Chapter 13 - The Storage Unit on Route 9
The confession hung like suffocating smoke between my parents.
Dad didn't scream or throw anything; his silence was far more devastating.
For thirty years, he had lived with the guilt of having banished his younger brother.
He had spent millions searching for Adrian's grave, believing his brother died an addict in Mexico.
"Where is she, Clara?" Dad asked, staring out the bay window. "Where is Celeste?"
Mom wiped her face with a paper towel.
"She’s in an assisted living facility in Oakwood," Mom admitted softly. "Her mind is fading, Robert. She has early dementia."
"The key," I interrupted, pointing at the brass tag. "What does it open?"
Mom stared at the key with dread.
"It opens a private storage locker at the old rail depot on Route 9," Mom said. "Adrian kept his art and journals there before he disappeared."
"Why did Celeste have it?" I pressed.
"Because before Adrian vanished, he trusted Celeste," Mom whispered. "He was in love with her. And she betrayed him."
Lily, sitting at the small breakfast table, suddenly spoke up.
"Uncle Marcello is outside," she said simply, pointing at the driveway.
I turned to the window.
Marcello’s black SUV had pulled up, but he didn't get out with a smile.
He rushed toward our front door, looking frantic, holding his phone in one hand.
I hurried to unlock the deadbolt.
"Marcello? What happened?"
He stepped inside, breathing heavily.
Sofia was still in the car holding baby Elena.
"Isabella is gone," Marcello whispered, looking terrified.
May you like
"Gone? She was in pretrial custody," I said, feeling ice in my veins.
"She posted bail this morning," Marcello said, his jaw clenching. "An anonymous private trust paid her five-hundred-thousand-dollar bond. And the bank accounts tied to that trust originate from an old firm under my grandfather's name."
