Chapter 1 – THE LIES WE SWALLOW

Marco did not yell.

He didn’t throw his glass or overturn the table.

He simply stared at the woman he had planned to marry.

“You visited my brother in prison,” Marco said.

Celeste’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “Marco, she’s confused. She’s an old woman.”

Helen’s trembling hands gripped her tea cup. “I am not confused, Susie. I saw the visitor log when I went to see him.”

Marco turned to his head of security, standing silently near the door. “Victor.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Call the warden at SCI Chester. Right now.”

Celeste panicked. She reached for Marco’s arm. “Darling, wait. I did go see him. But it was only to tell him to stay away from us!”

Marco stepped back, letting her hand fall to her side.

“You told me you didn’t know him.”

“I was protecting our future!” Celeste cried, tears spilling over her mascara. “He ruined this family once. I knew if he got out, he would try to poison you against me.”

Marco’s eyes were completely cold. “By telling me what really happened the night my father died?”

Celeste swallowed hard. “He’s a liar, Marco. He always has been.”

Helen stood up. Her wet dress clung to her frail frame, but her voice was remarkably steady.

“Daniel never lied to you, Marco. He took the blame for the embezzled money because he knew the police were looking closely at the family business. If they kept digging, they would have found the truth about your father’s accident.”

Marco went completely still.

His father had died in a hit-and-run twenty years ago. The case was never solved.

“What truth?” Marco whispered.

Helen reached into her damp, worn purse. She pulled out a small, tarnished silver key.

“Daniel found the car,” Helen said. “The one that hit your father.”

The dining room erupted into shocked whispers.

Marco took the key. His hand was shaking. “Where is it?”

“In a storage unit in South Philly,” Helen said. “Daniel hid it. He paid the rent in cash for two years before he went to prison. I’ve been paying it since.”

Celeste backed away toward the hallway. “This is a setup. She’s trying to extort you, Marco.”

Marco didn’t look at her. “Victor.”

The security guard stepped forward.

“Escort Celeste to the guest wing,” Marco ordered. “Pack her things. She leaves tonight.”

“Marco, no!” Celeste screamed. “You can’t do this to me! I love you!”

Victor grabbed her arm, pulling her firmly but carefully out of the dining room. Her screams echoed down the marble hallway until the heavy doors shut.

Marco stared at the silver key.

Then he looked at me.

“Olivia.”

My stomach clenched. “Yes, sir?”

“My aunt is freezing. Please take her to a warm room. Give her dry clothes.”

“Of course, Mr. Bellini.”

I gently wrapped my arm around Helen’s shoulders, leading her away from the staring guests. We walked down the quiet servant’s corridor to my small quarters.

I gave her my warmest sweater and a pair of dry sweatpants.

“Thank you, dear,” Helen whispered as she sat on the edge of my narrow bed.

“You’re safe now, Mrs. D’Angelo.”

She reached into her purse one last time.

“I need you to do something for me, Olivia.”

She pulled out a crumpled, blood-stained photograph.

“Give this to Marco. But only when he is away from this house. Only when he is alone.”

I took the photograph. It was an old Polaroid.

I turned it over.

It showed a damaged black sedan sitting in a dark garage.

And standing next to the shattered bumper was Marco’s head of security, Victor.

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