Chapter 1 - THE HOUSE BEYOND THE CITY
The first secret Austo Castillion revealed was that he had no intention of taking me to one of his city properties.
The limousine left Philadelphia behind and continued north through black stretches of road bordered by wet trees and stone walls. I had stopped shaking, but only because my body had run out of energy.
Austo said almost nothing.
That silence should have frightened me.
Instead, it felt like the first silence of my life that did not demand something from me.
Eventually, iron gates appeared ahead.
They opened before the limousine slowed.
Beyond them stood a sprawling stone estate lit by low golden lamps. It was not ostentatious in the way my father’s houses were. No marble statues. No fountains trying to prove money.
The place looked old.
Private.
Protected.
Tobaya pulled beneath a covered entrance.
Austo stepped out first.
I remained where I was.
He looked back.
“You can stay in the car if you want.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I said you can stay.”
No one in my family had ever offered me a choice after giving an order.
That alone made me suspicious.
“You’re not going to ask why I ran?”
“I assume you’ll tell me when you’re done deciding whether I’m worse than whatever chased you into my car.”
His mouth shifted slightly.
Almost humor.
I climbed out.
The stones were cold beneath my bare feet.
A woman in her sixties appeared at the door. Silver hair. Black dress. Calm eyes.
“Mr. Castillion.”
“Mrs. Vale, find Veronica something dry.”
She looked at me only once before understanding everything.
“No questions?”
Austo asked.
Mrs. Vale shook her head.
“Not tonight.”
I almost cried.
Not because they were kind.
Because kindness without interrogation felt dangerous when you had never been given it before.
Mrs. Vale led me upstairs.
The guest room was larger than my childhood bedroom, with a fireplace, cream walls, and windows overlooking dark fields.
A clean nightdress lay on the bed.
So did a medical kit.
I touched my scraped knee.
Then saw something else.
On the bedside table sat a framed photograph.
A much younger Austo stood beside a woman with Veronica Bellucci’s eyes.
My eyes.
I moved closer.
The woman was not my mother.
But she wore the Bellucci family necklace reserved for blood relatives.
Behind me, Mrs. Vale went still.
I pointed at the photograph.
“Who is she?”
Her face changed.
May you like
For the first time all night, someone in Austo Castillion’s house looked afraid to answer me.
“That,” she whispered, “is the reason your father has been afraid of Mr. Castillion for twenty-two years.”
