Chapter 1: The Hallway Between the White Walls
The white wall was cold against my shoulder. I stood in profile with my hands flat at my sides, trying not to wrinkle the red dress, the teardrop diamond at my throat catching the even light from the hallway. Down the hall the sheer curtains glowed over the window and the pendant light hummed faintly, and everything looked exactly right for the photographer who was due at four. That was the contradiction I couldn't get past. I was dressed for gala photos and my five-year-old granddaughter was sitting on the floor behind me in her light blue outfit, too quiet, while my husband's footsteps came hard and fast toward her.
Richard was at his peak in that moment. Not loud, not yet. Controlled. The foundation gala was in three hours and the house had to be perfect and Lily had tracked a faint smudge across the white hall runner with her shoes. I could see his face in the reflection of the window before he reached her, jaw tight, and I realized I'd been holding my breath.
My name is Margaret Ellis and I was fifty-eight years old standing in that hallway.
At 3:12 the light was still bright and even. I watched it happen inch by inch. Richard didn't break stride. He leaned down and closed his hand around Lily's small forearm to pull her up. Her shoulder lifted, her fingers curled, her face didn't make a sound. The diamond earrings swung as I turned my head. I saw the way his thumb pressed in, the way her light blue sleeve bunched under his grip, the way she looked not at him but at me. I felt the air leave my chest in a slow, audible exhale.
My eyes widened before I could stop them. My mouth opened. The shock came as a physical thing, a tight heat under the necklace. I heard my own voice before I decided to speak, low and shaking and restrained, each sentence its own breath.
"Get out of my sight. Please leave me alone. Don't touch her again."
He didn't let go right away. He looked at me like I'd misspoken, like I'd used the wrong tone in front of staff. I didn't move from the white wall. I couldn't tell if Lily was breathing. Then Daniel stepped into the frame.
He'd been waiting by the front hall in his light gray suit, white shirt open at the collar, his dark wavy hair tucked behind his ears. I hadn't asked him to come inside. I'd hired him to drive us to the ballroom and to keep the evening smooth. He walked away from us at first, down the hall toward the bright window, his back to me, and for a second I thought he was leaving us to this. The pendant light caught the line of his shoulders. Then he stopped, turned, and came back.
He didn't say anything. He just placed himself at my side, shoulder to shoulder, and extended his right arm forward in front of me. The sleeve of his suit pulled back enough to show the dark tattoos along his neck and up from his collar, the ink stark against the white shirt. It was a blocking gesture, protective, not aggressive. He wasn't touching Richard. He was making a wall. Behind us Lily had sunk back down to the floor, knees to her chest, her light blue outfit pale against the white baseboard. I could feel Daniel breathing next to me, slow and even, and I tried to match it.
Richard took a step closer. Three feet away now. He looked at Daniel's arm, then at me, then at Daniel again, and his expression shifted into something amused and insulted at once.
May you like
"You're protecting her?"
The hallway door was still open. The sheer curtains moved with the air from the vent. No one moved. Daniel's arm stayed where it was. Lily didn't make a sound behind our legs, and the question hung there, unanswered, while Richard waited for one of us to fold first.
