Chapter 2: The Gold Mark
Nobody moved.
The music was still playing.
That somehow made the silence worse.
A soft jazz song continued from the speakers while thirty people stood around the pool pretending not to stare.
Vanessa kept one foot behind the other.
Marcus noticed.
“Vanessa,” he said, “show me the shoe.””
She shook her head.
“It’s nothing.””
Diane stepped forward.
“No.””
Her voice was different now.
Not embarrassed.
Not angry.
Certain.
“It's not nothing.””
Vanessa looked at her.
“You're being ridiculous.””
Diane's eyes remained fixed on the heel.
“I've seen that mark before.””
Marcus frowned.
“Where?””
Diane didn't answer immediately.
She looked toward the mansion.
At the white stone walls.
The glass doors.
The long patio.
The pool reflecting the afternoon sunlight.
Then she looked back at Vanessa.
“Take off the shoe.””
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“Absolutely not.””
Marcus's expression hardened.
“Why?””
“Because it's my shoe.””
“Then take it off.””
Vanessa glanced toward the guests.
One of them, an older Black man named Raymond, quietly set down his glass.
“Vanessa,” Raymond said, “if there's nothing wrong with it, why hide it?””
She shot him a look.
“Stay out of this.””
Raymond lifted both hands.
“I'm staying out of it.””
Diane stepped closer.
“Please.””
Vanessa looked at her.
For the first time, there was fear in her eyes.
Not anger.
Fear.
Diane saw it.
So did Marcus.
He lowered his voice.
“What are you scared of?””
“I'm not scared.””
“You're shaking.””
Vanessa looked down at her hand.
She was.
She clenched it into a fist.
“I spilled wine on a shoe. That's all.””
Diane shook her head.
“No.””
Marcus turned toward his mother.
“What does the logo mean?””
Diane looked at him.
“I need to see the entire mark.””
“Why?””
“Because I don't want to accuse anyone without knowing what I'm looking at.””
Vanessa suddenly snapped.
“You're accusing me already!””
Diane didn't flinch.
“No. I'm asking you to show me the shoe.””
Vanessa took a step backward.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Vanessa.””
“What?””
“Take it off.””
She stared at him.
“You're choosing her over me?””
Marcus's face tightened.
“This isn't about choosing anyone.””
“It always is.””
She pointed toward Diane.
“She walks into my relationship and suddenly I'm the villain.””
Diane's voice remained calm.
“I didn't walk into anything.””
“You're always there.””
“Because this is my home.””
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“Your home.””
“Yes.””
“And Marcus is going to marry me.””
Marcus immediately looked at her.
“Excuse me?””
Vanessa froze.
A murmur passed through the guests.
Diane's eyebrows rose.
Marcus shook his head.
“We've never discussed marriage.””
Vanessa's face flushed.
“You said—”
“I said we'd talk about our future.””
“You said I was family.””
“I said I cared about you.””
Vanessa stared at him.
“That isn't what you made me believe.””
Marcus looked away for a moment.
When he turned back, his voice was quieter.
“That's a conversation for later.””
Vanessa looked wounded.
Then angry.
Then calculating.
It happened so quickly that most people probably missed it.
Diane didn't.
She had spent decades watching people make decisions when they thought nobody was paying attention.
Vanessa finally bent down.
She slipped off the stained heel.
The gold emblem underneath was now completely visible.
Diane's face went still.
Marcus looked at it.
“What is that?””
Diane didn't answer.
She reached for the shoe.
Vanessa pulled it away.
“Don't.””
“Let me see it.””
“No.””
“Vanessa.””
“No!””
Her shout echoed across the patio.
She immediately covered her mouth.
The guests stared.
Marcus slowly held out his hand.
“Give me the shoe.””
Vanessa shook her head.
“You don't understand.””
“Then explain.””
“I can't.””
“Why?””
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“Because if I tell you, you'll hate me.””
Marcus's expression changed.
He wasn't furious anymore.
He looked almost disappointed.
“I'm already trying to understand why you lied to me.””
“I didn't lie.””
“You told me those shoes came from the boutique on Rodeo.””
“They did.””
Diane's head snapped up.
“No.””
Vanessa looked at her.
Diane spoke slowly.
“That boutique never carried this collection.””
Marcus looked between them.
“Mom, how do you know?””
Diane took a breath.
“Because I designed it.””
Everyone went silent again.
Vanessa's lips parted.
Marcus stared at his mother.
“You designed the shoes?””
“Not just the shoes.””
Diane took the heel from Vanessa's trembling hand.
She turned it over.
Her thumb brushed over the tiny gold emblem.
“This was a private prototype.””
Marcus looked confused.
“A prototype?””
Diane nodded.
“Eight years ago, before my company became what it is now, I developed a luxury footwear line.””
She looked at the shoe.
“Only twelve pairs were ever produced.””
Raymond stepped closer.
“Twelve?””
“Twelve.””
Diane's voice dropped.
“Eleven were destroyed after the launch was canceled.””
Marcus stared at the heel.
“And the twelfth?””
Diane's eyes hardened.
“It disappeared.””
Vanessa's face drained of color.
Marcus looked at her.
“You said you bought this.””
Vanessa didn't answer.
“Vanessa.””
She whispered, “I found it.””
Diane's eyes narrowed.
“Where?””
Vanessa looked toward the house.
“I can't tell you.””
Marcus stepped closer.
“Then we're going inside.””
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
“No.””
He looked down at her hand.
She released him.
“Please.””
Marcus studied her face.
“What did you do?””
“I didn't steal anything.””
Diane's gaze sharpened.
“I never said you did.””
Vanessa swallowed.
“You were going to.””
Diane shook her head.
“I was going to ask where the shoe came from.””
Vanessa's eyes flicked toward the mansion again.
And this time, Diane followed her gaze.
Straight to the glass doors.
Someone was standing behind them.
A shadow.
Watching.
Diane's breathing stopped.
“Marcus.””
He turned.
“What?””
“Look at the doors.””
Marcus turned toward the mansion.
The shadow disappeared.
He moved quickly across the patio.
“Hey!””
He pushed through the glass doors.
The living room was empty.
A champagne glass sat on the marble console.
Still wet.
Marcus looked down.
There was a single red wine drop beside it.
Then his phone vibrated.
He pulled it from his pocket.
Unknown number.
One message.
*Ask your mother why she really stopped making those shoes.*
Marcus stared at the screen.
May you like
Another message appeared.
*And ask her what happened to the missing twelfth pair.*
