Hannah turned to him. “Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did you suspect?”
He swallowed. “I knew there was something about Calder Street. I knew my mother received money from the sale. I did not know it was yours.”
“You never asked.”
“No.”
“You never asked why she hated me.”
“No.”
“You never asked why every family dinner ended with me in the kitchen.”
Luke’s eyes reddened. “I was afraid.”
“Of her?”
“Of losing the life I had.”
Hannah looked at the broken table, the flowers floating in wine, the guests who had suddenly found the floor fascinating.
“You lost it anyway.”
His face crumpled slightly.
That hurt more than an argument would have. Hannah had wanted him to defend her for years. She had imagined a grand speech, a slammed door, a dramatic refusal to return to his mother’s house.
She had never imagined that when he finally stood beside her, she would feel no relief.
Only exhaustion.
Charles placed both hands on the chair back. “There is more.”
Rosalie shook her head. “No.”
He looked at Hannah. “Your mother did not die believing she had lost everything.”
Hannah stopped breathing.
“What?”
Rosalie took a step toward Charles. “Do not.”
“Lucía knew the deed could be challenged. She had kept every receipt. She had witnesses. She had the original payment ledger.”
“Where is it?” Hannah asked.
Charles touched the small key.
“Your mother gave it to me the night before she died.”
“Why?”
“She was ill. Her heart had been failing for months, though she told almost no one. She asked me to keep the ledger safe and deliver it to you when you were old enough to understand what had happened.”
