Chapter 7
The old Torrance mansion was searched that night.
Not the ballroom.
The service wing.
The linen room.
The attic.
The cellar.
Behind the east wall, detectives found a narrow hidden chamber.
Not enough for a life.
Enough for secrets.
Inside were children’s clothes.
Old medical papers.
A small wooden box.
And a diary written by Vivian’s grandmother, Rose.
The first entry began sixteen years earlier.
Portia found out Elena was pregnant.
I sat in Detective Harris’s office as she read selected pages aloud.
Elena had worked in my father’s household.
My father loved her.
Or used her.
The diary did not know which.
Portia discovered Elena was carrying his child.
Not Maisie.
Maisie’s mother.
That child was named Celia.
Celia grew up hidden between households, protected by Rose.
Years later, Celia gave birth to Maisie.
The father was not named.
Then came the final line.
Portia says the De Luca blood must never enter our family line, but the child already has.
Vivian whispered, “What does that mean?”
I looked at Maisie’s birth date.
Then at Vivian.
No.
My mind refused it.
Detective Harris pulled another document from the box.
A DNA report.
Old.
Partial.
Celia Rossi and Vivian Torrance shared a father.
Cedric.
Vivian staggered.
“My father?”
Cedric began to cry.
“I didn’t know Celia was mine.”
Portia had hidden his child.
May you like
Then hidden his grandchild.
Then slapped that child beside a vase containing the proof.
