“I am only trying to help you,” Celeste said quietly.

“Help me?” Vivian laughed, a hysterical sound. “Like you helped Eleanor?”

The room went dead silent.

Even the crackling of the fire seemed to fade.

Ethan leaned forward in his chair, his pencil poised over his notebook.

Alexander stared at Vivian.

“What do you mean by that?” Alexander asked.

Vivian looked at Celeste, and for a second, real terror showed in her eyes.

She looked like a woman who had realized she was standing on the edge of a cliff.

“She’s lying, Alexander,” Celeste said, her voice remaining perfectly calm. “She is hysterical.”

“I am not hysterical!” Vivian screamed.

She stood up, her finger pointing directly at Celeste.

“She told me what to do,” Vivian gasped.

“She told me Eleanor was in the way.”

“In the way of what?” Alexander asked, his voice a low growl.

“In the way of this estate,” Vivian said, her chest heaving. “Of you.”

Celeste sighed, shaking her head.

“This is absurd,” Celeste said. “I barely knew Eleanor.”

“You knew her well enough to send her gifts,” I said.