Page 76 of Whispers of Wisteria

Gloria’s hand paused over her notebook. At the same time, Uncle Gregory looked up sharply, and Bryce shot me an unreadable look.

“Bianca,” Gloria started. “Do you know who they were before they came here?”

I looked at her and frowned. “They—they said they were princesses,” I said. “And I was special too. That—that was why they wanted us.”

“When you say you got into ‘trouble,’ what do you mean?” Uncle Gregory asked.

My mouth opened, but I couldn’t find the words.

“We weren’t supposed to sing,” I said finally. I touched my throat. “But—but she’d do it when I was… hurt. We got caught. I—I was already not—not well. They—they wanted to punish Chaya instead.”

I looked to the ground. My vision blurred as my chest grew tighter. “Nisha pretended to be her. She—she didn’t come back.”

“How long after that did Chaya escape?” Gloria asked.

“It wasn’t like that,” I said, squeezing my fists at my sides.

“What—” Gloria began, but stopped when her attention moved beside me.

“Bianca—” Uncle Gregory stepped in front of me, and I remembered, distantly, that he hadn’t wanted me to come. “You’re doing well. But you don’t need to keep going. We can stop here.”

I shook my head. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t afraid anymore.

I couldn’t feel much of anything at all.

“I’m fine.” I kept my gaze low and stepped around him. “What else do you want to know?”

Damen frowned. “Anything you want to tell us. It’s up to you.”

I looked around the vaguely familiar room. “This was the kitchen.”

Obviously, and it felt stupid to say, but it was easier to focus on facts.

No one spoke as I crossed the room. The wooden door had broken into two—the top half was missing. I stepped through it to the hallway,

Striped wallpaper still covered parts of the walls, and the beige chair railing was dirty and chipped in places.

I trailed my fingers along the trim the way I used to.

I moved through the familiar path until I reached a wide opening in the wall.

“There were doors here. We couldn’t go there. Mr. Richards would talk to people there.”

I bit my lip and looked away from the adjoining hallway to my left.

Detective Kohler stopped writing and looked at me. “But?”

I exhaled slowly and glanced to the right. “The other girl’s rooms are that way.” My fingers clenched my sleeves.

“The ones that were meant to be adopted?” Gloria asked.

“Yeah…” I said, looking left again, and my throat went dry.

“You keep looking down the hallway.” Uncle Gregory’s voice broke through the numbness. “What about it bothers you?”

My attention lingered on a certain door, and my breath hitched.

It was still in one piece.