Chapter 9 - THE BOY WHO SLEPT AT A BUS STATIONEli hated the family residence.
Not because it was bad.
That confused everyone.
He had a clean room.
Food.
A social worker.
Two other children close to his age.
He hated the schedule.
“Why do I have to say where I’m going?”
“Because you’re ten,” Rosalie said.
They were sitting near the fountain.
Eli frowned.
“My mom didn’t always ask.”
“Your mom knew where you were.”
“Not always.”
Rosalie stared.
“That’s not helping.”
Eli kicked at the stone.
The social worker, Nina Alvarez, had told Dante that children who experienced unstable housing sometimes resisted stability because rules felt like control.
Dante understood that too well.
He invited Eli to the estate during the day.
Not to live.
Not yet.
Dante refused to blur guardianship with gratitude.
Eli needed a legal process.
Not a powerful man impulsively claiming him.
One afternoon Rosalie asked:
“Why didn’t you go to foster care after your aunt left?”
Eli shrugged.
“I thought they’d separate me from Mom’s stuff.”
“Your mom was dead.”
“I know.”
“The notebook?”
“And her bag.”
“What’s in it?”
“Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Her scarf.”
Rosalie waited.
“Letters.”
“To you?”
“Some.”
“What else?”
Eli looked uncomfortable.
Dante, nearby, pretended not to listen.
Rosalie caught him.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Leave.”
“This is my courtyard.”
“Go be powerful somewhere else.”
Eli laughed.
Dante walked toward the house.
Mostly.
He stopped just inside the door.
Rosalie continued.
“Did your aunt know about the letter for Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t she bring you?”
“She said Vescari people were dangerous.”
Rosalie frowned.
“She’s not wrong.”
From inside:
“I heard that.”
Rosalie ignored him.
Eli smiled.
“My aunt said Mom was obsessed.”
“With you?”
“With proving stuff.”
“Was she?”
“Maybe.”
Rosalie thought.
“Your mom sounds stubborn.”
“She was.”
“Like me.”
“Like your dad.”
From inside:
“I still hear you.”
Both children laughed.
Then Eli’s face changed.
“My aunt sold some of Mom’s things.”
Rosalie stopped smiling.
“What?”
“For rent.”
“What things?”
“Computer.”
“That had files?”
Eli nodded.
“Did she sell the notebook?”
“She tried.”
“What did you do?”
“Ran.”
Rosalie stared.
“With it?”
“And the letter.”
“Then?”
“I came here.”
Dante stepped back outside.
He could no longer pretend.
“How long were you alone?”
Eli looked down.
“Eight days.”
Dante’s stomach tightened.
“Eight.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you eat?”
“Shelter twice.”
“Other days?”
“Stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Don’t.”
Dante stopped.
Rosalie said:
“He doesn’t want to tell you.”
“I noticed.”
Dante crouched slightly, keeping distance.
“You never have to earn food in this house.”
Eli looked at him.
“That sounds like rich-person stuff.”
“What does?”
“Making rules about food.”
Dante almost smiled.
“Fine.”
He corrected.
“If you are here and hungry, eat.”
“Without asking?”
“Yes.”
Rosalie raised a finger.
“Except my chocolate drawer.”
Dante looked at her.
“You have a chocolate drawer?”
She froze.
Eli grinned.
The moment broke.
Good.
Later, Nina called.
“We found Trina Mercer.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“Where?”
“New Jersey.”
“Why did she leave?”
“Eviction.”
“And Eli?”
“She claims he ran away before she could arrange care.”
Dante did not believe her.
Nina continued.
“She also says Hannah left debts.”
“Expected.”
“And a storage unit.”
Dante stood.
“What?”
“In Yonkers.”
“Contents?”
“Unknown.”
Eli had never mentioned it.
Dante asked him that evening.
The boy looked terrified.
“You found it?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t open it.”
“Why?”
“My mom said only if…”
He stopped.
“If what?”
Eli looked at Rosalie.
“If she never got better.”
Rosalie stared.
“What’s inside?”
Eli shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Dante’s investigator obtained access legally through the estate representative process.
No breaking locks.
No criminal shortcuts.
Inside were seven boxes.
Medical journals.
Old work files.
Personal items.
A laptop backup drive.
And one sealed plastic container labeled:
R.V. — COPIES / DO NOT DESTROY
Dante stood in the storage unit with his attorney.
Inside were duplicate therapy notes.
Printouts.
Emails.
And a flash drive.
May you like
Hannah had known her records might disappear.
So she made copies.
Related Stories
