Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The greenhouse was dim, but moonlight streamed through the Victorian glass panels overhead, illuminating the exotic plants in silvery light.
It was actually beautiful—romantic in an unexpected way.
Richard’s trilliums were visible in the central display, their white petals luminous against dark foliage.
I felt along the wall for the light switch I’d noticed during previous visits, finding it and flipping it up.
Nothing happened. The bulbs must be out.
“Dominic?” I called out softly. My voice echoed in the glass space.
No answer. Maybe the library clues were longer, taking him on a more complicated route before leading here. I moved deeper into the greenhouse, toward the central display. My dress shoes clicked on decorative tiles—Victorian-era design in intricate, geometric patterns of blue and gold.
“Leo.”
The voice came from behind me, near the entrance. I spun around, heart jumping.
Adelaide stood silhouetted in the doorway, backlit by the corridor light before she stepped fully inside and closed the door behind her.
She wore an elegant vintage dress from the seventies—light, pastel yellow with a flowing skirt and classic-Rome wrapping at the midriff, perfectly tailored to her frame.
Her silver hair was styled in soft waves, jewelry understated but expensive, posture as regal as always.
“Adelaide,” I said, startled. “What are you doing here?”
She moved closer, her heels clicking purposefully on the tiles. “The scavenger hunt. It was my idea. Very romantic, yes?”
“Yes. I’m meeting Dominic—”
“No, you’re not.” Adelaide’s smile was sharp, wrong somehow in the moonlight.
“But—“
“He’s probably being led outside right about now,” she continued. She must have seen the confusion on my face because she smiled and looked down at the envelope in my hand. “I forged your card. I’ve gotten quite good at it.”
Instinctively, I pulled out the card and looked at it again. The handwriting was elegant, professional—exactly like all the other materials from the centennial celebration. The paper quality matched, the envelope style identical. I hadn’t thought to question it.
“It’s very easy when you’re one of the primary organizers and have access to all the materials,” Adelaide continued, watching my realization dawn.
My hand moved unconsciously to my belly. “Adelaide, what—”
“You’ve been very persistent in your investigation.
” She continued moving, circling around me slowly, and I realized with sick certainty that she was positioning herself between me and the only exit.
“Too persistent. I knew weeks ago you were getting close to the truth. The questions you were asking, the people you were talking to. I tried to warn you off—but you wouldn’t stop. ”
“Adelaide, I don’t know what you think I—”
“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Her voice hardened, losing all pretense of civility. “You know I killed Thomas Wong. You’ve figured it out. Richard gave you the letter, didn’t he?”
“You forged Thomas’ letter,” I said, the realization striking me harder than any physical blow could have.
Not Henry Fairfax. Adelaide.
“The notes and graffiti. That was you.” I said. It wasn’t a question. “The text messages that Blake said he didn’t send—”
It had been Adelaide all along.
Raw terror poured through my connection with my alpha, unfiltered and overwhelming. His felt his awareness sparked to life—acute and instantaneous. He knew something was wrong. He would come searching for me.
“Why?” The question came out loud in the silence surrounding us.
“Because he was going to destroy everything I’d worked for.
” She stopped circling, facing me directly.
“My engagement to Vivienne Cabot, my entrance into Boston society, my escape from my father’s shadow.
The scandal of my engaged brother impregnating his immigrant paramour would have ruined it all. ”
“So you killed him.” My voice shook with horror and rage. “You killed him and his baby—”
“I eliminated a problem that threatened my future.” Adelaide’s expression was chillingly matter-of-fact.
“Thomas gave Richard an ultimatum—two weeks to expose my father’s money laundering operation or he’d do it himself.
That exposure would have revealed everything.
Richard’s relationship with Thomas, the pregnancy, all of it.
The scandal would have destroyed both of our engagements.
Radcliffe would have rescinded my acceptance once they learned I came from a family embroiled in financial crime and sexual scandal.
Everything I’d worked for—it would have all disappeared. ”
“You hid it all those years...” I shook my head, trying to comprehend the enormity of it. “And then you just went on with your life…” Like nothing had happened.
How could you live with that kind of secret?
“And then your alpha and his cousin and all those vultures came swooping in, clawing at the District brick by brick.” Adelaide’s laugh cut through the air.
