Chapter 4
Maura realized her mistake immediately.
Grant did too.
I didn't say anything.
That's the problem with silence.
People rush to fill it.
Maura laughed.
“You know what I mean.”
“No.”
I picked up the black bottle.
“Explain.”
“You were scheduled to remain in council until dessert.”
“That isn't what you said.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Lorenzo.”
“Why was I supposed to stay in council?”
“Because that's what you do every Christmas.”
“No.”
I looked at Grant.
“This year I planned to leave early.”
Grant's eyes shifted.
Small.
Enough.
“Who told you otherwise?”
Silence.
The capos around us started watching him differently.
Grant noticed.
“I assumed.”
“No.”
He scoffed.
“Then I remembered.”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
I continued.
“You planned around it.”
Maura stepped in.
“This is childish.”
I turned toward her.
“So is withholding dinner from a five-year-old.”
She smiled coldly.
“And yet it worked.”
Mia heard.
I saw her fingers tighten around Marco's sleeve.
Maura looked at her.
“Don't make that face.”
My daughter stared.
“You were much easier after missing breakfast.”
Grant chuckled.
“Mother.”
“What?”
“You said not to—”
He stopped.
Too late.
I looked at him.
“Not to what?”
“Nothing.”
“Grant.”
He looked at Maura.
She stared straight ahead.
He swallowed.
“Discuss discipline in front of you.”
I felt something colder than anger.
“How long?”
No answer.
“How long have you been doing this?”
Maura sighed.
“Months.”
Mia started crying again.
Maura snapped:
“Oh, stop.”
I turned sharply.
She didn't care.
“She's not bleeding.”
That sentence.
That exact sentence.
Like pain only mattered once blood appeared.
Mia whispered:
“My tummy hurt.”
Maura laughed.
“Because you were hungry.”
My daughter looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Then you should have apologized.”
“For what?” I asked.
Maura turned.
“Disobedience.”
“What disobedience?”
She counted on her fingers.
“Interrupting council.”
“One.”
“Leaving lessons.”
“Two.”
“Entering rooms she was told not to enter.”
“Three.”
She paused.
“And listening.”
There.
I looked at her.
“Listening to what?”
Maura's smile disappeared.
Grant shifted.
I stepped closer.
“That's what this was about.”
“No.”
“She heard something.”
“No.”
“You punished her afterward.”
Maura's eyes hardened.
“She hears everything because you let her wander.”
I almost smiled.
“Thank you.”
Her face changed.
“What?”
“You just answered.”
Grant cursed under his breath.
Maura's voice sharpened.
“I answered nothing.”
“You weren't punishing her for bad manners.”
Silence.
“You were teaching her not to repeat what she heard.”
Mia whispered:
“Grandma says secrets keep Daddy alive.”
I turned.
“What secrets?”
She looked confused.
“All.”
Maura laughed again.
“Children say nonsense.”
Mia shook her head.
“You said.”
“Mia.”
Maura's voice changed.
Not loud.
Worse.
The voice of someone used to being obeyed.
“You remember what happens when little girls invent stories.”
My daughter went white.
Marco looked at me.
I crouched.
“What happens?”
Mia didn't answer.
Maura smiled.
“See?”
I looked at her.
“What happens?”
“Nothing.”
Mia whispered:
“Dark room.”
My chest tightened.
“What dark room?”
Maura immediately said:
“There is no dark room.”
Mia pointed toward the east hall.
“Christmas closet.”
I knew the room.
An old storage room used for decorations.
No windows.
I stood.
Maura's face changed.
Barely.
“Open it.”
My security chief left.
Maura followed him with her eyes.
Grant looked at the floor.
I looked at Mia.
“Did she lock you there?”
She nodded.
“How long?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you call me?”
My daughter's eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Maura spoke over her.
“And did he come?”
Mia flinched.
I looked at my aunt.
She smiled.
“That's the lesson.”
“What lesson?”
“No one came.”
My hands curled.
Maura looked at Mia.
“You screamed for him until your voice hurt.”
Mia started crying.
Maura kept going.
“Did he come?”
“Stop.”
Marco's voice.
Not mine.
Everyone looked at him.
Maura stared.
“You don't speak to me.”
Marco didn't move.
“I just did.”
She laughed.
“Lorenzo, control your servant.”
I looked at Marco.
“He's fine.”
Maura's face hardened.
The security chief returned.
He was carrying something.
A child's cardigan.
Red.
Mia's.
My daughter immediately buried her face against Marco.
The chief's voice was quiet.
“Found it inside.”
He placed the cardigan on the table.
Then something else.
A small plate.
Dry bread.
Nothing more.
Mia whispered:
“Dinner.”
I couldn't breathe for a second.
Maura rolled her eyes.
“She wasn't going to die.”
There was no remorse.
None.
Then my security chief placed a small overnight bag beside the plate.
Pink.
Mia's initials embroidered on the side.
I looked at my daughter.
“What's that?”
She stared.
“I don't know.”
Maura stopped breathing.
Grant went pale.
The bag was packed.
Two dresses.
Underwear.
Shoes.
A winter coat.
My daughter's medication.
Everything a child would need for several days.
I looked at Maura.
“This isn't discipline.”
She said nothing.
May you like
I lifted the bag.
“You were planning to take her somewhere.”
