Chapter 5 - THE BLOOD UNDER THE DIAMOND
By morning the scandal had already begun to spread.
A society blog posted that an “unstable waitress” had attacked Preston Heartwell’s fiancée during a private engagement party. Another article mentioned that Elena Cross, the elderly trustee tied to the manor, had been “confused” and removed from the event by her estranged son.
Preston was not wasting a single hour.
Iris sat at Elena’s kitchen table feeling as if her life had been pulled apart in one night. Her landlord had already left a voicemail asking whether police would be “coming around again.” Henderson had texted once—then unsent the message before she could read it.
Roman stood by the window making calls that sounded more like orders.
“Freeze any attempt to move foundation funds.”
“No, I want the original lease.”
“And get me the full chain of custody on that ring.”
He finally turned.
“You don’t have to stay in this if you want out.”
Iris laughed once, bitterly.
“They fired me. Framed me. Put me in a police car. I’m already in it.”
Elena studied her with quiet approval.
By noon Lydia returned from the lab with a slim envelope.
She opened it on the table.
Preliminary trace findings:
A small amount of Iris Dalton’s blood was found beneath the prongs of Vanessa Sterling’s ring setting.
Iris let out a shaky breath.
Vanessa had worn the ring when she cut her.
If the ring had gone “missing” afterward and then appeared in Iris’s locker, the theft story stank.
Roman’s mouth hardened.
“Good.”
Lydia did not smile.
“It’s only good if we use it correctly. Preston will say the ring was lost in the struggle and later recovered from Iris’s belongings. Blood alone doesn’t kill the theft claim.”
“Then what does?” Iris asked.
Lydia answered, “Proof someone put it there.”
As if summoned by the sentence, Elena rose and disappeared down the hall. She returned with an old leather notebook.
“Last night, after Iris was taken, I wrote everything I remembered hearing,” she said. “Preston thought I was shaken. He spoke too freely.”
She read from the page.
Get statements signed.
Make sure the waitress doesn’t talk.
Handle the locker before the police arrive.
Iris looked up.
“Henderson.”
Roman nodded.
“He opened it.”
Lydia tapped the notebook. “This helps, but the court will want corroboration.”
Elena’s gaze lowered.
“There is something else.”
She explained that Arthur Cross had never fully trusted Preston’s ambition. The foundation’s original stewardship agreement included behavioral conditions—standards for treatment of staff, use of charitable funds, and honesty in management. If those standards were breached, Elena could revoke Preston’s control.
“But I need the original signed schedule,” she said. “Arthur kept it in the manor archives.”
Roman’s eyes sharpened.
“In Preston’s house.”
Elena nodded.
“And Preston knows exactly what it would cost him.”
Just then Iris’s phone vibrated with a hidden-number text:
I didn’t plant the ring alone. If I tell you everything, can Roman protect me?
—H
Henderson was finally breaking.
Then a second message arrived before anyone could answer.
Meet alone.
Tonight.
No police.
Roman read it, expression unreadable.
“It’s a trap,” Iris said.
“Probably,” he answered.
May you like
Then he looked at the text again.
“Which means Henderson is more afraid of Preston than he is of prison.”
