Chapter 3 — The Woman Wearing My Emeralds
Chapter 3 — The Woman Wearing My Emeralds
The first thing I did after my father told me not to go to the first resort was call Julian.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
His voice sounded different.
Not confident.
Not angry.
Afraid.
“Where is she?”
Silence.
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Julian.”
“Who?”
“Julianne.”
Another silence.
“She left.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
He exhaled.
“Elena, I don't have time for this.”
“You have plenty of time.”
I looked at the photograph lying on the desk.
Julian beside the stranger.
Seven years ago.
The words on the back still burned in my mind.
HE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
“Who is the man in the photograph?”
Julian didn't answer.
“Julian.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Your safe.”
His breathing changed.
“You opened my safe?”
“It was my safe.”
“No.”
He laughed bitterly.
“Nothing was ever yours, was it?”
I ignored the insult.
“Who is he?”
“You don't want to know.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It is if you understand what you're asking.”
I stood.
“Then I'll ask someone else.”
“Don't.”
The urgency in his voice stopped me.
“Why?”
“Because if you start digging into the first resort, you won't be able to stop.”
“Maybe that's what I want.”
“Elena.”
“What?”
“You think this is about money.”
“Isn't it?”
“No.”
His voice dropped.
“It never was.”
Then he hung up.
I stared at the phone.
For nine years, Julian had made me feel like I was paranoid whenever I asked questions.
Now he had given me the first honest answer he'd given me in years.
It wasn't about money.
That frightened me more than anything else.
At 9:15 that morning, I received an email from the resort security department.
SUBJECT: PROPERTY RECOVERY — PERSONAL ASSETS
I opened it.
The message was brief.
Several items had been recovered from the penthouse.
My grandmother's emerald pendant.
A diamond bracelet.
Two watches.
Three documents.
And a jewelry box.
The items had been found in Julianne's private suite.
I stared at the screen.
She had taken everything she could carry.
But the emerald mattered most.
Not because of its value.
Because my grandmother had never allowed anyone outside our family to touch it.
When I was fourteen, she had placed it in my hands.
I still remembered what she told me.
“Jewels don't protect women.”
I had laughed.
She hadn't.
“Ownership does.”
I hadn't understood then.
I did now.
At 10:02, Julianne called me.
I almost didn't answer.
Then I did.
“What?”
Her breathing was unsteady.
“I need to see you.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“You stole from me.”
“I didn't steal anything.”
“You were wearing my grandmother's necklace.”
“Julian gave it to me.”
“He didn't own it.”
“I didn't know.”
“You didn't ask.”
Silence.
Then she said:
“I know something you don't.”
I sat down.
“What?”
“About Julian.”
“Tell me.”
“Not over the phone.”
“Then don't call again.”
“Wait.”
Her voice cracked.
“He's going to destroy the company.”
I frowned.
“He already lost control of the properties.”
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“He has another company.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Name?”
“Blackwater.”
I froze.
The name meant nothing.
At least not at first.
Then I remembered the black envelope.
The photograph.
The first resort.
“Blackwater what?”
“Blackwater Capital.”
“Who owns it?”
“I don't know.”
“You've been with him for a year.”
“I told you I don't know.”
“You knew enough to take my necklace.”
Her voice became defensive.
“I didn't know it was yours.”
“Everyone knows it's a Vale family heirloom.”
“I didn't.”
“Then what did Julian tell you?”
She didn't answer.
“Julianne.”
“He said it was a gift.”
“What else?”
“He said you didn't matter anymore.”
I closed my eyes.
That sentence should have hurt.
Instead, it made me angry.
“What did he promise you?”
“A future.”
“With what?”
“Everything.”
I almost laughed.
“He promised you an empire he didn't own.”
“I know that now.”
“No.”
I looked at the rain beginning outside.
“You know he lost control.”
“That's not all.”
“What else?”
She whispered:
“He promised me the first resort.”
I drove to a private café across the city.
Julianne was already there.
She looked nothing like the woman from the resort.
No designer confidence.
No smug smile.
No expensive coat.
She wore a gray sweater and kept looking toward the door.
I sat across from her.
“Start talking.”
