Chapter 2 — The House of Perfect Lies
Within forty-eight hours, the truth began surfacing.
One former maid disappeared after agreeing to speak.
A retired chauffeur accepted Marco's protection in exchange for his testimony.
An elderly nurse cried through an entire interview.
She remembered six-year-old Harper arriving with broken ribs.
Preston had claimed she fell from a horse.
She hadn't.
Every injury had a different excuse.
Falling downstairs.
A skiing accident.
Gymnastics.
Clumsiness.
Always believable.
Always carefully documented.
Always false.
The nurse slid one photograph across the table.
A little blonde girl.
Eight years old.
Smiling for a charity gala.
Beneath the elegant white dress, her arms were wrapped in fresh bandages.
Marco carried everything back to Enzo.
Neither man spoke while reviewing the evidence.
Finally Enzo asked one question.
"Where was her mother?"
Marco hesitated.
"Dead."
Enzo looked up.
"Car accident."
Marco placed another folder down.
"Except..."
"The brake lines were cut."
The room became very still.
Harper wasn't simply abused.
She had inherited something.
Something valuable enough for Preston to eliminate his own wife and spend twenty years controlling his daughter through fear.
That evening Enzo walked into Harper's sitting room.
She immediately stood.
"I'm sorry if I—"
"Stop apologizing."
She froze.
He handed her a photograph.
She stared at the image of herself as a child.
Her hands began shaking.
"I thought they destroyed these."
"They missed one."
She quietly sat down.
"I don't remember most of my childhood anymore."
"You do."
Enzo said softly.
"You just taught yourself not to."
Harper finally looked at him.
"Why are you helping me?"
Enzo answered honestly.
May you like
"Because monsters don't get to pretend they're fathers."
For the first time, Harper believed him.
