Chapter 3 - The Interrogation
Adeline remained standing near the threshold, her instincts screaming that sitting down in the presence of Alio Vicaro was a boundary she shouldn't cross. "I'm fine standing, sir. Thank you."
Alio looked at her for a long moment, then stepped away from the window and walked over to one of the plush leather armchairs near the fire. He didn't sit either. Instead, he leaned against the side of his heavy mahogany desk, crossing his arms.
"Your wrist," he said, gesturing toward the white bandage. "What did the doctor say?"
"Birdie looked at it, sir. She said it's just a bad sprain. It will be fine in a few days."
"A doctor will look at it tomorrow morning," Alio said, leaving no room for argument. "And you will take the next three days off, fully paid."
"Sir, please," Adeline pleaded, her hands trembling. "I can still work. I can clean with one hand. I need to work. My sister—"
"I am not punishing you, Miss Vance," Alio interrupted smoothly. His tone wasn't warm, but it possessed an absolute authority that instantly quieted her panic. "I am ensuring you heal properly. Now, tell me what happened in the gallery."
Adeline swallowed hard. She remembered Camille’s cold green eyes watching her climb that ladder, the warning she had given, and the terrifying moment the wood gave way. But she also knew who Camille Thorne was: the daughter of Senator Thorne, a powerful political ally whose backing Alio allegedly needed for his legitimate shipping expansions.
"I was cleaning the high moldings," Adeline said carefully, choosing her words like stepping stones across a rushing river. "I lost my footing."
Alio’s eyes narrowed slightly. "You lost your footing? Or the ladder broke?"
"The ladder broke, sir. It was an old piece of equipment. I should have checked it more thoroughly before climbing."
Alio took a slow step toward her. The air in the room suddenly seemed to grow tighter. "Do not take responsibility for things that are not your fault, Adeline. It is a dangerous habit." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small piece of dark, splintered wood—a section from the broken rung of the ladder.
He held it out toward the firelight.
Adeline stared at it. Even from three feet away, she could see the clean, straight edge where the wood had split. It wasn't a jagged, natural fracture caused by sudden weight.
"This rung was sawed halfway through from the underside," Alio said, his voice dropping an octave into a tone that chilled her to the bone. "A small hand saw, likely pulled twice across the grain. Just enough so that it would hold the weight of someone standing still, but snap the moment they shifted their weight to reach upward."
Adeline gasped, stepping back until her spine hit the library door. "Sawed?"
"Someone in this house wanted an accident to happen tonight," Alio said, looking past her toward the doorway. "And they didn't care who fell."
Before Adeline could process the horror of his words, the library door clicked open behind her.
May you like
Camille Thorne walked into the room, holding a freshly poured glass of red wine. Her expression was perfectly serene, her designer dress unruffled, though her eyes flicked sharply toward Adeline before settling on Alio.
"Alio, darling," Camille said smoothly, her heels clicking against the parquet floor. "The servants are gossiping down in the pantry. Don't you think it's time you sent this girl home? She's ruined enough of our evening already."