She swallowed.
“Julian met me two years ago.”
“You said one year.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn't want you to know how long it had been.”
I stared at her.
“Two years.”
“Yes.”
“Were you sleeping with him?”
“Yes.”
“Before I knew?”
“Yes.”
“How many times?”
She looked away.
“Enough.”
I nodded slowly.
“Continue.”
“He told me he was going to divorce you.”
“When?”
“Almost two years ago.”
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“He told me he loved me.”
“I know.”
She looked miserable.
“He told me different things depending on who he was talking to.”
I smiled bitterly.
“That sounds like him.”
“He said the company would be his.”
“But it wasn't.”
“I know.”
“He said the penthouse would be yours.”
“I know.”
“He said the emerald would be yours.”
“I know.”
I leaned closer.
“Then what did you discover?”
Her hands began shaking.
“Three months ago, I found a document.”
“What document?”
“A trust agreement.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“Whose?”
“Your family.”
“Where?”
“In his private office.”
“Why were you there?”
She looked embarrassed.
“He had been drinking.”
“So?”
“I went looking for his passport.”
“And found the document?”
“Yes.”
“What did it say?”
“I don't know everything.”
“Tell me what you remember.”
She closed her eyes.
“Something about beneficial ownership.”
“Of the resorts?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“There was another name.”
“Whose?”
She opened her eyes.
“Your mother's.”
The room seemed to disappear.
“My mother?”
She nodded.
“Her name was on the trust.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
“She was listed as the original beneficiary.”
I stared at her.
“My mother died.”
“I know.”
“Then why would her name be there?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is the document?”
Julianne shook her head.
“Julian took it.”
“Why?”
“He caught me reading it.”
“What happened?”
“He became furious.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
She hesitated.
“He said something.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘That document should have been destroyed twenty years ago.’”
My blood went cold.
Twenty years.
The same period my father had warned me about.
The same period connected to the first resort.
My mother.
The trust.
Julian.
Everything was beginning to connect.
But one piece still didn't fit.
Why had Julian's name appeared in the story seven years ago?
I returned to my father's house that afternoon.
He was waiting in the library.
I placed the photograph on his desk.
“Who is this man?”
My father stared at it.
His expression changed immediately.
“You found this?”
“In Julian's safe.”
He didn't touch it.
“His name is Victor Kane.”
“Who is he?”
“A financier.”
“That's all?”
“No.”
I waited.
My father finally sat down.
“He worked with your mother.”
My heart stopped.
“My mother knew him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he helped finance the first resort.”
I stared at him.
“And Julian?”
My father looked at me.
“Julian was there too.”
“When?”
“Nine years before your marriage.”
I felt dizzy.
“Why would Julian be there?”
“Because he wasn't just an employee.”
“What was he?”
My father looked away.
“Your mother's assistant.”
I laughed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“That can't be.”
“It is.”
“Julian told me he met me at a charity event.”
“He lied.”
I stood.
“Why?”
“Because I told him to.”
I stared at my father.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“You knew him before I married him?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Three years.”
My voice dropped.
“And you let me marry him?”
My father closed his eyes.
“I thought I could control the situation.”
“You couldn't.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
He looked at the photograph.
“Your mother discovered something.”
“What?”
“Money was disappearing from the first resort.”
“From the trust?”
“Yes.”
“Who was stealing it?”
He didn't answer.
I knew immediately.
“Julian?”
My father nodded.
I took a step backward.
“He stole from my family?”
“Not alone.”
“Who else?”
“Victor Kane.”
“And my mother knew?”
“She discovered the transfers.”
“What did she do?”
“She confronted them.”
“And?”
My father looked at me.
“She disappeared.”
I couldn't speak.
For several seconds, I simply stood there.
My mother.
The woman everyone had told me died from a boating accident.
The woman whose photograph had disappeared from our house.
The woman whose name my father almost never mentioned.
She hadn't simply died.
She had discovered something.
And then she had disappeared.
I whispered:
“You told me she died.”
“I know.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of whom?”
My father looked toward the window.
“Victor.”
I felt the room becoming colder.
“Is he still alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Does Julian?”
My father didn't answer.
