Chapter Ninety-Three Adrianna
Chapter Ninety-three
ADRIANNA
When I saw the blood on the sand, I knew. I just knew. I even knew where Dad would go.
It was hard to run in the dress, and halfway up the hill, I ripped away the long train, and threw it into the jungle undergrowth.
Somewhere behind, I heard Mark’s voice. Guess he must have finally pulled himself together.
Because honestly, Mark was next to useless, standing open-mouthed on the beach, while Georgia and Ophelia worked out a plan.
I made it into Fortune House, my dress dragging over the herringbone floors. I wasn’t sure it would fit in the elevator, so I took the stairs. By the time I reached the door of the Tower Suite, sweat was pouring down the sides of my face.
I thought I could hear his voice, on the other side of the door. But as I throw it open, Dad isn’t here. It’s just Holly. A strange look on her round face.
I follow the direction of her gaze. There’s blood in the water, on the edge of the infinity pool. A flash of red that flows away and out of sight.
Dad has gone.
I knew it already, I realize. Before I opened the door, or entered the house, or even left the beach.
I close my eyes and sink to the floor of my honeymoon suite, the fifty-thousand-dollar bridal gown pooling around me. Dad always talked about the importance of family.
He was right. I’d give up all of it. Every last designer gown. Every multi-million-dollar sponsorship contract. Every pretty picture. I’d give it all up for one last minute with him.
I’m crying. Holly moves closer, looking uncertain.
‘I knew he’d come here,’ I tell her, wiping my cheeks. ‘His whole goddamn domain, laid out before him. Why? Why didn’t he say goodbye?’
Holly chews at her lip piercing uncertainly, then speaks.
‘He didn’t want you to see,’ she says. ‘But he loved you, Adrianna. Right until the end. That’s more than a lot of us can say about their dads,’ she adds wryly.
I don’t know how long I sit sobbing, but I’m suddenly aware of Holly kneeling at my side.
She picks up the hem of my big dress, and holds it out for me to wipe away the tears.
Using a couture gown as a handkerchief is such a Holly thing to do, I actually laugh.
Wipe at my eyes with the silken material. Guess it doesn’t really matter anymore.
‘For what it’s worth,’ says Holly, ‘I think it was your dad’s final gift to you.’
I dab at my face, swallow hot tears. ‘How?’ I demand.
‘If your dad shot Petra,’ she says, ‘then the crime dies with him.’
I open my mouth and shut it again. A weird laugh comes out.
But actually, she has a point. Ophelia will agree to anything I ask her.
Georgia’s version of the truth has always been based on what looks good in the popular press.
Mark … Mark didn’t see, did he? It’s a good plan, were it not for one obvious issue: Holly.
‘You’re not about to say that to the police, are you?’ I say, finally.
She considers. ‘Simone always thought perception and truth were two sides of the same coin.’ Holly moves to the edge of the pool. ‘Maybe he slipped,’ she says. ‘Slipped and fell.’
I stand, shakily, the dress resisting my movements. Walk thoughtfully to the edge of the pool. Water begins soaking into the hem of my skirts. The morning sun throws purple and pink shades onto the clouds. Elysium always did get the most beautiful mornings. I never quite appreciated that until now.
‘Dad would have wanted a very dramatic death,’ I decide. ‘A clifftop tussle with his long-term mistress. Maybe even pushed to his doom by one of my bridesmaids.’ My eyes track to Holly. ‘That would fit the family brand, wouldn’t it?’
Holly doesn’t reply.
I wipe a tear. ‘I’m glad he didn’t go that way,’ I say. ‘I’m glad it was just a tragic accident. We can have a peaceful life now. Less drama.’