Chapter 4 - Rosa Finally Said Her Daughter’s Name
For a moment, even the traffic noise seemed farther away.
Camille stood still beside the SUV, one hand tightening around her handbag strap. Pierce looked as if he might bolt, but the hotel security supervisor had already shifted subtly into his path.
“What was your daughter’s name?” Camille asked.
“Ellen,” Rosa said.
The name seemed to hit Pierce somewhere under the skin.
Rosa saw it. So did Camille.
Rosa reached into the inner pocket of her apron and pulled out a worn photograph protected by clear plastic. She handed it to Camille.
It showed a smiling young woman in front of the same hotel, holding florist shears in one hand and laughing at the camera. Standing beside her was a man wearing sunglasses and a backward baseball cap.
But the jawline was the same.
The mouth was the same.
And once Camille looked closely, even the careless arrogance around the eyes was the same.
“Pierce?” she whispered.
“He called himself Gavin Shore then,” Rosa said. “He told my daughter he was helping launch a luxury-events company. He said he wanted her eye for flowers. He said he saw talent in her.”
Pierce let out a sharp breath. “This is insane.”
Rosa ignored him.
“Then Ellen started noticing a pattern. Wealthy women. Private dinners. Surprise contracts. Expensive flowers every single time.”
Camille’s head snapped up.
“Contracts?”
Rosa nodded.
“She told me the flowers weren’t romance. They were stage dressing. Something to soften women before papers came out.”
Pierce laughed harshly. “You’re really going to believe this?”
Camille looked at him. “Shouldn’t I?”
He stepped toward her and lowered his voice.
“Her daughter was unstable. She got attached. She made things up when I ended it.”
Rosa’s face went white with controlled fury.
“My daughter left home that last morning carrying your invoice, your room number, and a recording she said would protect someone.”
Camille blinked. “Protect who?”
Rosa’s eyes moved to her.
“She never got the chance to tell me.”
Pierce folded his arms, trying to drag control back to himself.
“If she had proof,” he said, “where is it?”
Rosa did not answer.
Because that was the one question that had ruined her sleep for eleven months.
Where was Ellen’s recording?
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And why had Pierce just asked about it like he knew it existed?
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