“Does he?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“Then Julian has known where Victor is this entire time.”
“Probably.”
“And he knew about my mother.”
“Yes.”
“And he knew about the trust.”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“Then why did he marry me?”
My father gave me an answer I wasn't prepared to hear.
“Because he needed access to you.”
That sentence followed me all night.
Not love.
Not ambition.
Access.
I returned to the Azure after midnight.
The lobby was empty.
The chandelier lights were dimmed.
I walked across the marble floor.
The same floor from which I had been thrown out.
But now every employee knew who I was.
A young receptionist approached me.
“Mrs. Vale?”
“Yes?”
“There's something you should know.”
“What?”
She looked around.
“Julianne was here.”
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“Why?”
“She asked for the penthouse.”
“Did she get in?”
“No.”
“Where is she now?”
The receptionist hesitated.
“She left with a man.”
“What man?”
“I don't know.”
“Describe him.”
“Older. Gray hair. Expensive black coat.”
My heart stopped.
“Victor.”
She looked confused.
“Do you know him?”
“Yes.”
I turned toward the elevator.
Then stopped.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Did Julianne say anything?”
The receptionist nodded.
“She said something strange.”
“What?”
“She said she was afraid of the woman wearing the emerald.”
I looked down at my empty hand.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
Neither did I.
But as I entered the elevator, something about the sentence bothered me.
The woman wearing the emerald.
Julianne had worn it.
But perhaps she wasn't the person it referred to.
The elevator opened to the penthouse.
I entered.
The lights came on automatically.
Everything was exactly as we had left it.
Except the black envelope was gone.
The safe was empty.
I walked toward the bedroom.
A sound came from the balcony.
I stopped.
“Who's there?”
No answer.
I moved closer.
The balcony door was open.
Rain blew across the floor.
And on the glass was a message written in condensation.
Three words.
ASK YOUR FATHER.
I stared at it.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
One photograph.
I opened it.
My mother.
Alive.
Standing outside the first Valemont resort.
Beside her was Julian.
And beside Julian was Victor Kane.
The photograph was dated nine years ago.
The same year I married Julian.
My hands began to shake.
A second photograph arrived.
My mother was holding a baby.
A newborn.
I stared at the child's face.
Then at the date.
Nine years ago.
The message beneath it contained only one sentence:
You were never supposed to know she survived.
I couldn't breathe.
My mother had not been alone.
She had been holding a baby.
A child born nine years ago.
A child I had never known existed.
Then another message appeared.
Ask Julian who the child's father is.
I dropped the phone.
The screen remained illuminated on the floor.
My entire understanding of my marriage collapsed in a single instant.
Julian hadn't simply hidden money.
He hadn't simply betrayed me with another woman.
He had hidden my mother.
He had hidden a child.
And somehow, that child was connected to the first resort.
I picked up the phone.
My hands were steadier now.
Because the pain had finally become something else.
Determination.
I called my father.
He answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“At the Azure.”
“Elena, leave.”
“No.”
“Listen to me.”
“No.”
My voice was calm.
“I've seen the photographs.”
Silence.
“You know what I'm talking about.”
My father said nothing.
“Mom survived.”
Still nothing.
“She had a baby.”
His breathing changed.
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
“Who is the father?”
Another silence.
Then he whispered:
“Julian.”
I closed my eyes.
The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
My husband.
My mother's secret child.
The first resort.
The trust.
Victor.
Everything was connected.
And suddenly I understood why Julian had been so terrified when I mentioned the first resort.
It wasn't because he feared losing money.
He feared me discovering the truth about my own family.
A truth he had spent nine years burying.
I looked at the emerald necklace's empty display box on the dresser.
Then at the photograph of my mother.
And for the first time since I had married Julian, I understood exactly what he had stolen from me.
It wasn't the resort.
It wasn't the money.
It wasn't even my grandmother's emerald.
He had stolen nine years of my life by making me believe my family had already lost everything.
But somewhere, my mother was alive.
And somewhere, there was a child who shared Julian's blood.
The question was no longer whether Julian had betrayed me.
The question was:
May you like
How much of my life had been built around a lie?
And before sunrise, I intended to find out.
