Chapter 1
Luciano did not let anyone touch the boxes.
Not Celina.
Not the house staff.
Not even Marianne.
He carried Ellie away from the reception himself while his security chief ordered the remaining guests out of the east wing.
Celina shouted after him.
“Luciano, you’re misunderstanding this!”
He kept walking.
Ellie had buried her face against his shoulder.
“Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“Do I have to go tonight?”
That question stopped him halfway up the staircase.
Luciano looked at his daughter.
“No.”
“Tomorrow?”
“No.”
“After your wedding?”
“There isn’t going to be a wedding.”
Ellie stared at him.
At three, she understood tone better than legal relationships.
“Because I was bad?”
Luciano felt something cold move through his chest.
“No.”
He carried her into her bedroom.
Then he stopped.
The room was almost empty.
Her books were gone.
Half the closet had been cleared.
The stuffed animals she slept with were missing.
The framed photograph of Ellie with Luciano and her late mother, Rebecca, had been removed from the dresser.
Only the bed and heavy furniture remained.
This was not something Celina had done during the reception.
It had taken planning.
Luciano set Ellie down.
“Where are your things?”
Ellie pointed toward the hallway.
“Celina said new room.”
“What new room?”
The child shrugged.
“Far.”
Marianne appeared in the doorway.
“I found the staff packing two hours ago.”
Luciano turned.
“And nobody called me?”
“They said they had written instructions.”
“From who?”
Marianne looked toward the stairs.
“Celina.”
Luciano’s jaw tightened.
“Why didn’t you stop it immediately?”
“I did.”
“Then why bring the boxes downstairs?”
“Because if I told you Celina had emptied Ellie’s room, she would have denied it.”
Marianne’s voice hardened.
“I wanted you to see them.”
Luciano looked at the empty shelves.
Then at his daughter.
“What exactly were the staff told?”
Marianne handed him a printed work order.
It instructed the staff to pack Ellie’s belongings, inventory them, and prepare them for transfer after the wedding.
Destination:
To be confirmed.
Luciano read it twice.
The document had Celina’s signature.
But something else bothered him.
This was not an angry woman deciding she disliked a child that afternoon.
This was organized.
And the word transfer appeared three times.
Luciano folded the paper.
“Where is Celina?”
“Library.”
“Keep her there.”
Marianne nodded.
Luciano looked down at Ellie.
The broken school project was still in her hands.
“What was this?”
“My family.”
He crouched.
On the crushed cardboard he could still make out photographs and childish drawings.
Luciano.
Ellie.
Rebecca.
The house.
A crude yellow sun.
Celina was nowhere on it.
Luciano noticed.
May you like
He said nothing.
But it was the first detail he remembered later.
