Page 71 of Ruin

“I cannot feel anything from her,” I said, my voice low and strained. “She must have fallen asleep immediately. I feel awful for how this has played out.”

The words tasted bitter on my tongue. I meant for this to be a gentle transition, a period of adjustment. Instead, it felt like I had pushed her into a corner, leaving her no room to breathe or to understand what was happening. She did not run from me just because of Jennifer’s death. I knew she was breaking long before the body washed up on the shore.

Sam’s stare remained steady, though I could sense his underlying concern. “What do you think?” he asked, his voice holding a trace of hesitance as his eyes stayed locked on Claire’s door.

His question was both simple and profound, and it demanded an answer I was not sure I was ready to give. I had been so consumed with my own turmoil, my own fears of losing Claire, that I had neglected to fully consider how she might be processing everything.

I pressed my index finger to my upper lip, a habitual gesture of deep thought. My mind raced as I replayed the moments of our departure, trying to decipher the meaning behind her silence. Was it resignation? Fear? Perhaps a quiet acceptance of the situation?

“I think she’s just drained,” Sam added, his voice steady and practical. “Give her time.”

His words were a balm to my frayed nerves, a reminder that patience was a virtue I desperately needed to practice. Sam had always been a voice of reason, a grounding force in the storm of my own insecurities. His suggestion to give Claire time resonated with a simple truth I had to acknowledge. I could not force her to understand or accept what she did not yet grasp.

I nodded slowly, my eyes never leaving the door. “Yes…time,” I murmured.

The word felt heavy, laden with the weight of my own fears and regrets. Time was what I needed. Time to allow Claire to process, to adapt, and hopefully, to come to terms with the reality of our situation.

The silence stretched between us, a tangible presence that seemed to echo the emptiness I felt inside. I had always been skilled at navigating the shadows of my existence, at controlling the elements of my world with precision and calculation. But with Claire, everything was different. She was a wild card, a force of nature that defied my careful planning and control. And that, in itself, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the cool, quiet darkness soothe my racing thoughts. I could still see her face, the confusion and hurt reflected in her eyes. The way she had looked at me, almost as if she were seeing me for the first time, as if the mask I wore had slipped away. It was a look that haunted me, a reminder of the delicate balance I was trying to maintain.

As I reopened my eyes, I felt a pang of regret. Regret for the way things had unfolded, for the way I had unintentionally pushed Claire into a state of fear and uncertainty. I had failed to see the full impact of my actions on her.

“Do you think she’ll come around?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper. It was a question I was afraid to ask, afraid of the answer I might receive. But I needed to hear it, needed to cling to whatever hope remained.

Sam’s expression softened as he looked at me, his eyes reflecting a mixture of empathy and concern. “I think so,” he said gently. “But you need to give her space. Let her come to her own conclusions.”

I sighed deeply, the weight of his words settling on my shoulders. Space. Patience. These were concepts that were both alien and essential to me in this moment. It was a lesson I had to learn, a path I had to walk, no matter how uncertain or painful it might be.

As Sam resumed his post at a bench hidden among the rose bushes, I took a step back, feeling the cool air of the hallway against my skin. The enormity of the situation loomed over me, a reminder of the fragility of human emotions and the complexity of my own desires. I was caught between the primal need to possess and protect and the deep, abiding love that made me vulnerable in ways I had never imagined.

I stood there, lost in thought, the silence of the hallway enveloping me. My gaze remained fixed on the door, a silent plea for understanding, for acceptance, and for a chance to make things right. The future was uncertain, shrouded in shadows and doubts, but one thing was clear: I had to navigate this delicate dance with care, for the stakes were higher than they had ever been before.

“Keep an eye on her,” I demanded before disappearing from Sam’s side.

I made my way through the bustling hotel and to the back offices at the far edge of the property. Many years ago, this building that jutted off the main property was servants’ quarters. For centuries dozens of maids, butlers, groundkeepers, and cooks used these rooms as their bedrooms. They would stay here day after day, serving my family. Now, this space serves the business of the winery and the hotel, and my businesses at large.

A thick coat of dust sat atop my desk. Housekeeping had not visited in quite some time, likely due to the fact that I kept my office locked. I sat in my desk chair, the supple leather cradling me as I reached for the beaded string of the desk lamp. A warm glow, twinged with notes of green from the translucent lamp shade, illuminated the desk and flecks of dust that circulated the air. I opened the laptop, the blue light piercing my eyes that had adjusted to the darkness of the room.

The woman I love cannot think I killed Jennifer. The woman I love cannot be afraid of me.

My fingers clicked the mouse as my eyes scanned video footage from the night of Jennifer’s disappearance. The lobby footage played at triple the speed as I deciphered the bodies that flowed in and out of the lobby. Finally, I paused the video at 12:56 a.m.

Jennifer was there among a group of staff. Laughter filled the room as bottles of wine were passed around and polished off in big swigs.

She looked so happy, so full of life.

The group approached the reception desk as Lorenzo spoke to the night receptionist, who stood at his post, nodding his head. Moments later, he slid the room keys across the desk as members of the staff plucked them up. Lorenzo shook the night manager’s hand before returning to Jennifer, his arm pulling her toward him as she blushed and smiled widely with gratification.

Members of the staff made eyes at one another as they noticed the affection between Jennifer and Lorenzo. One by one, staff members slipped away down the hallways that led to the economy rooms. Jennifer and Lorenzo stood in an embrace before Jennifer pulled her hands to her face in embarrassment and whispered something to him. With that, Lorenzo kissed her on the cheek, continuing to hold onto her hand as she pulled away. Jennifer slowly left the frame as she walked down the corridor that led to the villa suites.

I will kill him…

Before my thoughts got the best of me, I watched Lorenzo leave the frame through the front door at 1:11 a.m. I quickly clicked over the main gate cameras, the blackness filling my screen for the first few minutes. Finally, at 1:13 a.m., the light of a car’s headlights filled the footage. I slowed the play speed, focusing on the view of the car.

Lorenzo. He is not the killer.

I sat there in shock. My mind was racing as I thought back to what the authorities said. Maybe she did leave the hotel, go for a little walk, and drunkenly fall from the cliff?