Anna’s words followed me even after I’d reached home.

How sure was she that Xavier was behind it?

I had shunned her so quickly it even shocked me. I wasn’t supposed to defend him—not that I believed Anna, but I wasn’t about to defend someone I wanted to kill. And Anna knew that all too well.

She had apologized for suggesting it, saying she was just looking out for me.

The moment I got home, I searched myself and everything that could possibly be on me. I formatted my phone, though I had saved my important passwords and data on my laptop. I also checked my wardrobe and everything else, but there was no hidden camera. Xavier didn’t have cameras at all in the penthouse.

After showering, though, I went on a self-guided tour around the house. I found multiple guest rooms, none of them locked. Even his room wasn’t locked. And as much as I would hate to admit it, I went through his things. But it was clean. Of course, a murderer would be clean.

I came to a stop before a door that was darker in color than the rest. I grabbed the doorknob and twisted—it was locked.

Interesting.

The first locked door I had ever come across in his house.

I had learned the art of unlocking doors with hairpins, but Xavier could come back anytime soon. So I let it be. For now. I was definitely going to check it out. Just… not now.

The next day was the day of the event. I donned an azure blue sleeveless dress that hugged my chest and flared downward. I paired it with silver YSL heels and a tiny silver purse before leaving my room. As I slowly descended the stairs, I saw Xavier already waiting for me.

His emerald eyes trailed down my body, and I couldn’t help but flush.

What was he looking at me like that for?

Tonight, his hair was tousled, falling over his face and those intense green eyes. He was wearing an azure blue suit, the same shade as my dress, with a black inner shirt and vest, matching pants, and polished black shoes. He looked dangerously gorgeous—every single bit of him.

He outstretched his hand when I reached him, and I took it without hesitation. Then, he leaned down, his breath warm against my skin as his hair tickled my cheek.

“You look stunning,” he murmured.

He pulled away, and his smirk told me I was flushing deep red.

Xavier’s personal guardsman picked up the car key and led us out of the penthouse. He opened the backseat of the G-Wagon for us when we exited the elevator and entered the garage.

Xavier helped me in first before getting in himself.

“You don’t really have to be on your best behavior. Just be there,” he said, looking at me.

I nodded, though my hands suddenly felt clammy. It wasn’t my first time attending an event, but this time was different. I wasn’t with my parents. I was with my husband.

We reached the venue in no time.

Xavier stepped out first, then helped me down.

The house was a luxurious Victorian-style mansion, grand and imposing. I hooked my arm through his crooked elbow, and together, we walked inside with Kyle, Xavier’s bodyguard.

The paparazzi were already there, eagerly waiting before the entrance. We didn’t spare them a single glance. Inside, the ballroom was even more extravagant. Golden wine tables lined nearly every inch of the massive space, and to the side stood a stunning pyramid of champagne glasses.

“Wine?” Xavier whispered in my ear, his voice barely audible over the music blasting from every corner of the room.

I nodded, and we walked to the pyramid of glasses. He reached for the very top, plucking two, and handed me one.

It was champagne. Expensive and it was good.

As I took slow sips, my gaze wandered around the room. Every woman, single or not, was dressed to the nines. I wasn’t any less, but still, I couldn’t help but compare.

Then, I spotted a group of women chatting. One of them looked oddly familiar. Her back was turned, but when she finally turned around and locked eyes with me, I subconsciously squeezed Xavier’s arm.

I didn’t need to look at him to know he was already following my gaze.

“Who is that?” he asked, his voice lower now.

I tore my eyes away from her and looked up at him.

“My father’s ex-mistress,” I said softly. “He discarded her three months before his death.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, then he nodded in understanding.

I turned back toward Mitchell, who was now approaching me.

She looked the same. Long, black-as-night hair. A plump, curvy figure. That sweet, ever-present smile.

I never liked her when Father kept her. Not because of who she was, but because of what it did to my mother—how they made her sad. But regardless, Mitchell had always been kind to me. Even then.

“Marieclaie!” she squealed when she reached me, her heels clicking against the floor.

She was a little taller than me.

I glanced at Xavier and gave him a nod. He understood. Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, he leaned in and murmured, “I’ll be with some investors. Call me if anything.”

Then, his gaze flickered to Mitchell before he disappeared into the crowd.

“Ms. Mitchell.” I didn’t know if my address was correct—since I’d known her, she had neither married nor had children. “How have you been?” I forced a small smile.

“Alright, as you can see,” she chuckled. Then, her eyes twinkled mischievously. “Didn’t know you got married. To Xavier Morello of all people.”

I laughed softly. I knew what she was thinking. She, too, had known that the Morellos were my father’s enemies.

“Well, things happen,” I said with a small shrug.

She tilted her head slightly. “My deepest condolences for your loss, dear.”

I smiled at her words. I thought I had moved on. I thought I was over their deaths. Or maybe… I only convinced myself that I was.

“It’s alright,” I replied. “It’s almost been two months now. I’m fine.”

She nodded softly but still reached out and squeezed my arm.

“Why didn’t you come for the burial?” I asked. “I sent an invitation to your place.”

“Oh, dear, I wasn’t in New York at the time,” she sighed.

It was my turn to squeeze her arm. “Thank you, Ms. Mitchell.”

“It’s alright, dear. I hope we can keep in contact?” she asked hopefully.

I nodded, pulling out my phone.

After exchanging contacts, we air-kissed, and she returned to her group of women.

Xavier returned to my side moments later. He leaned down and whispered, “The host wants me to help cut the cake with a few others.”

The host was probably one of his investors.

After the cake cutting, pictures, and everything else, it was finally time to go home.

Xavier walked me upstairs, and when we reached my room, we paused. I looked up at him, biting my lip, suddenly feeling… shy?

“Thank you for tonight. I needed that,” I admitted.

He gave me a lopsided smile and nodded.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, then tilted his head toward my door. “Goodnight, darling.”

Darling?

“Goodnight, Xavier,” I whispered and practically ran inside.

But the moment I did, my breath hitched.

A box sat on my nightstand.

My brows furrowed as I slowly approached, carefully picking it up and sitting on my bed. I turned it to the side, then opened it.

Inside was a photograph, facedown. I lifted it and turned it around.

A scream nearly tore from my throat.

It was my brother, tied to a chair. Alive.

Bloodied and bruised.