The Silent Guest

Chapter Twelve

Elise's POV

Elise Vaughn never paced. Pacing was for the anxious. The weak. The unsure.

But tonight, she did.

The study reeked of cedar and old paper. Rain smacked against the windows like an impatient threat. In her hand, Elise held a crystal glass of neat scotch—the good kind Richard used to hoard behind the second shelf, back when he still thought she was some secretary playing housemaid.

She took a slow sip. Her hands didn't tremble. Not yet.

The maid's report had confirmed it. Claire had been in the east wing.

The sealed east wing.

And Adam… that damn fool… had been sniffing around too. The ledger. The playroom. The letters.

Elise stared into the fire, fingers clenching the glass tighter.

They were getting too close.

And Laura's death had done exactly what she feared it would—it cracked open the floorboards.

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Memory – Five Years Ago

"You're bluffing," Laura said, standing at the edge of Elise's balcony in a silk robe, cigarette trembling between her fingers.

"I never bluff," Elise said coldly.

"You forged the trust. You moved the shares. You—"

Elise raised one brow. "And you seduced a married man. I'd say we're even."

Laura took a step forward, wind tangling her hair. "You think you own this family. You don't. You're just the whisper behind the throne."

Elise's voice sharpened. "I am the throne."

She had turned then, stiletto heels clicking across the tile like the countdown of a gun.

"Laura," she had said over her shoulder, "play your game. But know this—if you come for my crown, you'd better not miss."

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Tonight, Elise returned to that same balcony.

She lit a cigarette, lips pursed. Below, police lights flickered in faint reflections across the garden pond. Detective Rachel Kennedy was still here. Still watching. The woman was sharper than Elise anticipated. She played the long game.

And now Claire was remembering.

The sealed room. Juliet's letters. The locket Elise had hidden out of spite.

She's not ready for the truth, Elise told herself again. She never was.

But it didn't matter now.

Because Elise was out of time.

She turned away from the window, walked toward her father's old desk, and slid open the hidden panel beneath it.

Inside: a burner phone. She dialed.

One ring. Two.

A voice answered—male. Gruff. Eastern European accent.

"Go," he said.

"They're close," she said quietly. "Too close. The book is real. And Adam has it."

"Understood."

"Wait," Elise added. "The girl. Claire. I want her untouched."

A long pause.

"She's not a child anymore," the voice said.

"She's mine," Elise snapped. "You don't lay a finger on her unless I say."

The line clicked dead.

Elise dropped the phone in the drawer and exhaled.

She was making mistakes. Emotional ones.

That could not happen again.

----------

She moved through the house like a shadow, stopping outside the guest wing. Claire's door was ajar.

She stepped inside.

The room was empty.

The closet, untouched. Bedding neat. But the drawer was open—and missing something.

Elise moved to the window.

Tire tracks below. Claire had left.

She's running, Elise realized. Or hunting.

Either way, she was dangerous now.

And then a voice echoed from behind her: "Looking for something?"

Elise turned slowly.

Detective Rachel Kennedy stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.

"Just checking up on my niece," Elise said smoothly.

Rachel stepped into the room, gaze sweeping every detail. "Funny. She's not here."

"No," Elise agreed, brushing invisible lint from her sleeve. "She rarely is when you need her most."

Rachel tilted her head. "You seem nervous."

"Do I?" Elise smiled faintly. "Well. It's been a long week."

"Yes, I'm sure it has been a long week." Rachel agreed.

Elise let out a long breath. "Have you gotten any real evidence yet, Detective?"

"Not yet," Rachel said, already turning to leave. "But remember: the queen only survives the board if she has pawns left to move."

Elise's eyes narrowed.

So. She was playing chess now.

Fine.

She knew this game better than anyone.

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Back in her room, Elise opened the safe hidden behind the floor-length mirror. Inside: deeds, stock certificates, passports.

And one black velvet box.

She opened it.

Inside: a silver syringe. Unused. Precise.

She'd never wanted to use it. Not again. Not like she had in Berlin.

But if the past refused to stay buried—then she'd bury the future instead.

Claire had to be found.

Because if she uncovered the truth Juliet had tried to shield her from—

She'll hate me forever, Elise thought.

But worse than that?

She might tell the world.

And Elise Vaughn would not survive that.

Not as a queen.

Not even as a ghost.