Page 24 of Grave Secrets

“Okay,” he laughs. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, baby.”

“What are we doing today?” I ask.

“Alan finally got a meeting with Angelo,” he says. “Someone called and set it up.”

“Can I come?” I say happily, popping up to look at him.

“Of course,” he says. “You don’t have to ask permission, baby. Always assume you are welcome wherever I am.”

“I feel insane for not expecting the bare minimum.”

“It’s not insane, Ada. You were traumatized by Chris. He was emotionally abusive, and it takes a while to unlearn those habits,” he tells me. “Let’s get dressed, and we can go to this meeting, hmm?”

“Okay,” I say, leaning up to kiss him. “I love you, Viktor.”

“I love you too, Ada,” he says sweetly, kissing me once more.

Viktor opens my door and takes my hand as I step out. “Hello,” Alan says cheerfully.

“You are awfully happy,” I laugh.

“I am,” he says. “Come see why,” he says. I look at Viktor, and he just shrugs, equally as confused.

We follow behind Alan into the building. I’m not sure what exactly this place is, but when we get inside, I realize that this is a live-in care facility. Why are we here? I say nothing as we walk down a hallway, turn left, and go to the end of that one. We turn into a room, and I see an older man lying in a bed asleep. A man stands from a chair in the corner to greet us.

“Hey, Alan,” the man says, glancing at me. He is probably around Viktor’s age, no more than ten years older.

“Who is he?” I ask Alan, pointing to the man in the bed.

“That is Angelo,” Alan says. “He suffered from a stroke two years ago and has been in a coma since."

“That’s why Christopher went after me,” I say. “He came into my life after his dad had a stroke.”

“That’s what we are thinking,” the man says. “Do you remember me, Ada?”

“Uh,” I say. “I… feel like I should. Did you know my parents?”

“Yes,” he says with a soft smile.

“I don’t have many memories from before they died,” I say. “All of the trauma that happened after their death with foster care… It overshadowed it all.”

“My name is Griffin Pavlov,” he says. “I am your older brother.”

“What?” I ask. “You… I don’t have a brother.”

“You do; he was just a bit of a dumbass in his younger years,” Griffin says. “I am eleven years older than you. When I was fifteen, I killed someone. Mom and Dad agreed that jail was better for me because I could still have a life after. They could have gotten me out of it, but I’m glad they didn’t.”

“When did you get out?” I ask.

“About five years ago,” he says. “By that point, you had long since grown up. I was afraid that me coming into your life would make it worse, so I just watched from the outside with Alan.”

“What is up with you hiding people, Alan?” I ask, and he laughs.

“I just wanted you to see for yourself that Angelo is not a threat to you. It took a long time to track him down, and we assumed he died, but this is far better.”

“Indeed it is,” I say, staring at Angelo. “Well… Griffin, I don’t really know what to say.”

“All I am asking is for a chance to get to know my little sister,” he says. “The last time I saw you… God… Probably when I was first sentenced, and you guys came to visit. They decided it was going to be far too traumatic for you to see me there, so they didn’t bring you up there anymore.”