Chapter 14 - ASHFORD HOUSE
Margaret Ashford had died in what every Chicago newspaper called a tragic boating accident.
Her body had never been recovered.
Victor had held a memorial service at Holy Name Cathedral.
Camilla had been seventeen.
Enzo remembered her standing beside her father in a black dress, perfectly still while hundreds of people offered condolences.
At the time, he had admired her composure.
Now he wondered what else he had misunderstood.
Antonio looked at Lucia.
“How often did Margaret meet Salvatore?”
“Once a month for about two years.”
“Before she died?”
“Yes.”
“What did they discuss?”
“I was not in the room.”
“But you saw the papers.”
“Only from a distance.”
“Anything recognizable?”
“Bank logos.”
“Company seals.”
“Sometimes photographs.”
Enzo looked at Antonio.
“Did Father ever mention her?”
“Not to me.”
“That seems impossible.”
“Your father had entire lives he did not mention to me.”
The bitterness in Antonio's voice was new.
Matteo remained focused on the chair.
“If Margaret was connected to C3, maybe Victor inherited the network after she died.”
Adeline shook her head.
“Or maybe she was trying to expose it.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?” Enzo asked.
“Lucia said Salvatore burned what she brought.”
“That could mean he was destroying evidence.”
“Or protecting it from being found on paper.”
Antonio nodded slowly.
“Salvatore trusted fire more than shredders.”
Adeline looked at Enzo.
“What was Margaret like?”
He thought back.
“Quiet.”
“Unlike Camilla.”
“Very.”
“Did she trust Victor?”
“I was young.”
“That is not an answer.”
Enzo almost smiled despite himself.
“No.”
He looked toward the windows.
“I remember them arguing at a charity dinner.”
“About?”
“I did not hear everything.”
“Victor accused her of embarrassing him.”
Adeline's eyes narrowed.
“Same language Camilla used with me.”
“Yes.”
“What did Margaret do?”
“She left.”
“And then?”
“Three months later she was dead.”
The room became quiet.
Matteo checked his phone.
“We need to move.”
“Where?” Adeline asked.
“Pullman.”
Enzo shook his head.
“Hale warned us not to look for Bell.”
“That is exactly why we should.”
“Or exactly why Victor wants us to.”
Adeline remembered Frank's warning.
Victor moved men where he wanted them.
She looked at the broken party around them.
“Then we stop following his path.”
Enzo looked at her.
“What do you suggest?”
“Camilla.”
Matteo frowned.
“She is missing.”
“She has a house.”
“Victor has six.”
“Camilla has one she considers hers.”
Enzo understood immediately.
A limestone mansion in Gold Coast had belonged to Margaret Ashford.
After Margaret's death, Victor transferred it into a trust for Camilla.
She lived there during college and later used it for private dinners.
Enzo had spent dozens of evenings inside.
“If Camilla kept something from Victor,” Adeline said, “she would keep it somewhere he thinks he controls but she believes belongs to her.”
Matteo looked at Enzo.
“Entering without permission is a problem.”
Enzo's expression was dry.
“So is attempted poisoning.”
“That is not a warrant.”
“No.”
Adeline looked between them.
“You are discussing this as if your family usually worries about warrants.”
Matteo almost laughed.
Enzo did not.
“We worry about evidence surviving court.”
The answer surprised her again.
Enzo continued.
“We do not break into Camilla's house.”
“Then what?”
“I still have property there.”
Matteo understood.
“The watch collection.”
“And documents for the wedding trust.”
“You can request access.”
“Yes.”
Adeline frowned.
“And she will say no.”
“Then her refusal becomes useful.”
It took twenty minutes for Enzo's attorney to send formal notice that he intended to retrieve personal property from the Ashford residence.
Camilla did not respond.
Victor's lawyer did.
The reply was immediate and aggressive.
All Marchetti property would be inventoried and returned through counsel.
Enzo was not permitted to enter.
Adeline read the message.
“They are scared of something inside.”
“Maybe,” Enzo said.
“Or Victor simply enjoys saying no.”
Lucia approached quietly.
“There may be another way.”
Enzo looked at her.
“What?”
“Margaret gave me a key years ago.”
The room froze.
“To the Ashford house?”
Lucia nodded.
“Why?”
“She told me if anything happened to her, I should give it to Michael Bell.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because she died before I understood what she meant.”
“And Bell disappeared before I decided to ask.”
Adeline stared at her.
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
Matteo rubbed his forehead.
“Of course you do.”
Lucia ignored him.
“It opens an old side entrance from the garden.”
Enzo looked at Adeline.
She knew the question before he asked.
“We still need a lawful reason to enter.”
Adeline looked toward the closed sitting room where Dr. Voss remained with his attorney.
“Maybe we already have one.”
“How?”
“Camilla used the glass.”
“She may have handled the packet.”
“If she took medical material from somewhere, there may be more.”
Enzo nodded.
“We give the key to detectives.”
Matteo looked skeptical.
“Which detectives?”
“Ones not connected to Hale or Price.”
It took another hour.
By seven in the morning, Enzo's attorneys had contacted a state investigative unit outside the city political chain.
