Chapter 5
Rocco did not let me watch the whole video at first.
He thought he was protecting me.
I was done being protected from truth.
“Show me,” I said.
“Audrey.”
“Show me.”
He handed me the phone.
The footage came from a hidden camera in Brenda’s study.
I recognized the room.
Dark wood shelves.
Gold-framed portraits.
The locked cabinet Brenda always said held family history.
In the video, Brenda stood beside Celia Voss, who wore a red coat and black gloves.
Celia opened a folder.
My name was printed on the tab.
Audrey Marcelli.
My maiden name had been crossed out with thick black ink.
Brenda tapped the papers.
“She refused the first report.”
Celia shrugged.
“Then we give her something she cannot refuse.”
My pulse roared in my ears.
Celia pulled out another document.
A paternity result.
Negative.
Fake.
Already signed.
Already dated.
Brenda smiled.
“Preston will leave her by morning.”
Celia said, “And if Rocco interferes?”
Brenda’s smile disappeared.
“Then I remind him what happened to Luca.”
Rocco took the phone from my hand.
But I had heard enough.
“Who is Luca?”
The silence told me everything.
A family secret.
A dead one.
Rocco turned away.
Gary looked at the floor.
“Tell me,” I said.
Rocco’s voice was rough.
“Luca was my first son.”
I stared at him.
“Preston had a brother?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Rocco sat slowly, as if the memory had weight.
“Luca died before Preston was born. Brenda said it was a crib accident.”
My skin prickled.
“She said?”
“I believed her.”
Gary looked up.
“Until tonight.”
No one spoke.
Then Rocco said the words like they hurt his mouth.
“I think Brenda hurt him.”
I covered my mouth.
The room blurred.
My baby kicked once.
Small.
Sharp.
Alive.
Rocco looked at my stomach and his face broke.
“I let that woman stay near another child.”
“You didn’t know,” I whispered.
“I should have.”
The door opened.
Preston stood there.
He had heard.
His face was white.
“Luca?” he said.
Rocco closed his eyes.
Preston walked in slowly.
“I had a brother?”
Brenda had stolen that from him too.
For the first time that day, I saw Preston not as the man who failed me, but as a boy raised inside a house full of locked doors.
But pity was not forgiveness.
Not yet.
Gary’s phone buzzed.
He read the message and stiffened.
“Police reached the mansion. Brenda and Celia are gone.”
Rocco stood.
“How?”
“Service entrance. Five minutes before officers arrived.”
Preston grabbed his jacket.
“I’m going.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
I pushed myself upright.
“You run every time you are scared. Not tonight.”
His eyes filled.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Choose.”
He stared at me.
“Choose me and this baby out loud, with action. Or choose your mother and leave.”
The room held its breath.
Preston looked at Rocco.
Then at Gary.
Then at me.
He took off his wedding ring and placed it on the tray.
My heart cracked.
Then he said, “I am leaving this here until I earn the right to wear it.”
May you like
He turned to Gary.
“Give me a statement form.”
