Chapter 7 - The Aunt Who Called It Love
Emma did not meet Celeste alone.
Miriam arranged a conversation at her office, with all parties informed about who would attend and how the meeting would be documented.
Celeste arrived wearing a cream coat and carrying flowers.
She paused in the doorway when she saw Emma.
For one extraordinary second, her face lost its preparation.
“You look like her.”
Emma remained seated.
“So people keep telling me.”
Celeste placed the flowers on a side table.
“I never stopped thinking about you.”
“You thought I was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then thinking about me must have been easy.”
Miriam touched her pen to the page.
Celeste sat.
Up close, she looked older than her photographs.
Perfectly dressed.
Carefully tired.
She asked about Emma’s health, Rebecca, nursing school.
The questions felt intimate in the wrong way.
Like someone trying doors.
Finally, Emma interrupted.
“What did you want to tell me about Nora?”
Celeste folded her hands.
“That she knew more than she admits.”
“I’m aware.”
“She kept you from us.”
“Did she?”
“Clearly.”
“Then why did someone threaten Rebecca?”
Celeste blinked.
“I have no knowledge of that.”
“Why does your husband’s contractor appear connected to the tracker in my bag?”
“You would have to ask him.”
“Investigators are.”
Celeste’s mouth tightened.
There it was.
The first crack beneath the concern.
She turned toward Miriam.
“Perhaps this conversation has become unproductive.”
Miriam’s voice stayed even.
“You requested it.”
Celeste stood.
Before leaving, she looked at Emma.
“Your brother is not the man you think he is.”
Emma felt the old manipulation shift shape.
Salvatore’s crimes were real.
That did not make Celeste truthful.
“I know he has things to answer for.”
Celeste seemed surprised.
Emma continued.
“That doesn’t answer my questions about you.”
The meeting ended.
No confession.
No dramatic threat.
Just a woman leaving her flowers behind.
Later, Salvatore called.
Emma told him what had happened.
He grew quiet.
“She used to do that when I questioned her.”
“Do what?”
“Point toward something worse.”
Emma looked at the flowers.
White lilies.
The same kind visible beside Elena’s casket in an old family photograph.
She asked the receptionist to donate them somewhere appropriate.
She did not want them in her apartment.
Two days later, Luca discovered an attempt to access Salvatore’s private records through an inactive staff account.
He reported it through counsel.
The account had once belonged to Celeste’s assistant.
Financial investigators obtained additional records.
Adrian began moving assets.
The family’s polished denials acquired urgency.
Then Nora’s facility received another call.
This time, the caller claimed to be Emma and requested that an envelope be given to a courier.
The staff refused.
They had verification procedures in place.
Nora called Emma herself.
“I’m not frightened of telling them anymore.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“I wish you’d reached that point sooner.”
“So do I.”
Her grandmother’s voice shook.
“Is there any way back from what I did?”
Emma looked toward the window.
Across the street, a father helped a small child climb out of a car.
“I don’t know.”
Nora accepted the answer.
For once, she did not fill the silence with reasons.
That mattered.
The following morning, Detective Bell asked Emma and Salvatore to come in separately.
The man who impersonated Keller had been detained on unrelated outstanding charges and was now represented by counsel.
He had supplied information.
Some of it required corroboration.
One detail did not.
He knew exactly where the tracker had been sewn into the bag.
He also identified the person who paid him.
Adrian Bellini.
Emma sat very still.
Bell continued.
“The stated purpose was to locate the recording and determine whether your grandmother had shared it.”
“Not kill Salvatore?”
“We’re investigating the knife attack separately, but there are overlapping contacts.”
Emma thought of the crowd at the mansion.
The weapons.
The fear spreading faster than information.
“What happens now?”
Bell looked at her.
“We keep building the case.”
She nodded.
She wanted thunder.
Handcuffs.
May you like
An ending.
Instead, she received the patient work of making sure an ending could survive.
