Chapter 10 - The House on the Hill
Twenty-four hours later, the storm had moved from the church to the media.
Every major news network carried the headline:
SOCIETY HEIRESS POISONED: STEPMOTHER ARRESTED AT MEMORIAL SERVICE.
Helena was held without bail at the county detention facility.
Her offshore bank accounts were frozen by federal injunctions.
Julian had been released after eighteen hours of intense interrogation.
The authorities concluded he was guilty of gross negligence and cowardice, but not murder.
Yet Julian could not return to the Vance estate.
Public outrage was deafening; reporters surrounded his residence day and night.
Meanwhile, Ricardo took Bia to his quiet farm in upstate New York.
It was an old stone house surrounded by rolling green pastures and tall oak trees.
There were no high-society cameras here.
No whispers, no fake condolences, no smell of funeral lilies.
Just the sound of the autumn wind through the leaves and a warm stone fireplace.
Bia sat on the porch swing, wrapped in a thick woolen blanket.
In her lap sat Penny.
Ricardo sat beside her with a needle and a spool of red thread.
"Want me to fix her up, Bia?" Ricardo asked softly.
Bia looked at the torn stuffing spilling out of Penny’s belly.
"Mommy stitched her with red thread because she said love is red," Bia murmured.
Ricardo smiled gently.
"Then red thread it is."
May you like
Carefully, patiently, his scarred, calloused fingers began sewing the doll back together.
Stitch by stitch, closing the wound where the dark secret had been hidden.
