Chapter 2 - Blood on White Silk
The cold air from the hallway rushed into my apartment, but it was nothing compared to the ice that froze my veins the moment Chloe collapsed across the threshold.
The $9,000 French lace gown—the one we had spent three emotional weekends fitting in Manhattan—was shredded at the bodice. Red ribbons of blood welled from long, jagged fingernail scratches across her collarbone. Her left wrist was already swelling to the size of a tennis ball, mottled with purple and blue fingermarks.
"Chloe! Oh God, baby, look at me!" I fell to my knees on the hardwood, pulling her shaking body into my arms.
She wasn't crying loudly; she was hyperventilating, choking on silent, ragged gasps that shook her entire frame. Her veil was gone. Her hair, which had been pinned into an intricate bridal chignon just hours ago, was matted with sweat and dark dried blood near the crown of her head.
"Mom..." Her voice cracked, barely a whisper. "Lock the door. Please. Lock the door. They're coming."
I didn't ask questions. I reached behind me, slammed the heavy oak door shut, turned the deadbolt, and fastened the security chain with trembling hands. My heart was hammering so hard against my ribs I could hear the pulse roaring in my ears.
I scooped her up. She weighed almost nothing, shivering uncontrollably. I carried her to the sofa, grabbed the cashmere throw from the armchair, and wrapped her tight. When I tried to gently inspect her injured wrist, she flinched violently, letting out a sharp, guttural sob.
"Who did this?" I demanded, my voice dropping to a low, deadly tremor. "Chloe, tell me right now. Did Lewis do this to you?"
She shook her head frantically, then nodded, her breath hitching. "Both of them. Mom... both of them."
"What happened at the hotel?"
The reception had ended at midnight at the Grandview Manor. I had kissed Chloe goodbye near the limousine around twelve-thirty. Lewis had smiled his perfect, pearly smile, draped his arm around her waist, and promised me, *Don't worry, Sarah, I'll take care of her for the rest of her life.*
"We got to the suite," Chloe whispered, her eyes wide and bloodshot, staring at the ceiling as if reliving the nightmare second by second. "Lewis said he wanted to toast before we unpacked. He poured two glasses of champagne. But when the door opened, it wasn't room service. It was Victoria."
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My jaw clenched until my teeth ached. "Victoria was in your honeymoon suite?"
"She had a manila envelope with her," Chloe said, a tear cutting a clean track through the dirt and smeared mascara on her cheek. "She threw it on the glass table. She said the ceremony was over, the public performance was done, and now it was time for business. Mom, she had a Quitclaim Deed. She wanted me to sign the penthouse over to a trust under Lewis's name."
