Chapter 2
I cleared the basement.
Everyone except Grace, Celeste, Preston, Lily and four of my men.
Preston sat against the overturned rack holding his ribs.
Celeste stood near the shelving.
Grace remained beside the door.
Nobody looked at Lily.
That told me more than any confession.
I crouched in front of my daughter.
“You said Mommy was in here.”
Lily nodded.
“When?”
Her little forehead tightened.
Children don't remember time.
They remember pictures.
Sounds.
Fear.
“Dark night.”
I glanced at Grace.
She looked away.
“What happened?”
Lily pulled the thermal blanket tighter.
“Mommy told me hide.”
“Where?”
She pointed toward the metal shelving.
I followed her finger.
Behind it was a narrow service gap between the freezer room and an old preparation room.
I remembered it.
Barely.
The estate had been renovated before Lily was born.
Most people didn't even know the opening existed.
I looked back at her.
“You hid there?”
“Yes.”
“And Mommy?”
Lily pointed toward the freezer.
My stomach turned.
“No.”
Grace finally spoke.
“She doesn't know what she's saying.”
I stood.
“That is the second time you've tried to tell me what my daughter remembers.”
“She was two.”
“She knows your face.”
Grace flinched.
Celeste stepped forward.
“Raffaele, listen to me.”
I looked at her.
“Were you here that night?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Preston lifted his head.
He looked at his sister.
Celeste noticed.
Another mistake.
I walked toward the freezer.
The inside was empty.
Except for scratches.
At first I thought they were ordinary marks.
Then I noticed the pattern.
Four long lines near the inner wall.
Another set lower down.
Not damage from storage crates.
Fingernails.
I touched them.
Eleven months.
They could have been older.
Or newer.
I didn't know.
But Lily did.
“Mommy did that.”
Nobody spoke.
I turned toward Grace.
“You told me Alessia left the estate at nine twenty that night.”
Grace swallowed.
“She did.”
“You were the last person who admitted seeing her.”
“Yes.”
“And yet my daughter remembers her here.”
“She was confused.”
I moved closer.
“She remembers you too.”
Grace's mouth tightened.
Preston stood.
“Enough.”
My bodyguards moved instantly.
He stopped.
I looked at him.
“Sit.”
He didn't.
I said it again.
“Sit.”
This time he did.
Lily suddenly climbed down from my bodyguard's arms.
She walked toward the shelving.
“Lily.”
She ignored me.
Children do that when adults are too frightened to understand something simple.
She crouched.
Reached beneath the lowest shelf.
Then pulled out a small object coated in dust.
Gold.
Oval.
A broken chain still attached.
My breathing stopped.
Alessia's locket.
I had given it to her on our second anniversary.
Her initials were engraved inside.
A.S.
I opened it.
The tiny photograph of Lily was still there.
Celeste gasped.
Very softly.
I looked at her.
“You recognize it.”
“No.”
“You just did.”
“I've seen pictures.”
I turned to Grace.
“You told me Alessia was wearing this when she left.”
Grace said nothing.
“You specifically told me that.”
Still nothing.
My wife hadn't left the estate wearing the locket.
The locket had never left this basement.
Which meant someone had lied to me before Alessia's car ever burned.
I closed my hand around it.
Then Preston said quietly:
“You don't understand what she found.”
I looked at him.
Grace snapped.
“Preston.”
He stopped.
Too late.
May you like
I walked toward him.
“What did my wife find?”
