Lexus
The passage is narrow, cold, and lined with dust that clings to the air like secrets.
Billie walks behind me, flashlight on her phone casting jagged shadows across the stone walls. My breath fogs in the dim air, but I keep moving forward until the passage opens into a small chamber. It smells of mildew, old paper, and… something else. Regret, maybe.
The room is filled with boxes. No gold. No jewelry. Just records. Stacks of folders and leather-bound journals meticulously labeled in Marissa's handwriting.
"Holy hell," Billie whispers, walking past me.
She crouches beside a wooden chest, flipping the latch. Inside—files. Dozens. One of them bears a name that stops me cold:
Penelope Greene.
The maid.
My father's mistress.
Billie flips through the folder, and I kneel beside her as the pieces start falling into place. There are letters from my father, passionate and desperate, promising Penelope he'd leave Marissa. That they would raise the child together.
