Chapter 1 - THE GIRL IN THE POOL
By the time Christopher Pierce reached the pool, his daughter was already sinking.
“EMMA!”
He didn’t think.
He ran.
His shoes hit the wet stone once, twice, then he launched himself into the water.
The cold slammed into him.
Emma’s white dress floated beneath the surface like a ghost.
Christopher dove, grabbed her under the arms, and dragged her up.
“Come on, baby. Come on.”
No response.
He pulled her onto the deck.
Employees poured into the courtyard.
Someone screamed for an ambulance.
Someone else started crying.
Christopher heard none of it.
He pressed his hands against Emma’s chest.
“Breathe.”
Nothing.
“Emma, breathe!”
He gave her another compression.
Then another.
Across the pool, Juliette stood barefoot in a silk robe, one hand pressed dramatically against her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she sobbed. “Chris, I tried. I swear I tried to grab her.”
Christopher kept working.
“Breathe, sweetheart.”
Emma’s body jerked.
She coughed.
Water spilled from her mouth.
Christopher nearly collapsed.
“That’s it. That’s it.”
Emma sucked in air and began to cry.
The sound tore through him harder than any scream.
He pulled her into his arms.
“I’ve got you.”
She clung to his shirt.
“Daddy…”
Christopher closed his eyes.
For three seconds, there was nothing in the world except the fact that she was alive.
Then he looked up.
At Juliette.
She was still crying.
But Christopher saw something in her face now.
Not grief.
Not fear for Emma.
Fear for herself.
He stood slowly.
His shirt dripped onto the stone.
Emma remained behind him, holding his hand.
Juliette stepped closer.
“Chris, she slipped. I told her not to run near the pool. I reached for her, but—”
“Stop.”
His voice was quiet.
Too quiet.
Juliette froze.
Christopher stared at the woman he had planned to marry in six weeks.
Then he said the words that made every person in the courtyard stop breathing.
“You tried to murder my daughter.”
Juliette’s face went white.
“What?”
“For a house you were never going to own.”
“Chris, you’re in shock.”
“No.”
He took one step toward her.
“For the first time in months, I’m thinking clearly.”
Juliette looked around.
The gardener.
The cook.
Two maids.
Security.
Mrs. Yvette Sloan.
Every eye was on her.
Then she saw what Yvette was holding.
A small black recorder.
Juliette’s expression changed.
And Christopher knew.
She recognized it.
Yvette walked forward.
“There’s something else you need to hear, sir.”
Juliette whispered, “Don’t.”
May you like
Christopher took the recorder.
And pressed play.
