Chapter 1 - THE PUSH
“You should never have come back here.”
Eleanor Whitmore’s voice was barely louder than the music drifting through the ballroom.
But Claire Bennett heard every word.
Claire stood near the stone railing of the Whitmore estate’s upper terrace, surrounded by chandeliers, champagne glasses, and more than a hundred guests who had no idea why she had really returned.
She stared at Eleanor.
“Why are you afraid of me?”
Eleanor’s face hardened.
“I am not afraid of you.”
“Then tell Ethan the truth.”
For the first time that evening, Eleanor lost control.
Her fingers closed around Claire’s wrist.
“Let go of me!”
Several guests turned.
Claire tried to pull free.
Eleanor glanced toward the ballroom doors.
Ethan was speaking with two investors twenty feet away.
He had not seen them yet.
“You had your chance to disappear.”
Eleanor leaned closer.
“I made sure your mother understood that.”
Claire froze.
“My mother?”
A cold smile touched Eleanor’s lips.
“She understood eventually.”
Claire’s breath caught.
“My mother died in a car accident.”
“Is that what they told you?”
Claire stared at her.
Then Eleanor shoved her.
Claire hit the railing.
Her heel slipped.
A woman screamed.
“Oh my God, she pushed her!”
Claire disappeared over the edge.
For one horrifying second, there was only silence.
Then another scream came from below.
Ethan turned.
“Claire!”
He ran.
Claire had fallen onto a decorative ledge several feet beneath the terrace.
One hand clung desperately to the stone.
Her legs hung over a thirty-foot drop.
“Someone help her, please!”
A maid rushed toward the railing.
Ethan climbed over it without hesitation.
“Hold on, I’m coming!”
“Ethan.”
Claire’s voice was weak.
“I’ve got you.”
He lowered himself onto the ledge.
“I’ve got you.”
Claire tried to breathe.
“I can’t breathe.”
“Look at me.”
Ethan wrapped one arm around her.
“Stay with me.”
Then he looked up at the guests.
“Call the police.”
Eleanor stepped backward.
Her face had gone white.
But Claire was no longer looking at her.
Her eyes had fallen on something beneath the terrace.
Half-hidden behind an old stone column was a rusted metal door.
And scratched into its surface were three letters.
C.B.W.
Claire Bennett Whitmore.
May you like
Her full birth name.
A name she had never told anyone in this house.
