Chapter 3 - THE YELLOW COAT
“My coat?”
Rebecca's voice sounded almost unrecognizable.
She stared at Evelyn as though the woman had reached across eleven years and grabbed her by the throat.
“That wasn't my coat.”
Evelyn raised an eyebrow.
“Then why did you identify it?”
Damian placed the silver pocket watch on the table.
“Rebecca. Answer her.”
His sister looked toward the reception-room windows.
Beyond the glass, the anniversary celebration continued.
People were laughing.
Champagne glasses were being refilled.
A jazz trio played softly beneath the chandeliers.
Inside that room, my entire childhood was coming apart.
I stepped toward Rebecca.
“The coat was yellow?”
She wouldn't look at me.
“Olivia, I don't remember every detail from eleven years ago.”
“I do.”
Everyone turned.
I swallowed.
“My mother had a yellow coat with brown buttons. She wore it when it rained.”
Walter's eyes filled.
“It wasn't the same coat, dear.”
“What?”
He looked at Rebecca.
“Grace borrowed Rebecca's coat that night. A dark blue wool coat with a torn lining.”
Rebecca sank into a chair.
Damian frowned.
“Why would Grace borrow your coat?”
Walter hesitated.
Then Evelyn answered.
“Because she was afraid somebody was following her.”
I remembered my mother's voice.
Hurry, sweetheart.
Don't look back.
For years, I had believed that memory came from a dream.
Now I wasn't so sure.
“Where was I?” I asked.
Walter looked at me.
“At the hospital.”
“But my mother worked here.”
“She did. Until she discovered the account transfers.”
Evelyn crossed her arms.
“She took you to the hospital because she believed someone there could help her.”
“Who?”
Evelyn's eyes shifted toward Damian.
“His mother.”
Damian stared at her.
“My mother was bedridden.”
“She was ill,” Walter said quietly. “But she hadn't lost her mind. And she understood financial records better than anyone in that family.”
Damian looked down.
For a moment, he seemed older than forty-three.
“My sister told me Mother was confused.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“She was confused.”
Walter's voice hardened.
“No, Rebecca. She was frightened.”
Marcus appeared in the doorway.
“Boss, I've secured the photograph and the bracelet. The guests are asking questions.”
Damian didn't turn.
“Tell them the family needs privacy.”
Marcus nodded.
“And Rebecca?”
“What about her?”
“Her driver is waiting by the service entrance with two suitcases.”
Rebecca shot upright.
“Those are personal belongings.”
Damian finally faced her.
“Were you planning to leave?”
She looked exhausted.
“Can you blame me?”
He said nothing.
“You've already decided I'm guilty.”
“Then give me a reason not to.”
Rebecca's eyes glistened.
“You think Mother was a saint?”
Damian's expression changed.
“Be careful.”
“No. You want the truth? Mother controlled everything. The accounts. The staff. Our lives.”
She pointed toward Walter.
“He helped her do it.”
Walter didn't deny it.
That frightened me more than another accusation would have.
Rebecca stood.
“When Father died, Mother promised we'd be protected. Then she started moving money into private accounts. Money neither of us could access.”
Damian frowned.
“She was protecting the estate.”
“From whom?” Rebecca demanded. “Her own children?”
Evelyn gave a quiet laugh.
“Tell him about the hospital bills, Rebecca.”
Rebecca turned.
“Don't you dare.”
Damian looked between them.
“What hospital bills?”
Rebecca pressed her lips together.
I watched her struggle.
For one brief moment, she looked like a frightened daughter rather than the woman who had ordered me onto my knees.
Then she whispered, “My son.”
I blinked.
Rebecca didn't have children.
At least, I had never heard of any.
Damian slowly pulled out a chair.
“Rebecca?”
She looked away.
“I had a baby when I was twenty-five.”
Walter lowered his head.
Evelyn's smile disappeared.
“His name was Nicholas,” Rebecca continued. “He was born with a serious heart condition.”
Damian sat down.
“You told me you'd lost the pregnancy.”
“Because Mother insisted.”
Her voice broke.
“She said nobody could know. Not the family. Not the business associates. Nobody.”
“Where is he?”
Rebecca began crying.
“He died when he was four.”
The room became painfully quiet.
I thought of Lily.
Her hospital appointments.
The specialist explaining that another operation was necessary.
The way my little girl always tried to smile when she saw me worrying.
For a moment, I understood something about Rebecca I hadn't understood before.
But understanding wasn't forgiveness.
“You should never have been treated that way,” I said.
Rebecca looked at me.
I continued.
“But you had no right to treat Walter or me the way you did tonight.”
She lowered her eyes.
Damian spoke quietly.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Mother made me believe you'd hate me.”
He shook his head.
“I would have helped.”
Rebecca gave a broken laugh.
“I know that now.”
Walter cleared his throat.
“Mrs. Castellano didn't demand secrecy because she was ashamed of Nicholas.”
Rebecca turned sharply.
“Don't rewrite history.”
“She was afraid of your father’s associates. The child’s father had connections to men who were trying to take control of the family businesses.”
Damian leaned forward.
“Who was Nicholas's father?”
Rebecca didn't answer.
Evelyn looked toward the window.
“His name was Victor Salerno.”
Damian's chair scraped against the floor.
I had heard that name before.
Even someone who worked only as a waitress knew it.
Victor Salerno had been Damian's father's closest business partner.
He had disappeared years earlier after a financial scandal.
Damian's eyes darkened.
“Victor was forty when Rebecca was twenty-five.”
Rebecca looked at the floor.
“He made promises.”
Walter nodded sadly.
“And your mother spent years trying to protect you from the consequences.”
Damian looked toward Evelyn.
“How do you know all this?”
Evelyn's expression tightened.
“Because I was the nurse who cared for Nicholas.”
I stared at her.
“So you knew my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know her well?”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Better than you realize.”
I moved closer.
“Then tell me what happened the night she died.”
Evelyn glanced toward Walter.
“She came to the hospital carrying a ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The one proving how the Castellano money was being moved.”
Damian narrowed his eyes.
“By Rebecca?”
“Not entirely.”
Walter's cane slipped from his hand.
I bent to retrieve it.
Something fell from the torn leather pouch attached near the handle.
A small brass key.
It had been wrapped in a faded yellow ribbon.
Walter quickly reached for it.
But I picked it up first.
An address was engraved on the metal tag.
I recognized the street.
It was three blocks from the hospital where my mother supposedly died.
“What's this?”
Walter looked terrified.
“Olivia, please give me that.”
“Why?”
“Because there are things you aren't ready to see.”
I tightened my fingers around the key.
“People have been deciding what I'm ready to know for eleven years.”
Damian stood beside me.
“Where does it lead?”
Walter closed his eyes.
“A storage room Grace rented before she died.”
I looked at the engraved number.
Unit 214.
“And what's inside?”
Walter whispered, “Everything she was afraid they would destroy.”
Evelyn suddenly reached for the key.
Marcus caught her wrist.
“Don't,” he warned.
She pulled away.
“Opening that room would be a terrible mistake.”
I faced her.
“Why?”
Her eyes filled with something that looked almost like grief.
“Because Grace didn't hide that room from Rebecca.”
Walter began shaking his head.
May you like
Evelyn continued.
“She hid it from Damian.”
