Chapter 2 - Before Anyone Leaves
Isabella reached Abigail first.
“Please don’t bend down again.”
She held out both hands. Abigail took them because her legs had started shaking too badly to hide.
Vanessa glanced at the cameras.
“This has gotten ridiculous.”
Abigail looked at her.
The words came out before fear could stop them.
“You hit me.”
Vanessa blinked, almost offended by the plainness of it.
“I reacted.”
“You hit me because you knew nobody would stop you.”
A murmur moved through the guests.
Richard stepped between them.
“Miss Foster, clearly this was a misunderstanding. My office will cover your medical expenses.”
Matteo turned toward him.
“She hasn’t asked you for money.”
“I’m trying to resolve the situation.”
“Then stop talking over her.”
A cramp tightened beneath Abigail’s belly.
She caught her breath.
Isabella noticed immediately.
“Abigail?”
“I’m okay.”
“You don’t have to say that.”
Another tightening came, stronger this time.
Matteo motioned to his security director.
“Call an ambulance.”
“No.” Abigail’s voice sharpened. “I can’t afford—”
“Call it,” Isabella said.
Then she looked back at Abigail.
“We’ll handle the bill. You decide everything else.”
That distinction nearly broke her.
For months, every offer of help had come with instructions.
Sit here. Sign this. Be grateful. Don’t make trouble.
A hotel manager hurried toward them.
“Mr. Romano, perhaps we could use a private room.”
“Preserve the security footage,” Matteo told him. “Every camera covering this ballroom and the service corridor.”
The manager hesitated.
Richard noticed.
So did Abigail.
Matteo’s voice dropped.
“That was a complete sentence.”
The manager reached for his radio.
Abigail touched Isabella’s arm.
“My bag. It’s in the staff room.”
“I’ll get someone.”
“No. I need it.”
Her bag held her identification, forty-three dollars, a half-finished packet of crackers, and the last letter her husband had written her.
She couldn’t lose anything else tonight.
As a server brought the bag, Richard stepped close enough that only Abigail could hear.
“This doesn’t have to become ugly.”
She looked at his polished face.
It took a second to place him without the newspaper photograph.
Then she remembered the letterhead.
Sinclair Freight.
The company where her husband had worked.
Richard followed her gaze to the wedding ring hanging on a chain around her neck.
Something flickered in his eyes.
Before Abigail could speak, a phone rang beside them.
Richard answered quietly.
“Yes?”
A pause.
May you like
Then, lower:
“What do you mean, the footage is already gone?”
