Chapter 2: The Face She Wore at Funerals
Part 2 ⬇️
Lily was breathing.
Barely, but breathing.
Leo carried her upstairs wrapped in his coat, her small fingers curled around his collar like she was afraid he might disappear.
Beatrice followed, one hand on the wall to keep herself upright.
Victoria was still in the hallway.
She had composed herself.
Chin lifted.
Eyes dry.
The wine glass was gone.
In its place, her phone — held loosely at her side like a prop she hadn't decided to use yet.
"Leo." Her voice was smooth again.
"She needs a doctor.
Let me call—"
"Don't." He didn't look at her.
"Don't speak.
Don't move.
Don't dial."
Victoria's jaw tightened.
"You're being irrational.
I understand you're upset, but—"
"Mateo." That was all Leo said.
Mateo stepped in front of Victoria.
Not touching her.
Just there.
A wall with eyes.
Beatrice sank into a kitchen chair.
Someone pressed a cloth to her face.
She didn't know who.
She was watching Victoria.
Because Victoria was watching her phone screen.
Not calling anyone.
Reading something.
And for just a second — one unguarded second — her expression shifted.
Not fear.
Something colder.
Calculation.
Beatrice had seen that look before.
The morning after the bombing that took Lily's mother.
Victoria had worn the same face at the funeral.
Everyone else wept.
Victoria had looked like a woman checking items off a list.
Then Lily tugged Leo's collar and whispered something in his ear.
Leo went very still.
He turned and looked at Beatrice.
Then at Victoria.
Then back at Beatrice.
"She says this isn't the first time."
---
What did Lily tell her father — and what has Victoria been hiding since the day of that bombing?
The full truth is darker than anyone in that room is ready for.
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