Chapter 7 - ROSA’S SECRET
I called Rosa immediately.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
My first thought was betrayal.
I hated myself for it.
Twelve years.
She had watched my mother during chemo.
Held my hand at the funeral.
Stayed overnight when I had pneumonia.
Then I remembered something.
The way she whispered on the phone.
The fear.
The pantry.
“Something’s wrong,” I said.
Naomi nodded.
“We find her before assuming anything.”
Police went to the house.
Rosa was gone.
Her room had been searched.
Her passport missing.
A note sat on the bed.
Mrs. Vale, I am sorry.
That was all.
I stared at the handwriting.
“It’s hers.”
Vanessa looked uncomfortable.
“What if she’s working with them?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t.”
That was the worst part.
I didn’t know anything anymore.
Then Celeste called.
“Claire, get to my office.”
“Why?”
“We found the contract.”
“What contract?”
“The original Moreau-Linden agreement.”
Twenty minutes later, Naomi and I were in Celeste’s archive room.
A conservator laid out the paper.
Hand-typed.
Signed by Elise Moreau and Helen Linden.
My grandmother.
Celeste’s grandmother.
The agreement was simple.
Helen had contributed the emerald motif and jewelry design concept later incorporated into a line that made the Moreau house famous.
In exchange, Helen and her direct female descendants retained a small royalty interest.
Not enough to matter back then.
But the clause had no expiration date.
Celeste’s legal team ran numbers.
I stared at the estimate.
$11.6 million.
Potentially more.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?”
Celeste answered softly.
“Because the payments stopped in 1989.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know.”
Naomi turned a page.
“There was a buyout request.”
Signed by my mother.
Except—
I leaned closer.
“That’s not her signature.”
Naomi looked at me.
“You’re sure?”
“Completely.”
The room went quiet.
Celeste whispered, “Claire… somebody tried to erase your family’s rights thirty-seven years ago.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I answered.
No sound.
Then a whisper.
“Mrs. Vale?”
“Rosa?”
She was crying.
“Don’t call police.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t say.”
“Are you with Adrian?”
“No.”
“Your name is on his flight.”
“I know.”
“What is happening?”
She lowered her voice.
“He stole my passport.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
“To make it look like I left.”
I stood.
“Rosa, where are you?”
There was a sound behind her.
A door.
She whispered fast.
“Your mother knew Graham’s father.”
“What?”
“She told me once. Years ago. She said if anything happened to her papers, look behind the blue tile.”
“Blue tile where?”
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone.
Naomi asked, “What blue tile?”
I knew exactly where.
My mother’s old kitchen.
May you like
The house Adrian had insisted we sell after she died.
The house now owned by Graham Pike.
