“Yes, ma’am. I’ll notify management.”
Elena hung up and felt her pulse in her throat.
She was not just a betrayed bride now.
She was a woman whose jewelry had been taken from a villa safe and worn by someone not registered to be there.
That was theft.
Possibly more.
At 3:00 p.m., Elena called her father.
Richard Vale answered cheerfully.
“How’s paradise, sweetheart?”
Elena closed her eyes.
For four days, she had avoided calling him because she wanted to sound happy. Richard had raised her alone after her mother died when Elena was thirteen. He had worked sixty-hour weeks, built a real estate company from nothing, and cried harder than anyone when he walked her down the aisle.
She hated what she had to tell him.
“Dad,” she said. “I need you to listen without interrupting.”
The cheer disappeared.
“What did he do?”
Not “what happened.”
Not “are you okay.”
Her father knew.
Maybe fathers always know when a daughter’s voice has been dragged across glass.
Elena told him everything.
By the end, Richard’s breathing had changed.
“Where is he now?” he asked.
“At the villa.”
“And where are you?”
“At the spa. Safe.”
“Good. Stay there.”
“I’m not staying here.”
“Elena—”
