“My sister?” Ben felt his body go cold, paralyzed by the mere mention of Soleil.
“Yes,” Arnaud grinned. “You didn’t know? You’ll be my third Leone.”
A sick feeling overcame Ben then, his stomach churning with disgust as the realization sank in. “Soleil…”
“Yes.” Arnaud grinned, his expression wicked and taunting. “Soleil was a delightful thing.”
A, not H, Ben thought, unable to speak.
“I enjoyed her company well enough, but she failed to provide any real value to me.”
“So you pushed her?” Ben asked through gritted teeth. “Why?”
“She threatened to tell my wife if I didn’t break off my marriage.” The man scoffed and shook his head as though the idea of leaving his wife was an inconceivable notion. “Really, I only wanted the money she had been saving. I needed an easy ticket. Raising a family with a wife as materialistic as mine added extra strain to my coin purse, as it were.”
Ben white-knuckled the bars. “Murderer.”
“You should know that it wasn’t my intention to hurt her. I was only going to take the money,” Arnaud shrugged as if it was a minor matter that he killed Soleil. “In the end, she left me no choice.”
“There is no money.” Ben snapped. “Surely you must know that by now.”
“Unfortunately, I learned that much too late.” Arnaud scowled. “However, that is easily remedied. With you and my niece gone, I can take the land and sell it for what it’s truly worth.”
Again, he reached for Arnaud’s throat—but the man stayed just out of reach.
Ben swallowed his rage and waited until Arnaud calmed. He’s completely mad.
Sniffing, the other man composed himself and smoothed a wrinkle from his jacket. He pulled a watch from his pocket and clicked open its bright face. Licking his lips, he ran a hand over his hair and smoothed it back. “In any case, I must be off. I’m working within a sensitive time frame, and I would hate to make my niece wait.”
“Mark me,” Ben called after Arnaud. “I will make you regret every move you’ve made since Soleil’s death!”
His footsteps grew farther and farther away.
Ben slumped into the cell and grasped his head, squeezing his temples. It helped with the shaking that had now wracked his body, undermining his nerves as everything inside of him fell apart. He’d been wrong about Hugo, despite how certain he’d been at first.
Arnaud, not Hugo, he thought, closing his eyes. But then they flashed and widened, realization oozing from every cracked surface of his mind.
“Remi!”
REMI
Remi’s feet kicked up rocks and mud behind her.
She’d gone from the foyer down the hill to the manors along the sea. The way was easy, the house she’d grown up in was still the same as it ever was. The first time she’d seen its large bay windows and traditional French doors, she’d been eight and heartbroken. Many times, she would find herself staring out longingly toward the ocean, wishing on every star in the night sky that she could go home again. But time had passed, and her aunt and uncle’s home had become hers; precious memories lingered there, ingrained into its walls and floors.
She would not let Hugo defile them.
Remi burst through the servant’s entrance in the back and raced past the cook in the kitchen. She weaved around the obstacles she’d memorized from her youth: the table in the dining room with its bum leg, the buffet she’d bumped her head on during hide-and-seek, and the rickety balustrade that gave way under too much pressure. As she ran, she could hear the memory of their laughter and feet pattering as they chased each other down the halls and into dimly lit rooms.
Elise will be alright, she tried to tell herself. Hugo will not harm her. It’s me he wants, not her.
But there was a pit in her stomach, and doubt swarmed her thoughts.
“Remi!” Tante Beline’s voice was as loud as thunder. “What are you doing?”
Beline didn’t know. She couldn’t know.
Remi did not stop herself from propelling up the stairs. Her feet moved faster than they ever had, the urgency in her nerves forcing more momentum behind each purposeful step. Others joined her, their cries at her back, but she did not stop. She could not stop.
Elise is in danger, she wanted to shout. But she could hardly breathe, and at the top of the landing on the second floor, she saw Elise’s open door. In the span of a breath, Remi fell through it and collapsed to her knees
“No,” her voice cracked, “no, no, no.”
There was a bloodcurdling scream.
“Elise!” Beline’s voice was pained, and it tore at Remi’s heart as if breaking open her chest and ripping it out.
Her cousin—the closest thing to a sister she’d ever had—lay pale and still on the floor of her bedroom. She was dead; Remi had been too late. Elise’s hair and freshly powdered face were caked with blood and vomit, soaking into her new gown. There would be ladies from the tea society arriving soon for the little party her mother had been planning to celebrate her marriage to the man who had killed her.
Beline shoved Remi aside, caging her daughter between her arms like a fierce lioness.
“Guillaume! Guillaume!” Beline sobbed, shaking as she cradled her daughter. “Find Arnaud—find him! Where is Hugo?”
Remi felt a chill embrace her.
Nothing but the vague ringing of a little bell could be heard inside her head. Muffled voices shuffled in and around her, and then two hands locked beneath Remi’s arms and pulled her up. She swayed on her feet, unsteady as she was moved away from Elise.
Remi recognized her uncle as he ushered her into her old room. The passive look of indifference on his face gave her pause.
