Chapter 27 A Perfectly Believable Excuse
Sloane
Usually, the gold-leafed lobby and the quiet hum of the air conditioning made me feel safe, like I was wrapped in a bubble of wealth. Now, as the elevator climbed toward the executive floor, the marble floors felt cold and the silence felt like a held breath.
I smoothed my skirt for the tenth time. I had to be perfect. If what I’d heard last night was true, the man behind the office doors at the end of the hall was using my life as a curtain to hide his crimes.
Cade’s voice echoed in my head. Steady, unyielding.
You go in... You smile… You’ll thank him...
I pushed open the doors. Richard was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, the afternoon sun streaming in behind him. He looked every bit the powerful businessman, a pen in his hand and a stack of folders in front of him.
"Sloane," he said, standing up with a warm smile. "You look wonderful. Not too tired from last night, I hope?"
"Just a little," I said, forcing my voice to stay steady.
“How was the dinner?”, he asked.
"The dinner was beautiful, uncle”, I replied, as I walked to the center of the room, my heels clicking sharply on the polished wood.. Thank you again for everything."
"It was the least I could do for my favorite niece," he said.
He reached into his top drawer and pulled out my silver case. He stood up and held it out to me, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Here it is. Safe and sound. I know how much you value this."
As I reached out to take it, my fingers brushed his. A jolt of pure ice went through me. I didn't pull away. I couldn't. But it took every ounce of my strength not to flinch.
"Thank you," I whispered, clutching the case to my chest.
Richard didn't sit back down. He walked around the desk, leaning against the edge of it, looking at me with a fatherly concern that now felt wrong.
"You seemed a bit... distracted toward the end of the night, sweetheart," he said softly. "Is everything alright? Cade hasn't given you any reason for cold feet, has he?"
"No," I lied, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Nothing like that. Just nerves about the wedding. It’s a lot of attention all at once."
Richard nodded slowly, smiling. "It is indeed."
His gaze lingered on me a second too long, searching my face for something. My skin felt like it was crawling, but I kept my chin up. Finally, he broke the stare and walked back to sit down.
I stayed where I was, my feet feeling heavy. I stared at him, watching the way he comfortably settled into his leather chair.
Part of me wanted to scream at him. I wanted to slam my silver case onto his desk and ask him exactly what kind of business he was conducting under my grandmother’s roof. I wanted him to look me in the eye and admit that he was using her name, our name, to move people like they were nothing more than inventory. I wanted to know how he could smile at me while he destroyed lives.
The air in the room felt thick. I could feel the heat of the sunlight on the back of my neck. I just kept looking at him, my mind spinning with images of the "transfer" he had spoken about so casually.
Richard looked up from a folder, noticing I was still standing there. He tilted his head, his expression curious. "Sloane? Is anything wrong?"
The sound of my name snapped me back to reality. I blinked, realizing I’d been staring at him for too long. I forced a small smile and pretended to brush a stray hair behind my ear, acting like I’d just been lost in a daydream.
"No, sorry," I said, my voice surprisingly clear. "I just... I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. A man came by during dinner yesterday, near the end. I saw him for a second and didn't recognize him. Is he someone new on the staff?"
I held my breath. It was a risky move, but I needed to know what he would say. I needed to see if he would lie.
He didn't look guilty or surprised. He just leaned back, looking thoughtful for a moment before he gave a small, dismissive wave of his hand.
"Oh, him," Richard said smoothly. "We had a bit of a crisis with some new hall decorations Claire requested for the entryway. Apparently, there was an issue with the delivery, and they sent a supervisor over to make sure the placement was correct. It was a headache, really, but it’s all handled now."
He said it so easily. He didn't stumble over his words. He gave a perfectly believable excuse that fit right in with the chaos of a high-end party.
A wave of relief washed over me first. It was a strange, hollow feeling. If he was making up a story about decorations, it meant he truly hadn't seen me eavesdropping. I wasn't in immediate danger. But that relief was quickly replaced by a sick sense of horror.
He was lying to my face. He was looking at me with that familiar, "kind uncle" expression, and he was lying about something monstrous. I knew the truth, and he was treating me like I was a child who could be easily fooled by a story about flowers and curtains.
"Decorations," I repeated, a bitter taste in my mouth. I forced a light, dry chuckle. "Well, leave it to Claire to have a supervisor sent over in the middle of a dinner just to move a vase two inches to the left."
Richard laughed, a warm, genuine-sounding sound. "Exactly. You know how she is about the details. Everything has to be perfect."
"It certainly does," I said. I gripped my silver case tighter. "Thank you again for finding this"
"Of course, sweetheart."
I turned and walked toward the door. I focused on the sound of my heels on the floor, trying to keep my pace steady and calm. I didn't look back.
I pushed open the doors and stepped out into the hallway. The moment the doors clicked shut behind me, the air felt easier to breathe.
The weight of what I knew felt like it was going to crush me. Richard was more dangerous than I had imagined, because he was so good at being "good."
I walked a few steps away from his office and leaned my shoulder against the cool marble of a pillar. My legs were shaking so much I wasn't sure I could make it to the elevator.
I closed my eyes and took a deep, jagged breath. My heart was thumping so loud it was all I could hear. I’d done it. I’d faced him. I’d looked into the eyes of a liar and I hadn't broken.
"Sloane?"
A voice nearby made me jump. I snapped my eyes open, my hand flying to my chest.
Someone was standing a few feet away, looking at me with a worried expression.