Chapter 3 - The Gift That Wasn't
The next morning, Ellen came down to the kitchen wearing a loose cotton cardigan and loose trousers. She walked slowly, leaning slightly on the kitchen island to take the weight off her bruised knee.
“Morning, Robert,” she said softly, avoiding my eyes as she reached for the coffee pot. Her fingers were still slightly stiff. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I slept fine, sweetheart,” I said, stepping up to take the coffee pot from her hands and pouring the cup for her myself. “How’s your knee?”
“It’s... it’s better. Just a little stiff from the weather,” she lied, offering a fragile, tight-lipped smile that broke my heart all over again. She hated lying, and she was terrible at it. The guilt of carrying secrets—even secrets forced upon her by others—always weighed like lead on her shoulders.
I set the mug down in front of her and pulled out the chair opposite her, sitting down so I could look directly into her eyes.
“Ellen,” I said, my voice steady and gentle. “What was in the box?”
She froze halfway to taking a sip. The mug rattled against the ceramic saucer. Her breath hitched, and the fragile composure she had maintained for two days cracked right down the middle.
“What box?” she whispered, staring into the dark coffee.
“The box you were holding in the hallway at the venue. The one Cassandra slapped out of your hands.”
Tears welled instantly in Ellen’s eyes, spilling over her lashes and tracking down her cheeks. She didn’t try to wipe them away. She slumped slightly in her chair, covering her face with her hands as a shuddering sob wracked her slender frame.
“It was... it was my mother’s pocket watch,” she choked out through her fingers. “Gold-plated. Engraved with her initials. My father gave it to me on my wedding day. I... I wanted Michael to have it to give to Cassandra as a welcoming family heirloom. I thought... I thought it would make her feel accepted. I thought it would bridge the gap between our families.”
My jaw tightened until the bone ached. A family heirloom. A piece of history, sentiment, and genuine love, offered in good faith to a woman whose heart was made of cold stone.
“And what did Cassandra do with it?” I asked, keeping my voice terrifyingly calm.
“She called it tacky,” Ellen whispered, her voice breaking entirely. “She said antique junk didn't match the aesthetic of their new penthouse. And when I tried to pick it up... Michael told me to stop making a scene and get out of their sight before the photographer saw us looking pathetic.”
I reached across the table, taking Ellen’s trembling, bruised hand in both of mine. I stroked her knuckles gently with my thumb.
“You aren’t pathetic, Ellen,” I said, every word weighted with absolute steel. “You are the strongest, most decent person I have ever known. And I am so sorry I wasn’t there the moment it happened.”
She looked up, alarm flashing in her tear-filled eyes. “Robert... why are you asking about this? You didn't... you didn’t call them, did you? Please tell me you didn't start a fight with Michael. It’s their honeymoon week, they’re in St. Lucia, they’re supposed to be—”
“They aren’t in St. Lucia anymore, Ellen,” I interrupted quietly.
She blinked, confused. “What do you mean? Their flight left Sunday morning.”
“Their flight was canceled,” I lied smoothly, keeping the truth of the security footage and the frozen accounts safely locked away for now. “The resort had a booking error. They’re coming back early. In fact, I expect we’ll be hearing from them very soon.”
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Ellen frowned, a flicker of maternal anxiety crossing her features—that cursed, bottomless well of forgiveness that mothers always seemed cursed with. “Oh... poor Michael. He must be so frustrated. Maybe we should send—'
“No, Ellen,” I interrupted, standing up from the table and kissing the top of her head. “We aren’t sending them a thing. Finish your coffee. I have some business to attend to in the city.”