“The pendulum seemed to swing back my way when Dominic and his cousin seized control. Then, Vertex just had to have the last laugh by tearing down the pharmacy.”
“You tricked Thomas too, didn’t you?” Adelaide moved closer and I backed away, my heel catching on an uneven tile. “To get him to come to the pharmacy that night.”
“I sent him a note—forged Richard’s handwriting.” Adelaide’s voice took on an almost nostalgic quality. “Said Richard had decided to choose him, to run away together, to leave all the mess behind. Said to meet at the pharmacy construction site at midnight.”
She shrugged. “I overheard him give my brother the ultimatum—they had a habit of having their little trysts in the greenhouse. That’s how I knew about the affair too.”
I felt sick. “You used his love for Richard against him.”
“I used whatever tools were necessary. He arrived at midnight, expecting Richard to be there. Instead, he found me with one of Father’s hunting knives. He was confused at first, then frightened. He tried to run, but I caught him near the construction area.”
“He was twenty-four years old,” I said, rage and horror warring in my chest. “Pregnant. Unarmed.”
“It was quick,” Adelaide confirmed clinically.
“He died within minutes. Then I wrapped the body in construction tarp and hid it in one of the foundation holes they’d dug for the pharmacy.
I bricked up the hole myself. Spent hours making it look like part of the original foundation work.
Then I paid the head foreman five thousand dollars in cash to not ask questions.
Another three thousand after the concrete was poured. ”
“And the others?” I asked, thinking of all the other players.
“Knew nothing,” Adelaide said dismissively with a shrug of one shoulder.
“Vicente focused on his money laundering. The Judge was too drunk and preoccupied with chasing his latest conquest to notice anything. Robert Winslow did legitimate work—he had no idea what was buried beneath his pharmacy. The only person who had even an inkling was the foreman, and he died in 1985 with his mouth shut and his pockets full of my money.”
She’d done everything herself. Planned it, executed it, covered it up. All to protect her social standing.
“I went home, burned my clothing in the estate fireplace, and mailed the letter to Richard the next morning. I’d practiced weeks to make sure the writing matched. Then I buried Father’s hunting knife in the woods behind the estate.”
“And everyone believed Thomas just left,” I said. “You let Richard believe Thomas left him.”
“Richard married Caroline as expected of him, raised a family, ran Father’s business. If I’d let Thomas expose the operation, Richard would have been arrested alongside Father and branded a criminal and a deviant. I saved him from that.”
“You murdered the man he loved and his unborn child,” I said, my voice shaking.
She stepped forward again. My body instinctively backed away.
Through our connection, I sensed Dominic’s frustration. My panic was rushing to him in waves. He was looking for me. I knew he was looking for me. Would he find me in time?
“Acceptable losses for the greater good.” Adelaide’s voice turned cold. “Now, Leo, I need you to understand something very important about your current situation. Don’t move.”
I froze. Belatedly, I realized she had herded me like a chess piece across the greenhouse floor. “What—”
“You’re standing on a pressure-sensitive trigger.” Adelaide’s smile was sharp. “The tile beneath your foot is rigged to the roof structure. Step off that plate, and the greenhouse collapses. You die. Your baby dies.”
I looked down. The decorative tile beneath my foot looked identical to all the others. But Adelaide’s warning froze me in place, terror flooding my system.
“I’ve been planning this for weeks,” Adelaide continued conversationally. “Ever since I realized you wouldn’t stop investigating. The greenhouse was already in disrepair—genuinely unsafe according to structural engineers. Made it easy for me to make it much more unsafe.”
She gestured up at the glass roof. In the moonlight, I could see the glass panels, held in place by an elaborate framework of iron and steel. Beautiful and delicate and utterly deadly if it fell.
“The original construction used a complex pulley system with counterweights,” Adelaide explained, her voice taking on a lecturer’s tone.
“Heavy glass panels suspended by cables running through the iron framework, balanced by counterweights in the walls. Very sophisticated for the 1880s. The pressure plates were part of the estate’s security—electromagnets and wires.
Step on the wrong tile and alarms would sound.
My grandfather was paranoid about intruders. ”