Chapter 4 - The Grave Beneath the RosesCharles Sterling died in 2012.
Too small, Lena thought.
A linen cart had somehow ignited in an empty service corridor. Sprinklers contained the flames before firefighters arrived.
No injuries.
Minimal damage.
Perfect distraction.
By midnight, the gala guests had gone home carrying one irresistible story: Evelyn Sterling had collapsed after recognizing a waitress’s necklace.
By 7:00 the next morning, Lena’s face was online.
MYSTERY WAITRESS STUNS STERLING DYNASTY.
SECRET HEIRESS?
WHO IS LENA CALDER?
Her landlord called.
Her manager called.
Three reporters waited downstairs from her apartment.
Lena closed the curtains.
Her best friend, Tasha Reed, handed her coffee.
“You are trending.”
“I don’t want to trend.”
“Unfortunately, America has voted.”
Lena groaned.
Tasha sat beside her.
“You believe her?”
“I believe the pendants matched.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Lena stared at her mother’s photograph on the bookshelf.
Marion at thirty-one, holding eight-year-old Lena beside a birthday cake.
Same dark hair.
Same stubborn chin.
But now Lena saw details differently.
The elegant bone structure.
The posture.
The eyes.
Sterling eyes.
“I don’t know what I believe.”
A knock came.
Tasha grabbed a baseball bat.
Lena glanced at her.
“Why do you own that?”
“Because unlike rich people, we don’t have security.”
Lena checked the peephole.
Jonathan Sterling stood outside alone.
She opened the door two inches.
“No lawyers?”
“No.”
“Guards?”
“In the car.”
“That counts.”
“I can send them away.”
Lena opened the door.
Jonathan looked around the modest apartment and saw Marion’s photographs.
His expression softened.
“I never met her.”
Lena folded her arms.
“Apparently half your family pretended she didn’t exist.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
He handed Lena a thick folder.
Inside were photographs.
Marion at five.
Marion horseback riding at fourteen.
Marion graduating high school.
Marion standing beside Evelyn at a Christmas party.
Lena sat down.
The resemblance was undeniable.
In one photograph, Marion wore the jade pendant.
Tasha whispered, “Okay. That’s your mom.”
Lena touched the picture.
“How could somebody erase their own daughter?”
Jonathan sat across from her.
“My grandfather was complicated.”
“That’s a wealthy person’s word for cruel.”
Jonathan accepted the hit.
“Probably.”
He pulled out another document.
“This is Marion’s birth certificate.”
Lena read it.
Marion Elise Sterling.
Born May 17, 1971.
Parents Charles Sterling and Beatrice Sterling.
She pressed a hand to her mouth.
“My mother died without telling me any of this.”
“There may have been a reason.”
“She had cancer. She knew she was dying.”
Jonathan hesitated.
“That makes me think the reason frightened her more than death.”
Lena looked at him.
“Your mother said she knows where your grandfather buried something.”
Jonathan nodded.
“She won’t tell me what.”
“Why?”
“She says she’ll only tell you.”
Lena laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“Lena.”
“What?”
“My mother isn’t trying to manipulate you.”
“You’ve known her your whole life. I’ve known her twelve hours.”
“Fair.”
Jonathan stood.
“But someone stole that note. Someone started a fire to do it. If Marion spent thirty years hiding the pendant, maybe we should find out why.”
Tasha interrupted.
“Question.”
Jonathan looked at her.
“Does your family own private islands?”
“No.”
“Hitmen?”
Jonathan blinked.
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Comforting.”
Lena almost smiled.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then an elderly male voice spoke.
“Your mother should have thrown that necklace into the river.”
Lena stood.
“Who is this?”
Jonathan’s expression changed.
The caller continued.
“She was offered a chance to walk away thirty years ago.”
“From what?”
“She chose badly.”
Lena switched to speaker.
Jonathan began recording.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
The man laughed softly.
“You sound like your grandfather.”
Jonathan froze.
The caller ignored him.
“Miss Calder, listen carefully. Take the pendant to Pier 17 tonight at eleven. Come alone.”
“Why?”
“Because if you keep digging, you’ll learn something about your mother you cannot forgive.”
The line went dead.
Tasha stared at the phone.
“We’re calling the police.”
“No,” Jonathan said.
Both women looked at him.
He pointed at the number.
“They mentioned my grandfather.”
“So?”
“My grandfather had protection at every level of the city thirty years ago. If this involves people who worked for him, we need to know who we can trust.”
Lena walked to the window.
Outside, reporters stood behind barricades.
Her old life was already gone.
She looked again at Marion’s photograph.
“What exactly did my mother discover?”
Jonathan answered quietly.
“Last night, after you left, my mother opened a safe that hadn’t been touched in fourteen years.”
He handed Lena another photograph.
It showed an old newspaper clipping.
STERLING ACCOUNTANT DANIEL CALDER DIES IN HIGHWAY CRASH.
Beneath it, handwritten in red ink, were four words.
THE CRASH WASN’T AN ACCIDENT.
Lena’s fingers went numb.
“My father…”
Jonathan nodded.
“Someone may have killed him.”
A new knock hit the door.
Three hard impacts.
Tasha raised the bat.
Jonathan moved in front of Lena.
“Who is it?”
A woman answered from the hallway.
“Margaret Shaw.”
Jonathan relaxed slightly.
Lena opened the door.
Margaret entered carrying a small metal box.
Her face was pale.
“Mrs. Sterling sent me.”
Jonathan frowned.
“With what?”
Margaret placed the box on the table.
“She finally remembered what Marion meant.”
Lena stared.
“About where her father buried it?”
Margaret nodded.
“Your grandfather didn’t bury money.”
“What did he bury?”
May you like
Margaret looked directly at Lena.
“A body.”
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