Chapter 1 - THE KEY IN EDWIN’S HAND
Edwin locked the front door while Camila was still on the phone with the hospital.
Her father had suffered a massive heart attack forty minutes earlier. The nurse said George Stanford had been unconscious when the ambulance arrived and that Camila should come immediately.
Then the doctor took the phone.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Mercer. Your father died at 1:17 a.m.”
Camila stood beneath the chandelier in the Bel Air mansion, wearing a pink satin slip and no shoes. Rain struck the tall windows. The fireplace burned behind Edwin’s parents, who remained seated on the blue velvet sofa as if the news had interrupted a television show.
Camila grabbed her coat and rushed toward the door.
Edwin stepped in front of her.
He wore burgundy silk pajamas and held the brass key between two fingers.
“Move,” she said.
He glanced toward Brutus, the giant brown shepherd lying on the rug.
“Crawl under my dog three times,” Edwin said. “Then maybe I’ll let you go say goodbye.”
Camila stared at her husband.
Beverly covered a smile with her champagne glass. Harold leaned back, pleased with himself.
Five years earlier, Camila would have cried. Three years earlier, she would have tried to reason with them. One year earlier, she would have apologized for upsetting the household.
That night, grief left no room for performance.
“My father just died, Edwin. Move.”
He lowered the key until it swung inches above Brutus’s back.
“Then beg properly.”
The dog rose when Edwin pointed. Brutus was not naturally aggressive, but Edwin had trained him to block doorways and respond to sharp hand signals. The animal stepped between Camila and the exit.
She backed away and dropped to one knee, not to crawl but to reach the phone she had left on the marble floor.
Edwin laughed. “There she is.”
Camila opened her contacts and called Martin Wayne, her father’s longtime attorney.
He answered on the second ring.
“Camila?”
“Activate Clause One.”
Silence followed.
Then Wayne’s voice changed. “Has George died?”
“At 1:17.”
“Are you safe?”
“My husband has locked me inside the house.”
Edwin stopped smiling.
Wayne spoke carefully. “Clause One is effective upon your father’s death. I will notify the lender and the Crestview board that all discretionary advances under the Stanford guarantee are suspended pending independent review.”
Harold stood.
“What did she say?”
Camila kept her eyes on Edwin. “Proceed with the trust agreement, Martin.”
“Understood. I’m also contacting emergency services. Stay on the line.”
Edwin stepped toward her. “Give me the phone.”
Camila rose.
Beverly’s amusement disappeared. “Edwin, take it from her.”
He grabbed for the device, but Camila moved behind an armchair. Brutus followed Edwin’s signal, then hesitated when Camila said his name softly.
The dog looked from one person to the other.
A hard knock struck the front door.
“Los Angeles Police Department.”
Harold swore.
Edwin’s fingers tightened around the key. “You called the police over a family argument?”
“You locked me in.”
“I was keeping you from driving in a storm.”
“You told me to crawl under a dog.”
Beverly stood and straightened her satin top. “No one heard that but us.”
Wayne’s voice came through the phone.
“The call has been recorded from the moment I answered.”
Edwin’s hand opened.
The key struck the marble.
Officers entered after Camila told them through the door that she was being prevented from leaving. Edwin insisted the situation was a misunderstanding. Harold called it grief-induced hysteria. Beverly said Camila had always been dramatic.
Camila did not argue.
She gave the officers the facts, collected her coat, and asked one of them to escort her past Brutus.
Before she left, Edwin caught her arm.
“Do you understand what you just did?” he whispered. “Crestview can’t make payroll without that credit line.”
An officer told him to release her.
Camila looked at the hand around her wrist until Edwin let go.
“I understand exactly what you wanted me to believe,” she said.
Wayne arranged a car to take her to Cedars-Sinai, where George’s body was being held until the family made arrangements. Camila arrived too late to say goodbye while he was alive, but a nurse allowed her to sit with him.
She stayed beside the bed until dawn.
At 5:42 a.m., Wayne entered carrying a leather portfolio.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Camila could not answer.
He placed the portfolio beside her.
“George amended the trust six months ago. Clause One wasn’t created only to protect his guarantees after death.”
She looked up.
May you like
Wayne continued.
“He believed Edwin was preparing to force you into activating it.”
