On the morning of my wedding, my mother threw my $2,000 silk dress into the fireplace

Before Julian and Elaine could leave the penthouse, Marcus stepped forward, his secure phone buzzing against his palm. "Mrs. Vance, wait. It’s the county detention facility. Bernice Bradley’s court-appointed attorney is on the line. She’s demanding to speak with you."

Elaine stopped in her tracks. "She has no right to demand anything."

"She claims it's about Arthur's will," Marcus said. "And she says if you don't answer, you won't live to see sunrise."

Julian took the phone, his jaw set in stone. "Put it on speaker."

A click echoed across the room, followed by the muffled, hollow background noise of a maximum-security visiting room. When Bernice’s voice came through, it was unrecognizable—stripped of its aristocratic arrogance, cracked with hysteria and exhaustion.

"Elaine? Elaine, are you there?!" Bernice shrieked into the receiver.

"I’m here, Mother," Elaine replied coldly, refusing to let an ounce of pity soften her tone. "Enjoying your cell?"

"Shut up and listen to me, you ungrateful little brat!" Bernice gasped for breath, her voice trembling with an emotion Elaine had never heard from her before: raw, unadulterated terror. "He contacted you, didn't he? Rupert sent the package! The rampant wolf! Tell me he sent it!"

Elaine exchanged a sharp look with Julian. "How do you know about Rupert?"

"Because he’s the one who gave me the idea to burn the dress!" Bernice wailed, sobbing uncontrollably. "Thirty years ago, when your father chose Clara over everyone, Rupert swore he would turn Arthur's family into ashes. When Clara died, Rupert approached me. He promised me that if I married Arthur and helped him bleed the trust funds slowly, Logan would inherit everything! He said Logan would be the king of Bradley Holdings!"

"You betrayed Father for thirty years for a lie?" Elaine’s voice trembled with fury. "Logan never wanted your stolen crown! You destroyed this family for a ghost!"

"You don't understand, Elaine!" Bernice screamed through the phone. "Rupert never cared about Logan! When the police raided the mansion yesterday and found the poisoned vials, I got a message slipped into my cell under my dinner tray. It was from Rupert. He told me that Arthur’s original will had a fail-safe. If I destroyed the dress, the fail-safe would activate upon Arthur’s death and blame *you* for the embezzlement!"

"Why did he want the dress destroyed, Bernice?!" Elaine barked into the receiver. "Tell me now!"

"Because Clara stitched Rupert’s original Swiss bank account numbers into the silver hem!" Bernice cried out, her voice breaking into a ragged sob. "Rupert thought that if the dress burned, the only proof of his theft would vanish forever, leaving only the trap set for you! But I was stupid... I was so blind with hatred that I didn't see he was setting me up to take the fall for Arthur's murder!"

"Where is the veil, Bernice?" Elaine demanded. "Tell me where you hid the veil!"

"I didn't hide it!" Bernice sobbed. "When I burned the gown, I took the veil and locked it in the safety deposit box at the estate's carriage house. I wanted to burn it on your wedding day too, but Arthur’s old hound dog wouldn't let me near the outbuilding! Elaine... please... you have to get me out of here. Rupert’s men are inside the prison! They’re watching me right now—"

A sudden scuffle erupted on the other end of the line. The sound of metal chairs scraping against concrete, a sharp gasp, and then a heavy, hollow thud.

"Bernice? Bernice!" Elaine shouted.

A man’s voice, cold and heavily accented with an old continental drawl, picked up the receiver on the prison line.

"Madame Bradley has suddenly fallen ill, Mrs. Vance," the stranger said smoothly. "I suggest you look at your watch. Time is a luxury that your bloodline simply cannot afford."