Page 23 of Behind These Four Walls
Isla determined she had entered Victor’s hall. It was only nine, and she was surprised at how quiet the mansion was. She wondered where the staff was. Surely everyone hadn’t already retired for the night. She was intending to not push her luck and to head back to her room when familiar voices stopped her. The hall was empty, so she pressed herself against the wall, edging closer to the cracked door with a beam of light spilling through.
“I’m sorry I brought her up again, Dad,” Holland was saying. “It’s just sometimes I really miss her, and I wish you’d find her and tell her you’re sorry. Let her come back. I don’t think it’s right, us erasing her like this. Not speaking of her, like she doesn’t exist.”
“I’m not erasing her, Holland.” Victor’s tone was sharp. He paused, then readjusted. “It’s better for all of us, less confusing for you, if we go on as if without her. Edie’s decided she doesn’t want to be here with us. Let’s let her stay gone.”
Isla’s chest tightened.
Holland insisted. “But she’s not gone, Dad. You said she went abroad and doesn’t want all the Corrigan hype. I get it. But if you promise her you’ll keep her out of the limelight, maybe she’ll come back. Whatever you did, just say sorry and bring her back.”
“Stop it,” Victor barked, his voice reverberating down the hall. “You don’t think I want to? You don’t think I’ve tried? She doesn’t want to be found, and I have to respect her wishes. This life ... is not what she wanted for herself. Shouldn’t we respect that and wait until she’s ready to return?”
“If Edie’s mother was alive, she’d want you to find Edie no matter what. If I hadn’t gotten sick and my mother hadn’t freaked out, Edie wouldn’t have left in the first place. You shouldn’t have let her leave.” Holland’s voice hitched. Isla felt intrusive, listening to their private conversation about personal matters. Their pain locked her up. She considered leaving. It felt wrong to listen in on such a personal conversation, but something kept Isla rooted to her spot.
There was a long stretch of silence and then a couple of sniffles. When Victor resumed speaking, his tone was softer. “One day she’ll come home, okay, Holl? But for now keep up your practice and your classes. I expect perfect scores from your matches. And let’s talk less about Edie and her mother. It makes your mother uneasy.”
Isla wasn’t sure what she was hearing. Why would anything about this Edie or her mother make Brooke Corrigan uneasy? What had really happened with these people? Isla’s own unease continued to grow.
“We don’t speak of them because my mother can’t tolerate even the memory of them? It’s been years, Dad. Who cares?” Holland was angry now.
“I care that we have peace in this house, Holl. You said I know how your mother can be? So should you. I don’t want to fight with her. There is too much going on with the companies, things I’m looking into. Not to mention you have school. Your fall break is about over. You’ll head back, giving your studies and fencing your full attention.”
“Whatever, Dad. You just want me out of your hair so you don’t have to worry about me. Just like with my mother, the only people you care about are the ones who will take over when you step down. Me, I already know you hope I get a husband with another company you can have. I get it. If it was me who’d left the family, you wouldn’t bother looking for me either.”
“Holl, that’s not true,” Victor argued, sounding shocked and hurt. “That’s not what I—”
He was cut off by a rush of noise. Isla barely had time to hide herself around a corner before Holland rushed past, sniffling angrily. Isla waited until Holland’s footsteps faded and the silence returned.
Chapter Eighteen
Isla remained in her hiding area in case Victor decided to follow his daughter to console her and explain what hehadmeant to say. When he didn’t, she chanced a look, the need to see what was going on too strong for her to stay tucked away in a corner. She edged to the doorway, where Holland had left the door wide open when she stormed off.
He was seated at his desk, head in his hands. Isla crouched low to the ground, watching him from outside, hesitant to move on, feeling that there was something more she was supposed to see. She found Victor Corrigan impossible to turn away from. His normally composed demeanor was gone, replaced by the same rawness and vulnerability she had seen in his daughter.
Victor sighed deeply, picking up a small key. He knelt out of sight, and the next thing Isla heard was a drawer opening. When he stood again, he was holding a small wooden box. He placed it on his desk and stood there unmoving, deciding whether to open it. He opened it after one last push. When he did, he stared down at its contents without moving or taking anything from it. He just looked.
“Edie,” he sighed, his voice growing thick with emotion, “how’d it all come to this? Why didn’t you just come to me? Why didn’t you tell me about your mother?”
Despite her purpose coming here, she felt intrusive and confused. The heartless tycoon he displayed in public was not the man she was witnessing now. This man was very much the opposite. Isla felt like avoyeur watching Victor at his most vulnerable, but whatever that was in the box making him so emotional had piqued her interest. He gathered himself quickly, snapped the lid of the box shut, put it back where he’d gotten it from, and began moving toward the door. Isla rushed back to her hiding place. If she tried to make a break down the hall, he’d see her, and she’d have no excuse for being there. She squeezed in just as Victor emerged from his study.
Victor closed the door behind him, lingering in front of it, deep in thought. Isla pressed back farther against the wall, willing her heart to stop beating so loudly she swore he’d be able to hear it. She held her breath, hoping the shadows held her in their cloak of invisibility. Isla didn’t breathe again until his footsteps faded away and the hall was clear.
She straightened, her knees unreliable from her previous position. She turned to go back the way she came before her luck ran out and someone caught her where she wasn’t supposed to be. But the secret box encouraged her to push her luck a little bit more.
She expected the door of a mogul to be locked, but it wasn’t. Maybe he thought no one would dare trespass in his own home. Or maybe he’d forgotten after the blowup he’d had with Holland. Isla didn’t ponder it long. She turned the knob and entered the study, lit only by the moonlight shining in and the one desk lamp he’d left on. She closed the door behind her just in case someone passed by. Time was short, and she hoofed it across the large study to the desk he’d just vacated.
Luck was with Isla again, because in Victor’s haste to leave, he’d pushed the drawer closed, but he hadn’t ensured it had closed all the way, which meant the lock hadn’t engaged, leaving the drawer open a crack. The contents of that drawer called to her like a siren.
She opened it, doing just as Victor had done and pulling the box from it. She didn’t sit in the chair. She stayed there on the floor, tracing the intricately carved lines on the box. The edges of the box were worn from too much handling. She opened the box.
Her two worlds collided.
She saw the photograph first and picked it up as if it were made of glass and might shatter upon touch. She recognized a younger version of the girl she knew as Eden. Eden—Edie, as Holland had called her—smiled back at her. Her arm was slung happily around Victor’s neck. They were outside, amid an oasis of bright flowers and lush greenery. They both looked younger, and happier than Isla had ever seen either of them be.
Isla blinked away tears. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the grief and pain from spilling out. Eden was a Corrigan? Isla set the photo aside, a glint of metal catching her eye. Her breath caught at the bracelet, the one with a tiny key to the locket chain Eden’s mother owned and had given to Eden before she died. Eden had worn her bracelet and her mother’s chain ever since.
In the time Isla had known Eden, the bracelet had never left her wrist. But here it was, in a box in Victor’s study. She took out the last item: a letter-size envelope addressed to Victor, with Eden’s name and a return address that was Eden and Elise’s home.
Carefully, she opened the letter.