“I like Russell,” he said. “But I don’t like how hard Grandpa pushed this.”
Juliet added, “And I still want to know why Russell gets strange whenever someone mentions that locked room.”
“It’s storage,” I said.
But even as I said it, I remembered how quickly Russell had answered when I first asked.
The wedding was small, warm, and beautiful. Dad walked me down the aisle with tears on his face. Russell stood at the front, watching me like I was something he had never allowed himself to want.
For the first time in years, I believed life might still be kind.
That night, Russell carried my suitcase into his house. I kicked off my heels near the stairs and told him I would unpack after the honeymoon.
He did not move.
His eyes were fixed on the locked door at the end of the hallway.
“Russell?”
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