Chapter 8 - THE MUSIC BOX
Ellie’s music box was not gone.
Celestine had told her it broke and was thrown away.
A household employee remembered differently.
Maria Lopez, the estate housekeeper, had seen Celestine carry it into a storage room.
Why say nothing?
“She’s Mrs. Marco.”
Maria looked ashamed.
“She told me Mr. Victor wanted Isabella’s things removed.”
Victor felt that sentence like a blow.
His name had been used to erase his wife.
“Did you believe her?”
“Yes.”
He did not punish Maria.
Fear and hierarchy were part of the house he built.
That was his responsibility too.
They found the music box in sealed estate storage.
Damaged.
Not destroyed.
Inside the base was a hidden audio recorder.
Victor stared.
Isabella had apparently decided letters were insufficient.
The recording began with her voice.
“Ellie is asleep, Victor is downstairs pretending he doesn’t like the piano, and I am about to sound insane.”
Victor laughed despite himself.
Rose cried.
Then Isabella explained everything she knew up to that point.
Celestine’s research into Rose.
Harrow.
Marco’s badge.
The hospital threat.
The protective Whitaker identity.
Marco’s later regret.
Isabella’s worry that Celestine was destroying records.
Then:
“I do not believe Celestine wanted Ellie kidnapped.”
Important.
“I believe she wanted information and control, and when Harrow used what she gave him to threaten our baby, she chose to hide her own wrongdoing instead of protecting us with the truth.”
Victor closed his eyes.
Precise.
That was the crime of character.
Not masterminding every horror.
Protecting herself after learning the cost.
Isabella continued:
“Marco wanted to tell Victor. Celestine begged him not to. She told him Victor would destroy their marriage, take away her access to family assets, maybe worse.”
Victor looked away.
Would younger Victor have reacted dangerously?
Maybe.
That truth mattered.
“Marco delayed.”
Then his accident.
After Marco died, Isabella confronted Celestine again.
Celestine admitted Harrow had threatened her too.
She claimed she wanted the past buried.
Isabella agreed temporarily because Celestine had a teenage daughter from a previous marriage who could be harmed by scandal.
Victor frowned.
Celestine had a daughter?
Yes.
Sophie.
Twenty now.
Studying in London.
Rarely mentioned.
Victor knew her.
Not well.
Isabella had protected Sophie.
Even while distrusting Celestine.
Then the recording reached the final year of Isabella’s life.
“I am sick.”
Victor stopped.
Isabella had died from an aggressive autoimmune complication.
He knew.
Apparently she knew earlier than he did.
“I may not have time to fix every secret.”
Her voice trembled.
“I have hidden the evidence behind my portrait because Ellie talks to that picture every morning. Celestine hates it. Maybe that makes it the safest place.”
Rose began sobbing.
Victor looked at the broken frame.
Isabella had predicted Celestine’s hate.
Almost.
Then:
“If Celestine starts destroying my things after I’m gone, Victor, please understand she is not fighting a ghost.”
“She is looking for evidence.”
There it was.
Direct.
And:
“Do not let Ellie think preserving me means she cannot love other people.”
Victor’s eyes filled.
“She deserves a family bigger than grief.”
The recording ended.
Ellie had been allowed to hear only age-appropriate portions with therapist support.
One sentence mattered most:
Mommy hid something because she wanted Ellie safe.
That was enough.
Then Sophie called Victor.
Celestine’s daughter.
She had learned about the investigation.
“I need to tell you something about my mother.”
Victor sat.
“Go ahead.”
Sophie’s voice shook.
“She made me search Isabella’s room after the funeral.”
Victor went cold.
“How old were you?”
“Seventeen.”
“What were you looking for?”
“A blue key.”
Victor looked toward the hidden compartment.
The silver key inside.
Not blue.
“What did she say it opened?”
“A bank box.”
Victor frowned.
Another object.
Another missing record.
Sophie continued:
“I found the key.”
Victor stopped.
“And?”
“I lied to her.”
“Why?”
“Because Aunt Isabella had been kind to me.”
Victor’s throat tightened.
“Where is it?”
May you like
“I still have it.”
Another door opened.
