The Sapphire’s Testimony
Two years after Elena’s death, Vincent sees her sapphire pendant around a frightened server’s neck at a private dinner. The jewel opens a trail of recordings, hidden rooms and buried records that challenges the loyal adviser who has controlled Vincent’s empire through grief.
Fiction. Contains organized crime themes, intimidation, grief, confinement, violence and legal consequences.Chapter One: The Ghost of Table 17
Three hours before the recording was played, Vincent Vale had been sitting alone at table 17.
That night, the “Belladonna” restaurant was not open to ordinary customers. The second floor was reserved as the venue for Walder’s annual winter dinner—a respectable gathering where powerful men pretended to be serious businessmen and frightened men pretended to be close friends.
Vincent has always established his authority by being taciturn. He is fifty-two years old, with broad shoulders and graying at the temples. He rarely raised his voice. He never had to. Everyone in the city knew that as soon as Vincent Walder stepped into the room, all the decisions had already been made.
In the past, Elena often teased him about this matter.
Whenever he put on a black suit, she would always say, “You look like you’re at your own funeral.”
The memory suddenly came to him as he stared out the window at the falling snowflakes. It has been two years since Elena passed away, but time has not made the emptiness in his heart shrink. It has only taught Vincent how to stagger around this void.
Silas, sitting to his right, was rattling off progress on shipping contracts and asset acquisitions.
“The warehouses to the north will be all ours by spring,” Silas said. “The original owners are ready to sit down and negotiate.”
Vincent listened absently.
He has been doing this more and more recently - leaving all the daily operations to Silas, while he stares at the document in a daze, but cannot read a word. Since Elena’s funeral, Silas had become his indispensable right-hand man. He settled disputes, took control of the accounts, fired disloyal employees, and ensured that Vincent rarely had to set foot outside the estate.
Everyone praised Silas’s loyalty. But no one mentioned how much power he had because of this. A waitress came towards the table carrying a bottle of red wine. She was younger than most of the staff, about twenty-six, with dark hair neatly tied back. Her hands were steady, but she kept glancing toward the exit from time to time.
Vincent noticed this because Elena had taught him to look at people’s hands, not their faces.
“One can train a perfect smile,” she once said, “but the hands are much more honest.”
The waitress poured Silas his drink first. When she leaned forward slightly, a sapphire pendant slipped out from her collar. Vincent forgot to breathe for a moment.
“Elena,” he murmured.
The waitress froze suddenly. Silas snapped and turned his head. Vincent stood up abruptly, and the chair behind him fell to the ground. The waitress stepped back and bumped into the table next to her. A wine glass fell to the ground and shattered.
Vincent strode towards her. The seemingly elegant illusion that night was completely shattered then. After the recording ended and Silas was subdued, a detective in a dark coat and silver hair walked into the restaurant surrounded by several uniformed police officers.
Vincent recognized him immediately. Detective Marcus Reed spent twenty years trying to put Vincent behind bars. The sight of him at this party belonging to the Walder family should have caused a wave of panic. But Vincent just looked at Nora.
“Did you find him?”
“Elena asked him to come,” Nora answered.
Marcus stopped a few steps away.
“I received a package this morning,” he said. “It contained financial records, photos, copies of medical files, and an instruction to get here at ten-fifteen sharp.”
Vincent glanced at the clock. Exactly ten sixteen. Silas forced a sneer.
“This is ridiculous. A dead man arranging a police visit?”
Marcus held up a sealed envelope.
: “The letter said that Elena had prepared everything two years ago. Nora can only send things out after certain specific conditions are met.”
“What conditions?” Vincent asked.
Nora looked at Silas.
“That means Silas took complete control of your accounts, took over your security, and was so confident that he didn’t even bother to check the staff list himself tonight.”
Silas’s jaw tensed momentarily. Vincent turned to his bodyguards.
“Take him to a private office.”
Marcus strode forward.
“No.”
Every Walder bodyguard present stared at him warily. Marcus continued cautiously:
“No matter what justice you think you are going to carry out next, don’t act rashly. Elena is keeping these evidences not so that you can erase Silas quietly, but to let the truth be known to the world.”
Vincent studied the detective.
“You think you can give me orders on my turf?”
“No,” Marcus replied, “but your wife trusts you and you will listen to her.”
This sentence carries more weight than any threat. Vincent stared at the sapphire.
“Finish the rest.”
Nora shook her head.
“Can’t be here.”
Silas struggled desperately in the hands of his captors.
“Boss, listen to me. She’s sowing discord! Reed has wanted to destroy you for years. They faked that voice on purpose.”
Vincent walked towards him. Silas’s self-confidence returned slightly, as if he was certain that his past relationship would protect him.
“I carried Elena’s coffin,” Silas said, “and I stood by your side.”
Vincent stopped inches away from him.
“Yes,” he replied, “you did.”
For the first time in his life, Vincent wondered whether Silas was mourning Elena that day or making sure the coffin would never be opened again. He ordered all the guests to leave. Then, he walked into the private office with Nora, Marcus, Silas and four bodyguards he still trusted.
The office has no windows, just one door. Nora put the sapphire on the desk.
“Before you listen to the rest,” she said, “you need to understand one thing: Elena doesn’t completely trust you.”
Vincent’s face darkened. Silas showed a faint sneer. Nora continued:
“She loved you. But she was afraid of the world you built and the men you indulged around you. In her last weeks, she wasn’t even sure if you were cheating on her too.”
Vincent slowly sat down on the leather chair behind his desk.
“The last few weeks?”
Nora looked him straight in the eyes.
“Elena actually lived for twenty-three days after the car accident.”
The room was deathly silent. For two years, Vincent was convinced that his wife had died when she fell into the water. In fact, she actually lived in a corner of the world for twenty-three days.
Waiting. In hiding. Maybe he called his name late at night. Vincent looked at Silas. This old friend now clearly looked like a stranger wearing a familiar mask.
“Tell me everything,” Vincent said.
Nora pressed the record play button. The story unfolds slowly.