Page 11 of Laced With Secrets

Another message immediately followed:

I’ll text Marcus and give him the night off.

My lips curved upward, a rush of warmth spreading through my chest.

“So,” Penny said, drawing my attention away from my phone, “I’m going to the Fairfax mansion tonight. Gonna be doing more work on the historical fashion exhibit.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“God, yes. Please.” Penny’s relief was palpable. “I won’t have to be alone with Sebastian and Victor.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Have they been inappropriate?”

“No, they’ve been perfect gentlemen.” Penny’s spoon hovered above our melting ice cream, its tip just barely dimpling the surface. “Sebastian is… warm. Friendly. All charm and easy conversation. Makes me feel welcome, asks about my work, genuinely interested.”

“And Victor?”

“Cold. Emotionally stunted. Very controlled.” Penny’s voice dropped. “Like he’s watching everything, calculating. It’s unnerving.”

“Sounds like a fun dynamic.”

“It’s complicated.” He paused. “And to make it even more complicated, the master of the manor has returned.”

I crunched into another pickle slice, the vinegary tang flooding my mouth as I chewed. “Richard’s back? What’s he like now that, you know… Thomas’ remains have been found?”

“As cold and emotionally stunted as Victor, maybe more so.” Penny shuddered. “Spends most of his time in that old greenhouse on the estate grounds. Sebastian says he’s been holed up there for days, barely speaking to anyone. Very Brontë, if you ask me.”

Richard Fairfax Sr. One of the potential fathers of Thomas’s baby, and possibly one of the last people to see home alive. Maybe even the last.

I needed to talk to him.

“I’ll come with you,” I said. “The fashion exhibit sounds fascinating, and I’d love to see the greenhouse.”

“Thank you.” Penny’s gratitude was genuine. “Having you there will make everything less awkward.”

I finished the last pickle, the craving finally satisfied. My body hummed with contentment—both from appeased pregnancy hormones and new information about Thomas’s final weeks.

My hand went to my stomach, that protective gesture I couldn’t suppress. I understood Thomas’s fear now in a way I hadn’t before. The vulnerability of carrying something precious.

But unlike Thomas, I wasn’t alone.

I had Dominic. I had Penny. I had a community.

“Ready to go?” Penny asked, standing and stretching.

I nodded, signaling Robbie. “You paid last time, so this one’s on me.”

I swiped my card through the reader Robbie brought to our table, then added a generous tip before signing the receipt.

As we walked out into the cold December afternoon, the Historical District’s Christmas lights twinkled cheerfully along Main Street.

Somewhere in this picturesque community, lurked a killer. Someone who’d walked free for fifty years, their secret buried with their victim.

But secrets didn’t stay buried forever.

My baby deserved to grow up in a world where justice mattered. Where murdered omegas got answers, even fifty years later.

Whatever it took, I’d give them that world.