Chapter 1 - THE BRIDE NOBODY WANTED
“One is still missing,” I said, closing the wooden case. “It can never come back.”
Nobody asked what I meant.
But the man in dark glasses turned his head toward me.
His name was Adrian Castellano.
Thirty-nine years old.
The only surviving son of a family whose name had been spoken in whispers across Rhode Island for three generations.
He stood beside the fireplace, one hand resting on a black cane.
He had said almost nothing since arriving.
Now he spoke.
“What is missing?”
I looked at him.
For a moment, I couldn't answer.
Then I said quietly:
“My mother.”
The room fell silent.
Petra rolled her eyes.
“Oh, for heaven's sake.”
I ignored her.
Adrian didn't.
“Mrs. Whitfield,” he said.
His voice was calm.
“Please don't interrupt her.”
Petra blinked.
Nobody spoke to her that way.
Not in her own house.
Adrian turned back toward me.
“Your mother made instruments?”
I nodded.
“Violins. Violas. Cellos.”
“Was she good?”
I looked down at the wooden case.
“She was extraordinary.”
His fingers tightened slightly around the cane.
“What was her name?”
“Eleanor Whitfield.”
For the first time, Adrian Castellano seemed genuinely surprised.
He went completely still.
Then whispered:
“Eleanor.”
I frowned.
“You knew her?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he asked:
“Did she build a cello with a carved silver leaf beneath the bridge?”
My heart stopped.
“Yes.”
Adrian lowered his head.
For a moment, I thought he might be remembering something painful.
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Then he said:
“I believe I know where your mother's cello is.”
