Chapter 2
The silver key felt heavier than it should have.
It lay in my palm beneath the nursery light, no longer an odd little object I had found beneath a washing machine, but a piece of something much larger than my failed marriage.
The faded flower stamped into its surface matched the name on the photograph.
Belladonna.
Vincent stood in the doorway, still careful not to step inside without permission.
Celia had risen from the chair by the window. Her knitting sat forgotten in her lap.
Lily rested against my shoulder, warm and drowsy, her rabbit tucked under one arm. She had no idea that three adults were staring at a key as though it might speak.
“Where did you get that?” Vincent asked.
His voice was controlled, but his hand had tightened around the edge of the doorframe.
“I found it in our garage,” I said. “A few days before Ryan changed the locks.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“Did Ryan see you take it?”
“No. At least, I don’t think so.”
Vincent looked toward the hallway.
“Marco.”
The tall man from the study appeared almost immediately, as if he had been waiting just out of sight.
“Clear the room downstairs,” Vincent said. “No calls. No visitors. And find out whether any Belladonna storage sites still use physical keys.”
Marco’s gaze flicked to my hand, but he asked no questions.
“Understood.”
He disappeared.
I closed my fingers around the key.
“You’re not taking it.”
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“You were thinking about it.”
“Yes.”
May you like
The honesty caught me off guard.
Vincent remained where he was.
