Chapter 2 - THE HOUSE THAT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE SOLD
"That's the house your father left to your daughter!"
Rose Castellano's trembling voice filled Anthony's private study.
I stared at the television.
On the ballroom screen, two buildings stood side by side.
The first was Harbor Street Women's Shelter, where my nineteen-year-old sister lived.
The second was a beautiful three-story house surrounded by old maple trees.
Anthony gripped the edge of his desk.
"That's Hawthorne House."
Rose nodded.
"Your father left it to Ava. He made you promise it would always belong to her."
Ava Castellano was Anthony's ten-year-old daughter.
I'd met her several times during my fourteen months working at the mansion.
She was quiet, curious, and loved drawing flowers on the backs of old envelopes.
I knew she visited her grandfather's house every summer.
I hadn't known she owned it.
Anthony's security director, Marcus Keene, appeared in the doorway.
"Sir, the auctioneer is preparing to announce a redevelopment partnership."
"With whom?"
"North Quay Development."
Rose's face tightened.
"Christopher mentioned that company last Christmas."
Anthony looked at the television again.
His younger brother stood beside Victoria, smiling proudly.
Then Victoria raised her microphone.
"Tonight, we're celebrating a historic opportunity to transform two aging properties into something extraordinary."
Anthony reached for his phone.
"Marcus, stop that presentation."
But I was still holding my own phone.
"Lily?" I whispered.
My sister was breathing quickly.
"Megan, they're putting notices on everybody's doors."
"Don't sign anything."
"Some people already did."
"What?"
"They said anyone who cooperates will receive relocation money."
My stomach dropped.
Before I could answer, Anthony took the phone gently from my hand.
"Lily, this is Anthony Castellano. Listen carefully. Nobody is being required to leave tonight. I'm sending people who can help."
There was silence.
Then Lily asked a question I would never forget.
"Are you the man who owns our shelter?"
Anthony looked at the television.
"I honestly don't know anymore."
He handed the phone back.
"Stay with the director," he told Lily. "Marcus is arranging help."
Then he walked out.
I followed him into the ballroom.
Ninety wealthy guests sat beneath crystal chandeliers.
Victoria was discussing luxury apartments, new commercial spaces, and an improved housing program for vulnerable women.
Christopher stood beside a polished architectural model.
And directly in the center of that model was Hawthorne House.
Anthony stepped onto the stage.
"Stop the auction."
The orchestra fell silent.
Victoria turned.
"Anthony, darling, we're in the middle of something."
"I said stop."
Christopher approached him.
"Brother, this isn't the place."
Anthony pointed toward the model.
"Who authorized the sale of Hawthorne House?"
Christopher's smile disappeared.
"The acquisition is part of a larger financing arrangement."
"That wasn't my question."
Victoria glanced toward the guests.
"Anthony, you're embarrassing the foundation."
He faced her.
"Twenty minutes ago, you publicly accused an innocent employee of stealing thirty thousand dollars."
A murmur spread across the ballroom.
"Now I discover that the company receiving foundation money is controlled by my brother."
Christopher stepped forward.
"Harborbridge is a legitimate consulting business."
"Then explain why it owns a women's shelter."
"Because the foundation needed a redevelopment partner."
"And my daughter's house?"
Christopher didn't answer.
Rose entered behind us.
Although eighty-two, she stood straight beneath the chandeliers.
"That house belongs to Ava," she said.
Several guests exchanged uncomfortable looks.
Victoria lowered her microphone.
"Rose, please. This is complicated."
"No," Rose replied. "It's very simple. My husband left that house to his granddaughter because he knew nobody should ever take her home away."
Christopher looked toward Anthony.
"You need to see the authorization before making accusations."
He opened a leather portfolio.
Inside was a three-page document.
The first page described a proposed redevelopment district.
The second listed both properties.
The third carried two signatures.
Rose Castellano.
Anthony Castellano.
My heart sank.
Anthony picked up the document.
"Where did you get this?"
"You signed it eight months ago," Christopher answered. "At your waterfront office."
Anthony read the final paragraph.
Then he went completely still.
Victoria watched him carefully.
"You remember now, don't you?"
Rose reached for the document.
"Anthony?"
He turned it toward the chandelier light.
His expression changed from anger to something far worse.
Recognition.
"That's my signature," he said.
Christopher exhaled.
"Exactly."
But Anthony didn't look relieved.
He looked at me.
Then at his grandmother.
May you like
And finally at the image of his daughter's house.
"God help me," he whispered. "I remember signing this."
Related Stories
