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PROLOGUE
BEFORE
Caroline Castellani fellin love with Redwood Manor the first moment she saw it. It was grotesque, an uncanny valley version of the stately homes of Europe, a monument to insecurity and narcissism.
And yet, she loved it.
The estate was vast, having first encroached upon and then swallowed up its neighbors over time. The grounds contained several separate gardens, the tall hedges of a maze, lush swathes of endless and vibrant green grass, with everything kept in meticulous order by an army of dedicated landscapers who tended to every detail of the property.
The house itself mimicked a French chateau, broad and neat, endless windows looking out over the grounds. But there was one place that the windows’ gaze could not penetrate: the fountain garden, expertly designed to take advantage of both the sun’s rays and the moonlight at night.
A statue of Mars stood sentinel in the middle of a deep oval fishpond, surrounded by lush beds of brightly colored flowers, some native to California, others imported. The pond included a fountain that ran night and day, and a thousand drops of crystal-clear water shimmered in rainbows at the feet of Mars. The trickling water was hypnotic, a soothing music that Caroline enjoyed more and more as her life became less and less.
She spent a great deal of time staring at the fountain, contemplating the prison she’d made for herself. Her affair with Ciro Castellani had been exciting when it started, their marriage much less so. These days, he was a jailer. But she enjoyed the beauty of the natural things around her: the water, the soft petals between her fingers, the warm green grass under bare feet. When she focused on the detail, she was able to forget the bigger picture, a monstrous satire of money and class.
Her husband lacked both. It had been her job, as a minor English aristocrat, to provide them, but Caroline was not suited to long-term commitment, and Ciro was a difficult man to love. But the main problem was that what Cirodidhave was power, and a strong sense of ownership over her.
She wandered in front of the fountain this morning wearing a simple white dress, her golden hair falling in untamed curls around her face, still half-styled from the party the day before. Her makeup, which she had not bothered to remove, had shifted during her sleep, the smoky eye turned shadowy. It wasn’t as though Ciro would care. He wasn’t here today.
And today wastheday. The day she had been promised. A day of excitement and adventure andescape.
She was glad today had come. Those men from yesterday had worried her, despite her lover’s reassurances. The way they’d stared at her…
Caroline hopped up onto the side of the pond to sit on the wide edge and trailed her fingers in the water. There had been koi carp in here up until a few months ago; they had all died together. She and Ciro had had a terrible argument one day, and she’d seen him at the pond the next, sprinkling something into the water.
The day after that, all those glistening fish had turned dull, floating belly-up among the lily pads like unwanted trinkets from a cast-off lover.
She smiled to herself at the thought of her current lover. Anticipation made the time pass quickly, and despite her wariness of being seen, she did not notice the tiny shadow at the edge of the nearby hedge maze.
A small boy, as flaxen-haired as she was, with the same pale blue, unblinking eyes.
Given another few moments, she might have felt the intense gaze on her, but she was distracted; a man approached from the other direction, as dashing as always, dressed in a sharp navy suit and white shirt, open at the neck. He lifted her off the fountain by the waist and spun her around as she laughed.
This was the beginning of their story.
* * *
At the edge of the nearby hedge maze, five-year-old Julian Castellani watched his mother with puzzlement. She had told him they were leaving today, heading off to Europe to start a new life.
Julian hadn’t been sure he wanted to go, but she’d promised him it would be just the two of them. And now there she was, laughing with a man who swung her around and then kissed her.
And the man was not Ciro, his father. His father never wore navy.
He knew he shouldn’t watch, but he couldn’t help himself. It was in his nature. He’d always been curious.
And his mother had always been secretive.
He wanted to know what the man was saying to her to make her laugh like that. He was already leaving her, walking backward with his hands still in hers, murmuring something—Julian listened hard, and managed to catch the last few words. “...knows nothing, I promise you. Wait here. I’ll be back.”
His mother sat down on the side of the fountain again, her brow furrowed as she stared into the water. Julian wondered if she was thinking of Ciro.Don’t tell Ciro about our adventure, she had warned him.
That was alright. Julian knew how to keep a secret.
But waiting and watching became dull after a while. He stepped to the side, and the rustling caught his mother’s attention this time. She whirled around, her face in an expression Julian had come to associate with fear, but it softened when she saw him.
“What are you doing, my little golden child?” she asked. “You’re supposed to be up in the house. Come here to Mummy for a hug,” she said, opening her arms for him.
He came out for the hug. “Who was that man?” he asked.
