Chapter 3 - The Portrait in the FireVictoria’s face changed.
Only for a second.
But Emily saw it.
Fear.
Richard saw it too.
“You burned Eleanor’s portrait?”
Victoria recovered quickly.
“It was damaged.”
Thomas shook his head.
“No, Miss Whitmore.”
Victoria glared at him.
He continued anyway.
“You said you were redecorating the west gallery.”
Richard’s cane struck the stone.
“Why?”
Victoria folded her arms.
“Because I live here.”
“You don’t own this castle.”
“Not yet.”
Richard’s eyes hardened.
The guests went quiet.
Emily wanted to leave.
Every instinct told her that this had nothing to do with her.
But the necklace against her chest suddenly felt heavier.
As though the dead were pulling her backward into a story she had never been told.
Richard looked at Thomas.
“Was the portrait destroyed?”
Thomas hesitated.
“No.”
Victoria spun toward him.
“What?”
“One of the maintenance staff stopped the disposal crew.”
Richard’s expression sharpened.
“Where is it?”
“In the old storage wing.”
Richard looked at Emily.
“Come with me.”
“I said I want to leave.”
“And I will arrange a car.”
Emily nodded quickly.
“Good.”
“But first, I want to show you something.”
“No.”
Richard looked at the pendant.
“Your mother told you to wait until someone recognized that necklace.”
Emily’s anger rose.
“My mother is dead.”
Richard’s face softened.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t know anything about her.”
Emily stepped closer.
“She worked two jobs when I was a kid. She never asked anyone for help. When she got sick, she sold her car before she let me miss a semester of school.”
Her voice broke.
“You don’t get to look at a necklace and suddenly act like you knew her.”
Richard lowered his eyes.
“I didn’t know Anna.”
Lady Margaret looked at him.
“But you knew Eleanor.”
Richard’s expression closed.
Emily noticed.
“What happened to her?”
No one answered immediately.
Finally, Richard said, “She disappeared.”
Emily frowned.
“When?”
“1979.”
“That’s before my mother was born.”
“Yes.”
“Then how could she be my grandmother?”
Richard looked toward Lady Margaret.
Margaret answered.
“Because Eleanor disappeared while pregnant.”
The world seemed to tilt.
Emily’s fingers slipped from the pendant.
“My grandmother?”
Richard nodded.
“If Anna was Eleanor’s daughter…”
Victoria cut in.
“This is absurd.”
Richard turned.
“What exactly is absurd?”
“That some maid appears with an old necklace and suddenly she’s family?”
Emily looked at her.
“I didn’t appear anywhere. You hired me.”
Victoria opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
Richard noticed.
“What?”
Nothing.
“Victoria.”
She looked away.
“Who recommended Emily?”
Victoria’s silence became an answer.
Richard’s expression darkened.
Thomas spoke carefully.
“The placement file came through a private referral.”
Emily frowned.
“No. I applied through Sterling Domestic.”
Thomas nodded.
“Yes, but your application was flagged.”
“Flagged?”
“For Whitmore Castle specifically.”
Emily stared at Victoria.
“You knew who I was?”
Victoria laughed.
“Of course not.”
Richard stepped closer.
“Then why did you destroy Eleanor’s portrait on the same day you humiliated a maid wearing Eleanor’s necklace?”
Victoria’s mouth tightened.
No one moved.
Richard looked to Thomas.
“Bring the portrait.”
Thomas nodded and hurried away.
Emily felt sick.
Victoria walked toward her.
Richard raised his cane between them.
“Don’t.”
Victoria stopped.
“I’m trying to help her understand how ridiculous this looks.”
Emily met her eyes.
Victoria smiled.
Too calmly.
“If your mother really had some grand family secret, why didn’t she tell you?”
The question hurt because Emily had asked herself the same thing.
Richard answered before she could.
“Because Eleanor was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
Lady Margaret whispered, “Your grandfather.”
Richard’s face went hard.
Victoria stared.
“My grandfather?”
Richard nodded.
“Charles Whitmore.”
The legendary patriarch whose oil paintings still hung throughout the castle.
Emily had seen them.
A stern man with dark eyes.
Always standing.
Never smiling.
Richard continued.
“He controlled everyone.”
Lady Margaret’s voice became quieter.
“Especially Eleanor.”
Emily swallowed.
“What did he do?”
Richard stared toward the dark windows overlooking the courtyard.
“He told us she ran away.”
“And you believed him?”
“I was sixteen.”
Emily said nothing.
A minute later, Thomas returned with two staff members.
They carried a large framed painting wrapped in cloth.
Richard nodded.
The cloth came away.
Emily stopped breathing.
The portrait showed a young woman standing beside the same lotus fountain.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
Green eyes.
Around her neck hung the exact pendant Emily was wearing.
But that wasn’t what made Emily’s knees weak.
It was the woman’s face.
Emily had seen it before.
Every morning of her childhood.
Every birthday.
Every Christmas.
Every day until three months ago.
Lady Margaret whispered, “Eleanor.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
Richard looked at her.
Emily stepped toward the painting.
“That’s my mother.”
Richard’s eyes widened.
“What?”
Emily pointed.
“That woman.”
Her voice trembled.
“That is Anna.”
Thomas looked stunned.
Lady Margaret moved closer to the portrait.
“No, darling.”
She turned toward Emily.
“This painting was completed in 1978.”
Emily stared at the painted face.
The same eyes.
The same cheekbones.
The same small dimple near the mouth.
It looked exactly like her mother at twenty-five.
Richard went pale.
Then Emily remembered something.
Her mother’s final night.
A whisper from the hospital bed.
Something Emily had believed was caused by medication.
“Emily…”
Her mother had said.
“If they recognize the necklace…”
Emily had leaned closer.
“What?”
Anna’s eyes had filled with fear.
“Don’t trust the first person who calls you family.”
Emily slowly turned.
Richard was staring at her.
Victoria was staring too.
May you like
And for the first time, Emily realized the most dangerous person in the castle might not be the woman who had held her underwater.
It might be the person who had just ordered Victoria to kneel.
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