Nathaniel froze, the phone pressed so tightly against his ear that his knuckles whitened.
“Are you trying to make some kind of joke?” His voice came out sharp, almost threatening. “Did she pay you to say that?”
On the other end, the butler sounded rattled. “No, sir… I wouldn’t dare. Miss Eleanor… she was in a car crash. She’s gone.”
“No, impossible! Why would she be in a car crash when I told her to wait at home?” He was fuming.
“Well,” the butler sighed. “We’re not sure, but we think that she was going somewhere because she brought a lot of her things.”
Nathaniel's jaw clenched, ready to snap back, when a second call came in. Without even saying goodbye, he switched lines.
“This is Officer Landers. Are you related to a Eleanor Carrington?”
Nathaniel’s instinct was to say I’m her husband. The words almost slipped out—until reality slammed back into him. His lies. His carefully built façade. He couldn’t risk it.
“I’m… her brother-in-law,” he said instead. The words felt foreign in his mouth, acidic.
The officer’s tone was grim. “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve recovered ashes and several personal belongings from the crash site. The body… it’s unrecognizable because the car exploded after collision.”