They provided the preliminary toxicology result, Emily's statement, security footage, the damaged camera log, and the missing-glass evidence.
No one mentioned the black ledger.
No one mentioned the code sheet.
Some truths still required careful timing.
At eight thirty, investigators arrived at the Marchetti estate.
By ten, they had interviewed Adeline, Emily, Antonio, Matteo, and Enzo.
By eleven fifteen, a judge unaffiliated with Eleanor Price signed a limited search order for Camilla's Gold Coast residence relating to the suspected tampering of Antonio's drink.
Enzo was not permitted inside.
Neither was Adeline.
They waited across the street in a black SUV while investigators entered with Lucia's old key and a locksmith.
For forty minutes, nothing happened.
Adeline watched the front door.
“Do you think she is inside?”
“No.”
“Where do you think she is?”
“With Victor.”
“Where is Victor?”
“If I knew, Matteo would already be there.”
Adeline looked at Enzo.
“You really ended the engagement.”
He turned slightly.
“You are asking now?”
“I am thinking about it now.”
“There is nothing to think about.”
“She was supposed to be your wife in six weeks.”
“Yes.”
“And you ended it in less than a minute.”
Enzo looked through the windshield.
“It took longer than a minute.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew Camilla could be cruel.”
Adeline stared at him.
He continued.
“I told myself it was sharpness.”
“I knew she humiliated staff.”
“I told myself she was demanding.”
“I knew people became nervous around her.”
“I told myself they misunderstood her.”
His mouth tightened.
“Tonight was not the first warning.”
“It was the first one I could no longer rename.”
Adeline looked down at her wrist.
“So I was the line.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You were the person standing there when I finally stopped lying to myself.”
The answer carried no romance.
That made it feel more honest.
A state investigator exited the house and approached their SUV.
Enzo lowered the window.
“We found the medication,” she said.
Adeline sat forward.
“Where?”
“In a locked vanity drawer in Miss Ashford's bedroom.”
“Same substance?” Enzo asked.
“Preliminary packaging matches.”
The investigator's expression remained serious.
“But that is not why I came out.”
Enzo waited.
“We found a hidden room behind the dressing closet.”
Adeline's pulse quickened.
“What is in it?”
“Files.”
“Photographs.”
“Recording equipment.”
The investigator looked directly at Enzo.
“And a live video feed.”
“From where?”
She glanced toward the house.
“Your estate.”
Enzo went still.
“What part?”
“The ballroom.”
“The corridors.”
“The study.”
Adeline felt cold.
The investigator continued.
“And one camera appears to be inside a room we have not identified.”
On the investigator's tablet was a frozen image from the feed.
A man sat tied to a chair in a concrete room.
Adeline grabbed the tablet.
“Daniel.”
Her brother lifted his head on the screen.
Behind him, painted on the wall, was a faded red number.
3.
While investigators searched Camilla's hidden room, they found a second set of recordings unrelated to Enzo's estate.
The state investigator allowed Enzo to view a list of locations without opening the files.
A judge's chambers.
A hospital executive suite.
A hotel dining room.
A private office belonging to Senator Hale.
Adeline stared at the list.
“She recorded all of them.”
“Looks that way,” the investigator said.
“Without their knowledge?”
“That is what we are determining.”
Enzo's expression hardened.
Camilla had spent years moving through elite rooms where people assumed she was ornamental.
She had smiled, listened, and collected leverage.
Adeline remembered the way Camilla had spoken in the corridor.
People like her serve.
People like us decide.
It had sounded like arrogance.
Now Adeline heard something else inside it.
Doctrine.
Camilla believed every relationship had only two positions.
Controller and controlled.
The investigator brought down a small notebook recovered from the hidden room.
Most pages contained dates and initials.
One page contained a heading.
WEDDING CONTINGENCIES.
Enzo's face became still.
The investigator would not let them handle it, but she read several visible lines aloud.
If Antonio delays signature, V4 advances medical event.
If Enzo refuses civil date, release Croft authorization.
If A.C. interferes, remove from house.
Adeline's stomach tightened.
“A.C.”
“Adeline Croft,” Matteo said.
The date on the page was five days before she began working at the mansion.
Adeline stared at it.
Camilla had known.
Not guessed.
Known.
“She expected me before I was hired.”
Enzo's voice was cold.
“Yes.”
The investigator looked at them.
“Who could have told her?”
Adeline thought of the staffing agency.
“My application went through a placement firm.”
Matteo immediately sent the firm name to his team.
Ten minutes later they found the link.
The agency's largest silent investor was a holding company.
That holding company belonged to the Ashford Foundation.
Adeline laughed in disbelief.
“I thought I tricked my way into Enzo's house.”
Enzo looked at the notebook.
“No.”
“Camilla opened the door.”
Adeline's anger sharpened.
“Then she put me in the corridor and punished me for walking through it.”
That realization changed the attack again.
It had been impulsive violence inside a plan that was anything but impulsive.
May you like
Camilla had wanted Adeline close enough to watch.
She had simply never imagined the maid would be the one person in the ballroom willing to take the poisoned glass away.
