Chapter 7 – The Rosary

I stared at Roman, the air leaving my lungs.

“You knew?” I choked out. “You knew Julian was my father?”

“Julian was my little brother,” Roman said, his voice thick with a grief that had clearly never healed. “When he died in that crash with Maya, it broke our family. But before he died, he told me Madeline was pregnant. He told me he was going to have another daughter.”

“Then why didn’t you ever come for us?” I asked, tears finally spilling over my cheeks. “We were starving, Roman. My mother worked herself to the bone. Why didn’t you help us?”

Roman closed his eyes. “Because I thought Madeline was the one who cut the brakes.”

The basement felt suddenly freezing.

“What?”

“Victoria told me Madeline was trying to kill Julian for his life insurance,” Roman said bitterly. “She showed me forged financial documents. I wanted to destroy your mother, Claire. But Eleanor begged me to let her go. So I stayed away. Until two years ago, when Victoria suddenly insisted on hiring a new maid.”

“Victoria hired me?” I asked, stunned. “Why?”

“Keep your enemies close,” Roman murmured, looking at the corkboard. “She wanted to keep an eye on you. To make sure you never discovered the truth about Isabella’s death.”

Before I could process any of this, the heavy basement door slammed shut behind us.

The lock clicked.

“Hello, Roman.”

Victoria’s voice came through the thick wood of the door.

“Victoria!” Roman roared, slamming his fist against the door. “Open this door!”

“I don’t think so,” Victoria laughed, though it sounded hysterical. “I came back for my insurance policy. The teacup. But it looks like you found it.”

“The police are already digging up Isabella’s body,” Roman shouted. “It’s over, Victoria. You’re going to prison.”

“They won’t find anything,” Victoria said smugly. “I paid the coroner to cremate her body three years ago. The grave is empty.”

Roman froze.

“But you, Roman,” Victoria continued, her voice dripping with malice. “You’re going to die down there. A tragic gas leak in the old cellar. And little Claire goes with you. Madeline loses another child.”

I smelled it then. The sharp, rotten-egg scent of natural gas pumping through the vents.

“She’s turned on the main valve,” Roman said, stripping off his suit jacket and stuffing it under the crack of the door. “Claire, check the air vents. We have to block them.”

I ran to the corner of the room, ripping off my apron and shoving it into the metal grate. But the smell was already overwhelming. My head began to spin.

Roman pulled a heavy metal pipe from a shelving unit and began smashing it against the oak door. Wood splintered, but the heavy iron hinges didn’t budge.

I slumped against the wall, coughing as the gas filled the small room.

“Roman,” I gasped, my vision blurring.

He dropped the pipe and rushed to me, pulling a silver rosary from his pocket. He pressed it into my hand.

“Julian gave this to me,” Roman coughed, his own eyes watering. “He wanted you to have it.”

I gripped the cold beads as the darkness pulled me under.

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