Chapter 3 - The Name They Buried
Emily could not hear the orchestra anymore.
She could not hear the guests.
She could barely hear herself breathing.
For four years, the name Thomas Carter had been attached to one word.
Coward.
Newspapers had called him a reckless driver.
Television commentators had called him irresponsible.
Victoria Harrington’s foundation had released a statement describing the attack as a tragic accident caused by an unstable employee.
Emily’s father had been that employee.
He had died before he could defend himself.
Now Eleanor Moretti was telling her that every headline had been a lie.
Emily pulled her hand away.
“No.”
Eleanor looked wounded.
“Emily—”
“My father was blamed for your injuries.”
“I know.”
“He lost his job before he died.”
“I know.”
“People spat at him outside our apartment.”
Alexander’s expression darkened.
Emily’s voice began to shake.
“My brother was twelve years old when someone painted the word murderer across our front door.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“I did not know that.”
“You never corrected the story.”
“I could not remember everything.”
“But you remembered his name.”
“Not until I saw you.”
Emily stood.
The movement was so sudden that Eleanor’s wheelchair shifted.
Alexander reached for the handle.
Emily stepped back.
“You are the most powerful family in Chicago.”
“That did not make my mother’s memory complete,” Alexander said.
Emily turned on him.
“It made your silence louder.”
Alexander accepted the accusation without flinching.
Emily looked down at Eleanor.
“What happened that night?”
Eleanor looked toward the ballroom doors.
Fear moved across her face.
“I remember rain.”
“Then tell me about the rain.”
“I remember a black car.”
“What else?”
“A bridge.”
Emily waited.
Eleanor pressed a hand against her temple.
“I heard Alexander’s name.”
Alexander leaned closer.
“Who said it?”
“I do not know.”
Eleanor’s breathing became shallow.
Emily’s anger disappeared beneath concern.
“That is enough.”
Alexander signaled to one of his guards.
A tall man with close-cropped hair approached.
“This is Luca Bianchi,” Alexander said.
“My head of security.”
Luca crouched beside Eleanor.
“We should move her.”
Emily looked around the ballroom.
The man near the doors was gone.
She had not seen him clearly.
But she remembered the way he had watched them.
“Someone was standing over there.”
Luca followed her gaze.
“Who?”
“A hotel employee.”
“What did he look like?”
“Average height.”
“Dark hair.”
“He was on the phone.”
Henry Dalton approached again.
“What employee?”
Emily pointed toward the doors.
“Black vest.”
“White shirt.”
“Silver name tag.”
Henry shook his head.
“All banquet staff have gold name tags.”
Luca’s posture changed.
Alexander looked toward the doors.
“Lock down the building.”
Henry froze.
“You cannot lock down a hotel.”
Alexander looked at him.
“Watch me.”
The ballroom doors closed.
Security guards moved through the room.
Guests began complaining.
Phones appeared.
Whispers spread.
Emily stared at Eleanor.
“Did my father work for your family?”
“He was a contract driver.”
“For you?”
“For the Harrington Foundation.”
Emily’s stomach tightened.
“Victoria employed him?”
Eleanor nodded.
“She arranged the car that night.”
Alexander’s eyes became cold.
“Why did you never tell me that?”
“I did.”
“No, you said the driver’s records had been lost.”
“They were.”
“Who told you that?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“Your uncle.”
A new voice entered the conversation.
“Is there a reason my name is being used?”
Renato Moretti emerged from the crowd.
He was Alexander’s uncle.
He was sixty-one years old.
His silver hair was neatly combed.
His tuxedo was immaculate.
His smile was warm enough to reassure strangers.
Emily did not feel reassured.
Renato kissed Eleanor’s cheek.
“You have had too much excitement.”
Eleanor looked at him carefully.
“You told me the driver’s records were destroyed.”
“They were.”
“Thomas Carter was the driver.”
Renato’s smile remained in place.
“Was he?”
Emily stared at him.
“You do not remember the name of the man your family blamed?”
Renato turned to her.
His smile weakened.
“And you are?”
“The waitress who stopped Victoria Harrington from hitting your sister-in-law.”
“Ah.”
He looked at Alexander.
“I heard.”
“You should have arrived sooner,” Alexander said.
“I was speaking with donors.”
Renato glanced at the broken crystal.
“So I see.”
He returned his attention to Emily.
“I am sorry about your father.”
“Were you sorry when your family allowed him to be called a murderer?”
Renato’s eyes sharpened.
Alexander stepped forward.
“She asked you a question.”
Renato sighed.
“Thomas Carter was not employed by the Moretti family.”
“He was provided by the Harrington Foundation.”
“We relied on their internal investigation.”
Emily almost laughed.
“Victoria investigated herself?”
Renato’s voice cooled.
“Be careful.”
Alexander looked at his uncle.
“She does not need to be careful.”
“Perhaps you do.”
Renato lowered his voice.
“This ballroom is full of cameras.”
“You are frightening donors.”
“I am searching for an intruder.”
“You are reacting to the observation of a waitress.”
Emily stepped closer.
“He was not a member of staff.”
Renato barely glanced at her.
“You have had a difficult evening.”
“That does not make me blind.”
Luca returned.
“We found the uniform.”
“Where?” Alexander asked.
“In a service stairwell.”
“And the man?”
“Gone.”
Luca held up a silver name tag inside a plastic evidence bag.
It had no name.
Only a small symbol scratched across the back.
A crown.
Renato looked at it.
His expression did not change.
Eleanor’s did.
She gripped the wheelchair arm.
“I have seen that before.”
Alexander knelt beside her.
“Where?”
“On the car.”
“The night of the attack?”
Eleanor nodded.
Emily’s heart pounded.
“What happened after the bridge?”
Eleanor stared at the silver tag.
“The car struck the guardrail.”
“I could not move my legs.”
“Someone opened my door.”
“Was it my father?”
“Yes.”
“Thomas pulled me out.”
Eleanor’s eyes filled.
“He carried me through the rain.”
Alexander’s voice hardened.
“What happened to him?”
“He heard another car approaching.”
“He put me behind a concrete barrier.”
“Then he ran back toward the road.”
Emily held her breath.
Eleanor began crying.
“The second car did not stop.”
Emily’s knees weakened.
“My father died two weeks after your attack.”
Eleanor looked confused.
“No.”
“He died that night.”
Emily shook her head.
“He came home.”
“He was injured, but he came home.”
Eleanor stared at her.
“Then who did I see on the road?”
Nobody answered.
Luca’s phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
Then he turned to Alexander.
“We have another problem.”
“What?”
“Someone entered Miss Carter’s apartment forty minutes ago.”
Emily went cold.
“My brother is there.”
She grabbed her phone.
Seven missed calls covered the screen.
All from Noah.
Then a message appeared.
It contained a photograph of her father’s pendant resting on a kitchen table.
Emily touched her neck.
Her pendant was still there.
The pendant in the photograph was identical.
May you like
Under the photograph were six words.
BRING ELEANOR, OR NOAH LEARNS THE TRUTH.
