Chapter 3 - The Woman Wearing My Bracelet
I knew the police would think I was lying.
That realization came before the fear.
Before the anger.
Before I understood just how carefully someone had constructed the evidence against me.
The woman on the recording was wearing my uniform.
My shoes.
My bracelet.
And she was carrying the bottle someone had tried to get Dominic Rinaldi to drink.
"Play it again."
Gabriel replayed the footage.
The woman entered the corridor.
Her body angled away from the camera.
Her hair covered most of her face.
She disappeared toward the private wine reserve.
The timestamp read 8:41:17.
I watched it three times.
Then I noticed something.
"Stop."
Gabriel paused the video.
"Go back two seconds."
He did.
"Her left foot."
Dominic moved closer.
"What about it?"
"She steps down hard on her heel."
Gabriel frowned.
"Meaning?"
"I had surgery on my left ankle when I was sixteen."
I lifted my foot slightly.
"There's a metal plate."
"I don't walk like that after a long shift."
Gabriel studied me.
"Could you demonstrate?"
I took three steps.
The familiar stiffness appeared in my stride.
I hated that I was grateful for an old injury.
Then I pointed at the screen.
"And look at her shoulder."
Dominic leaned forward.
"The tray?"
"Yes."
"She's carrying it level with her right hand."
"So?"
"I'm left-handed."
I showed them the small burn scar beside my right thumb.
"I can carry a bottle in either hand, but I balance a full tray on my left."
Gabriel's eyes moved toward the recording again.
"That doesn't prove it's not you."
"No."
I swallowed.
"But it proves someone may have tried to look like me."
Dominic stepped aside.
"Miss Bennett, when did your bracelet disappear?"
"Three days ago."
"Did you report it?"
"To Paul."
The restaurant manager had remained near the door.
Now he looked as though he wanted to dissolve into the wallpaper.
Dominic turned.
"Mr. Mercer."
Paul's lips trembled.
"Yes?"
"Did Miss Bennett report a missing bracelet?"
"She mentioned it."
"When?"
"Friday afternoon."
"What did you do?"
"I told her we would check the lost-and-found."
"Did you?"
Paul swallowed.
"We were very busy."
Dominic stared at him.
"Convenient."
"I didn't know anything about this."
"Nobody has accused you yet."
The word yet hung between them.
Then Dominic looked back at me.
"Where were you at 8:41?"
"The kitchen."
"Doing what?"
"Picking up the second course."
"Who saw you?"
"Chef Laurent."
Paul shook his head.
"Chef Laurent left early."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"He had a family emergency."
"When?"
"Eight thirty."
My stomach dropped.
I remembered the kitchen.
The empty plating station.
The junior chef giving me the dishes.
"Nina."
Dominic looked at me.
"Who?"
"Nina Park."
"She's the pastry chef's assistant."
"She handed me the plates."
Gabriel was already typing.
"Get her statement."
Paul looked toward the door.
"She went home."
"Then find her."
Dominic's patience was visibly thinning.
And something else was happening.
The more people talked, the more I understood that the fake video wasn't an improvised attempt to protect whoever had handled the wine.
It had been prepared.
My bracelet had disappeared three days earlier.
Someone knew my schedule.
Someone knew my uniform.
Someone had selected a camera angle that would hide the face.
And all of that had happened before I'd translated a single word of Dominic's contract.
Which meant the person framing me had expected me to become a problem.
Or had intended to use me for a different purpose from the beginning.
"Why me?" I whispered.
Dominic heard.
He looked at me for a long moment.
"That's the question we're going to answer."
Celeste stood abruptly.
"I am finished with this."
She reached for her purse.
Gabriel moved aside, leaving the doorway clear.
"You're free to leave, Mrs. Rinaldi."
Dominic didn't stop her.
Celeste looked surprised.
Then relieved.
She took two steps toward the door.
And Dominic spoke again.
"One thing before you go."
She turned.
"What?"
"Did you know Mara Bennett before tonight?"
Celeste laughed.
"Of course not."
"Never met her?"
"No."
"Never heard her name?"
"No."
Dominic nodded.
"Interesting."
He picked up a printed staff schedule lying on the sideboard.
"Then why did your assistant request that Miss Bennett personally serve this room?"
Celeste stopped.
For the first time, I saw fear pass across her face.
Not irritation.
Not wounded pride.
Fear.
"I didn't arrange the staffing."
"Your assistant did."
"Take it up with her."
"I will."
He turned the paper toward her.
"The request was submitted nine days ago."
Celeste's face hardened.
"Then perhaps my assistant likes organized service."
Dominic looked at me.
"Miss Bennett, have you served my private events before?"
"Never."
"Did anyone ask about your education when you were hired?"
I thought back.
Paul had interviewed me five months earlier.
He had spent most of the interview staring at my résumé.
"Paul did."
Dominic turned toward the manager.
Paul's expression collapsed.
"I ask every candidate about their background."
"Did you mention her language training to anyone?" Dominic asked.
"No."
Gabriel checked his phone.
Then looked at Paul.
"We have an email you forwarded to Mrs. Rinaldi's office."
Paul blinked.
"What email?"
"The one containing the staff biographies for potential private-service assignments."
Celeste snapped, "This is ridiculous."
Dominic ignored her.
"Who requested them?"
Gabriel read from the screen.
"Executive office of the Rinaldi Family Foundation."
Dominic's expression turned cold.
Celeste gripped her purse.
"That foundation is a legitimate charitable institution."
"Nobody suggested otherwise."
"Then stop trying to make this into something sinister."
Dominic crossed the room.
He didn't raise his voice.
That made it worse.
"Someone selected a waitress with a background in Italian language analysis."
"Someone stole her bracelet."
"Someone dressed like her and walked into my private wine reserve."
"And someone placed a document in front of me containing a clause that could remain operative after my death."
Celeste stared at him.
Dominic stopped a few feet away.
"Tell me which part you consider harmless."
She didn't answer.
Then her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
Her face changed.
Dominic noticed.
"Who's calling?"
"No one you know."
She declined the call.
A message appeared.
I couldn't see the sender.
But I saw the first line.
Did he drink it?
Celeste turned the phone facedown.
Too late.
Dominic had seen it.
So had I.
His expression went completely still.
"Celeste."
She looked at him.
"Give me your phone."
"No."
"Then preserve it for the police."
She backed toward the door.
"You have no right."
"You're correct."
Dominic took out his own phone.
"That's why I'm asking the police to obtain it lawfully."
Celeste stared at him with something close to hatred.
Then she said five words that I would remember long after that night.
May you like
"You should have signed first."
And walked out.
