Chapter 5 You Dare to Steal from the Dead
"Wait!"
The sharp voice cut through the heavy silence like glass shattering.
Celeste moved quickly, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she reached Caroline and placed a hand gently on her arm. Turning toward Patricia, she offered a soft smile.
"Ms. Clark, please… forgive Caroline just this once. She's not been well lately. The doctor says she's suffering from severe depression, and sometimes she can't control her actions."
On the surface, it sounded like she was defending Caroline. But those words—so carefully chosen—carried a weight that made the guests' eyes grow colder, their disdain sharpening.
Several of the women exchanged glances. The whispers began again, low and venomous.
"Depression? More like pretending to be unstable."
"Using that as an excuse to avoid responsibility… how pathetic."
Patricia's lips curled into a mocking smile. "Depression? I'm not buying it. When you make a mistake, you take responsibility. That's basic manners."
"You're absolutely right. Manners matter," Celeste replied, her tone still warm, but each syllable edged like a blade. "It's just… ever since Edith passed away, Caroline's been emotionally fragile. Our parents and Alexander have worried themselves sick over her. Ms. Clark, you're known for your generosity. Please, forgive her this time. I'm sure if Edith were watching from above, she wouldn't want to see Caroline like this…"
The mention of Edith shifted the air in the room. Conversations faltered. Every guest remembered that tragedy from five years ago. Their gazes toward Caroline turned colder still, like ice pressed against bare skin.
Alexander's brow furrowed. The disgust in his eyes was no longer subtle—it was a storm ready to break.
Celeste slid her arm through his, tilting her face up toward him. "Alexander, let it go. Caroline already knows she was wrong. Let's give her a bit of dignity… please?"
Her posture was humble, her expression the picture of kindness. If Caroline hadn't heard the undertones—the quiet insinuation that she was ungrateful—she might have believed Celeste genuinely meant to help her.
Alexander's glare lingered on Caroline for a long moment before he turned to Patricia. "Ms. Clark, I'll make amends for tonight's offense. I'll have the finest designer recreate your gown exactly as you wish. Will that satisfy you?"
Patricia's eyes narrowed, but she gave a reluctant nod. Still, she shot Caroline a look sharp enough to cut. "Only because Celeste asked. But some people should learn their place."
The party resumed, but the weight of those stares followed Caroline like a shadow she couldn't shake.
She withdrew to the far corner, wishing she could melt into the darkness and disappear.
Celeste appeared again, her voice soft. "Caroline, are you all right? You don't look well."
Caroline shook her head, saying nothing. Her stomach had begun to ache, a dull pressure that twisted deeper with each breath. A fine sheen of sweat was forming across her forehead.
"Here, drink some water." Celeste pressed a glass into her hand, her other palm resting lightly against Caroline's back. "I know this is hard for you, but you have to be strong. If Edith were here, she'd be worried sick about you."
Edith again.
Caroline's fingers trembled, the water sloshing dangerously close to the rim. She set the glass down, unwilling to play along with Celeste's gentle charade. She turned to find a seat, but Celeste's hand caught her arm.
"You look uncomfortable. Let me take you to the lounge so you can rest for a while."
Caroline pulled away. "No, I'm fine."
"At least let me bring you something to eat. You haven't touched a thing tonight, have you?" Celeste's voice was sweet, but her hand was already reaching for Caroline's handbag. "I'll grab you a few pastries. Wait here."
Her fingers lingered on the clasp for a moment, the motion smooth and unhurried. She slid the zipper open, then closed it again, the movement so quick it could have been missed entirely. Caroline, head heavy and eyes closed as she rubbed her temples, noticed nothing.
"You don't need to—" Caroline began, but Celeste had already crossed the room toward the buffet.
Minutes later, she returned with a small plate of delicate pastries and pressed it into Caroline's hands. "Eat something. You'll collapse otherwise."
Caroline stared at the plate. Her appetite was gone, but from across the room, Alexander's cold gaze found her and held her there. It was a silent command. A reminder.
She forced herself to take a bite. The sweetness was cloying, melting into a strange, bitter undertone she couldn't place.
The party dragged on until midnight. By the time the last guest left, Caroline was nearly too tired to stand.
She tried to help clean up, but the butler intercepted her. "Madam, Mr. Hamilton instructed you to return to your room. We don't require your assistance."
The dismissal was sharp, the tone one would use for an unwanted servant.
Caroline didn't argue. She turned toward the stairs. Passing the living room, she caught sight of Alexander and Celeste on the balcony, standing close, heads inclined toward each other. Moonlight traced the curve of Celeste's cheek, and for a fleeting second, her profile was Edith's.
Caroline's chest tightened. She looked away quickly and hurried upstairs.
She didn't bother changing. She collapsed onto the bed, curling into herself. The pain in her stomach was worsening, a relentless grip that made her breath hitch. She thought of getting medicine, but her limbs felt like lead.
The door swung open.
"Get up." Alexander's voice was cold enough to freeze the air.
Caroline pushed herself upright with effort. "What is it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't answer. He switched on the lamp, flooding the room with warm light that did nothing to soften his expression. In his hand was a necklace.
A silver chain, its pendant a heart-shaped pink diamond surrounded by smaller stones that caught the light like drops of dew.
Caroline's breath caught. Her mind went blank.
It was Edith's necklace—Alexander's gift for her eighteenth birthday, the one she had treasured all her life. On the day of the funeral, Edith's mother had placed it in the coffin so it would stay with her forever.
It should have been buried. It should have been untouchable.
"What's your explanation?"
"I… I don't know…" Caroline's voice shook. "Why do you have it?"
"I found it in your bag." Alexander's tone was sharp enough to cut through bone. "You disgust me. Stealing from the dead?"
"I didn't!" Caroline tried to rise, but her body betrayed her, dropping her back onto the bed. "I've never touched Edith's things. You know that—I never even went into her room!"
"Then how did it end up in your bag? Did it walk there on its own?"
"I don't know… I swear I don't know… Tonight, only Celeste touched my bag. She said she wanted to—"
"Shut up!" His roar filled the room. His hand shot out, closing around her throat, forcing her down into the mattress. "You dare accuse Celeste? She's been defending you all night, and this is how you repay her?"
Caroline clawed weakly at his wrist. Her vision blurred, her ears ringing. Darkness was creeping in at the edges.
Through the haze, she heard his verdict, each word like a door slamming shut.
"Put her in the basement."
"No… no!" Her voice broke into a panicked scream, the word tearing from her throat.
The basement.
Three vicious dogs were kept there. On their wedding night, he had thrown her down there for a week. She had come out with a broken leg.
Pain lanced through her scalp as he dragged her from the bed. The world tilted, and then she was on the cold concrete floor of that place.
In the dark, three pairs of eyes glowed with feral green light.
"Please! Let me out!" Caroline's voice was raw, desperate. But the iron door slammed shut.
A heartbeat later, the dogs lunged.