Chapter 2
The Ventresca Antique Toy Museum had once been a private family mansion.
Rocco’s grandfather donated the main building to the family foundation forty years earlier.
The museum occupied the public floors.
A residential wing remained attached.
For the past five years, Victoria and Preston had lived there while overseeing museum events and collection development.
They did not own it.
But Preston had apparently started behaving as if they did.
Rocco learned that the following morning.
Museum director Helen Crawford placed a stack of renovation proposals on his desk.
“Mr. Preston has been calling the residential wing ‘the Ventresca House’ in contracts.”
“It is the Ventresca house.”
“He means his house.”
Rocco looked up.
Helen showed him a vendor agreement.
Preston had authorized expensive renovations to the private wing.
A new kitchen.
Custom wine storage.
Imported fixtures.
The costs had been charged partly to museum hospitality budgets.
Rocco stared at the numbers.
“Who approved these?”
“Victoria signed several.”
“And the board?”
“Never saw them.”
Rocco closed the folder.
Then Helen brought out a second list.
Over the previous year, Victoria had instructed museum staff to collect “family historical objects” from several Ventresca properties.
Most transfers were legitimate.
Others were not.
The drummer was one.
Two of Celeste’s childhood dolls were another.
A music box from Elliot’s nursery.
Three framed photographs.
One handwritten recipe book.
None belonged to the foundation.
“Why didn't somebody call me?”
Helen hesitated.
“Preston said you approved everything.”
“Did anyone verify that?”
“No.”
Rocco looked at her.
Helen held his gaze.
“People don't usually verify something after being told Rocco Ventresca approved it.”
That answer stayed with him.
Preston had exploited Rocco’s reputation as efficiently as any signed document.
Rocco asked where the objects were.
Some remained in storage.
Others had been placed in a gallery dedicated to “Ventresca Family Childhood.”
Celeste’s name had been removed from most labels.
Rocco walked into the gallery himself.
Elliot’s music box sat behind glass.
The placard beneath it read:
VENTRESCA FAMILY COLLECTION, CIRCA 1990s.
No Celeste.
No Elliot.
No mention that it had ever belonged to anyone outside the Ventresca bloodline.
Rocco stared at the display.
May you like
Someone had not simply taken Celeste’s belongings.
They had begun rewriting who she had been.
