flash
The basement was cold, smelling of damp concrete and the metallic tang of Phoebe’s blood. While Russell and Gwendolyn laughed upstairs, clinking champagne glasses to celebrate my "punishment," / Chapter 4 / 10

Chapter 4 - THE ASPEN DECEPTIONRussell paced the small room, his arrogance failing him. "This isn't possible. You're just a school teacher."

"I am a Walton," I said, rising to my feet. "And the woman you think saved you in Aspen? Ask her about the bank statements from the week of the fire. Ask her why the man who set the fire was on her payroll."

I pulled a second device from my bag—a live audio-visual feed that Grant had sent to my phone. It showed Gwendolyn’s private assistant, under interrogation in a basement of our own, detailing exactly how Gwendolyn had hired a pyrotechnic expert to stage the accident.

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The heavy mahogany door of the east gallery closed softly behind me, but the silence inside did not comfort me. It pressed down like lead.

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The cool marble of the private east gallery felt chilling beneath my fingertips. The pale moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated The Blue Woman, the haunting masterpiece my mother had painted just weeks before her tragic death.

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