Chapter 17 - Back to the Penthouse
The industrial mop was gone.
So was the rusty bucket.
When Vincent brought Mia back, the penthouse felt unfamiliar.
Too quiet.
She stopped in the foyer.
The blue marker still showed between the marble tiles.
MOM SAID BLUEBIRD.
“Aren’t you mad?” she asked.
“No.”
“It’s on expensive floor.”
“I know.”
“You always say marble is hard to replace.”
Vincent smiled.
“That message helped save us. It stays until you decide otherwise.”
Mia looked at him carefully.
Then she hugged his waist.
Hannah returned as her nanny with one condition.
“If I think something is wrong, I say it. Even if you hate hearing it.”
Vincent nodded.
“Especially then.”
Grace’s photographs returned to the walls.
Celeste’s clothes were boxed for investigators.
Every hidden camera was removed.
Every access code changed.
Vincent cut his travel schedule in half.
Not forever.
But long enough to learn how often Mia watched the front door whenever he left a room.
Therapy began twice a week.
One evening, Mia spilled chocolate milk in the kitchen.
The glass hit tile.
She froze.
“I’m sorry.”
Vincent turned.
She grabbed a towel with both hands.
“I’ll clean all of it. Please don’t—”
He crossed the room and knelt.
“Mia.”
She stared at him.
“It’s milk.”
Her breathing came fast.
“But I made a mess.”
“Yes.”
“Am I bad?”
His heart broke.
“No.”
He handed her a clean towel.
“We clean accidents because floors get sticky. We do not clean as punishment.”
She watched him.
Then nodded.
They wiped the milk together.
Halfway through, Vincent’s phone rang.
Detective Price.
The trial date was set.
But that was not why he called.
“We found another file in Grant’s archive.”
Vincent looked at Mia.
May you like
“What kind?”
Price answered, “It’s about the day you met Celeste.”
