss the previous night.
Robert opened the library door.
Julian sat beside the fireplace in a dark sweater and tailored trousers.
No wheelchair.
He was standing beside a bookshelf, one hand resting lightly against the wood.
When he saw me, he straightened.
"Clara.""
"Good morning, sir.""
"Please. Julian.""
Margaret sat at the desk with a folder open in front of her.
She gestured toward a chair.
"Thank you for coming.""
I sat.
Julian returned to his armchair, moving carefully.
"How is your knee?""
"Better.""
"Your hands?""
"Still sore.""
He nodded.
"I've arranged for the medical expenses to be covered.""
I immediately shook my head.
"I don't need that.""
Margaret looked up.
"Clara, you were injured while preventing a potentially serious accident. The estate has a responsibility to cover reasonable treatment.""
"I understand. But I was doing my job.""
Julian leaned forward.
"No. You were doing something most people in that room chose not to do.""
I didn't know what to say.
Margaret closed the folder.
"We need your account of what happened, in detail.""
So I told them.
I described where Victoria had been standing, the position of her hand, the way the chair moved, and the speed at which it rolled.
I also mentioned something I hadn't told Robert the previous night.
"The brakes didn't seem to work.""
Julian went still.
"What do you mean?""
"I tried to stop the chair. Daniel grabbed the other side. But the wheels moved very easily. There was almost no resistance.""
Margaret exchanged a glance with Robert.
Julian looked down at his hands.
"That chair has two independent braking systems.""
"Then maybe both were damaged," I said.
"Perhaps.""
Margaret wrote something down.
"Did you see anyone near the chair before the incident?""
I thought carefully.
"There was a photographer. Two waiters. Mrs.
Ashford. And a man carrying a black equipment case.""
Robert looked up.
"What man?""
"I don't know. He wore a dark suit. I thought he was with the photography team.""
"Did you recognize him?""
"No.""
Julian's expression changed.
"Describe him.""
I did.
Tall. Gray hair. A small scar near his chin. Black gloves, despite the ballroom being warm.
Margaret stopped writing.
"Julian?""
He looked at her.
"Could it have been him?""
"Who?"" I asked.
Neither answered.
Instead, Julian asked Robert to bring up the security footage.
The screen on the desk showed the ballroom from three different angles.
Margaret fast-forwarded through the recording.
Guests entered.
Waiters circulated.
The photographer moved around the room.
Then Victoria appeared behind Julian's wheelchair.
I leaned forward.
"There.""
Margaret paused the footage.
Victoria stood directly behind the chair.
Her right hand rested on the handle.
But the camera angle made it impossible to see whether she touched the brakes.
"Can you zoom in?"" I asked.
Robert enlarged the image.
For a moment, we saw her hand clearly.
Then Julian spoke.
"Go back ten seconds.""
Robert did.
A man entered the frame.
Gray hair.
Dark suit.
Black gloves.
The scar.
My stomach tightened.
"That's him.""
Margaret stood.
"Stop the recording.""
Robert froze the image.
The man was walking toward the terrace doors.
But his face wasn't the only thing visible.
His right hand held a small black object.
A remote control.
Julian's jaw tightened.
"Do you know him?"" I asked.
"His name is Victor Hale," Margaret answered.
"He was my client's former rehabilitation consultant.""
"Former?""
Julian looked toward the window.
"He disappeared shortly after my accident.""
I frowned.
"Why?""
"Because he was dismissed.""
Margaret corrected him.
"Because he resigned after his medical records were questioned.""
I stared at the screen.
"Medical records?""
Julian took a slow breath.
"Eight months ago, I was driving home from a business meeting. My car left the road. The official report said I suffered a spinal injury that left me unable to walk.""
"Was that wrong?""
"Not entirely.""
He looked at me.
"I did suffer a serious injury. But the diagnosis was deliberately exaggerated.""
I sat back.
"Why would someone do that?""
"Money," Margaret said.
Julian's expression remained cold.
"My wife controlled my medical appointments. She chose my rehabilitation specialists. She handled the insurance claims and convinced my board that I was permanently incapacitated.""
I frowned.
"Your board?""
"Of directors. I own a company.""
I knew the name Ashford Industries, of course.
Everyone did.
Its buildings were scattered across London, and its advertisements appeared in newspapers and business magazines.
I had never connected the company to the quiet man whose coffee I delivered every morning.
Julian continued.
"While I was recovering, Victoria assumed control of several family trusts. She also gained access to my voting rights.""
Margaret opened another folder.
"There's more. During the past six months, substantial transfers were made from Mr. Ashford's private accounts.""
"How much?""
"Approximately forty-two million pounds.""
My mouth fell open.
"Forty-two million?""
Julian nodded.
"And every transfer was authorized using a medical power of attorney Victoria claimed I had signed.""
"But did you?""
"No.""
The room went quiet.
I thought about the silver key in my coat pocket.
About the basement.
About the date engraved on its back.
"Mr. Ashford," I said slowly, "I found something last night.""
I reached into my pocket and placed the key on the desk.
Margaret's eyes narrowed.
"Where did you find this?""
"Under the table near Mrs. Ashford's chair.""
Julian picked it up.
The moment he saw the engraving, his face changed.
He looked at Margaret.
"Where did you say the original medical records were stored?""
Margaret didn't answer immediately.
Then she turned toward Robert.
"Get the basement access log.""
Robert left.
Julian held the key between his fingers.
"Clara, you shouldn't have kept this without telling security.""
"I know.""
"Did anyone see you take it?""
"I don't think so.""
He looked toward the door.
"Then we may have a problem.""
"Why?""
He placed the key on the desk.
"Because that key belongs to the archive room.""
Margaret leaned forward.
"Which was sealed after Victor Hale disappeared.""
I felt a chill.
"Why was it sealed?""
Julian looked directly at me.
"Because the last person who entered that room was my first wife.""
I blinked.
"Your first wife?""
He nodded.
"Her name was Eleanor.""
"Where is she now?""
For the first time since I had met him, Julian looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"Dead.""
The word hung between us.
Margaret slowly closed the folder.
"Eleanor died six months before Julian's accident," she said.
"The official cause was a fall down the east staircase.""
I looked at the silver key.
Then at Julian.
"Was it an accident?""
He didn't answer.
Instead, he asked Robert's returning footsteps to stop.
The security chief stood in the doorway, holding a tablet.
"Sir, there's something you need to see.""
He turned the screen toward Julian.
It showed the basement access log.
One entry had been recorded at 2:13 a.m.
The night before the gala.
Someone had entered the archive room.
May you like
Someone using a staff identification card.
And the name attached to that card was mine.
