Chapter 2 - THE GIRL WHO SURVIVED
I didn't sleep that night.
Neither did Grace.
Amara slept in the guest room under the protection of three guards.
At three in the morning, I stood in my study staring at an old photograph.
Lily was six months old.
She was sitting on my desk, wearing a ridiculous pink sweater my wife had bought.
Her tiny hand was wrapped around my finger.
I remembered everything.
The smell of her shampoo.
The way she laughed when I pretended to sneeze.
The way she called me “Ju-Ju” because she couldn't pronounce Julian.
I had spent two years believing those memories were all I had left.
Now I knew they might have been memories of a living child.
My phone rang.
Silas answered it.
My head of security.
“Boss.”
“Talk.”
“We checked the envelope.”
“And?”
“No fingerprints.”
“Cameras?”
“Someone disabled the exterior cameras for ninety seconds.”
I stared at the window.
“Ninety seconds.”
“Yes.”
“Inside help?”
“Possibly.”
That possibility angered me.
Not because someone had entered my home.
Because someone had been watching.
Waiting.
Watching me sit alone.
Watching Grace.
Watching Amara.
Watching the empty chair.
I walked downstairs.
Grace was sitting beside her daughter.
She looked exhausted.
“You should sleep.”
She shook her head.
“I can't.”
“Tell me everything.”
She looked at Amara.
“She shouldn't hear this.”
“She won't.”
Grace hesitated.
Then began.
“The night of the crash, I was working the emergency ward.”
“Who brought Lily in?”
“An ambulance crew.”
“Who was with her?”
“No one.”
“Where was my wife?”
“Dead on arrival.”
My chest tightened.
“And Lily?”
“Alive.”
I gripped the back of a chair.
“Why wasn't I told?”
Grace's eyes filled.
“You were.”
“What?”
“You came to the hospital.”
“I remember.”
“You were unconscious for almost nine hours.”
I frowned.
That wasn't in my memory.
“You had a head injury.”
“What happened?”
“While you were unconscious, a man came to the hospital.”
“Who?”
“He said he represented your family.”
“I don't have a representative.”
“He claimed to.”
“What did he look like?”
Grace closed her eyes.
“Gray hair. Expensive suit. Silver ring.”
I froze.
“What kind of ring?”
“A black stone.”
My mind immediately went to one person.
Victor Hale.
My uncle.
My father's younger brother.
Dead.
Or supposedly dead.
Victor had disappeared from my life eleven years earlier after a family dispute.
Everyone said he had died overseas.
I had never attended his funeral.
My father had simply told me:
“Victor is gone.”
I had believed him.
Until now.
“Did the man take Lily?”
Grace nodded.
“He said the baby had suffered complications and needed another hospital.”
“But there was no transfer.”
“I know.”
“Why didn't you stop him?”
Her voice broke.
“Because he showed me an official transfer order.”
“Forged?”
“I didn't know then.”
“And later?”
“I realized.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he came back.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“The next day.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me if I spoke, my daughter would be taken too.”
My gaze moved to Amara.
Grace's hand tightened around her.
“He threatened you?”
“He threatened Amara.”
I understood.
She hadn't been protecting herself.
She'd been protecting her child.
I walked toward the window.
“Why stay here?”
Grace looked confused.
“What?”
“You've worked for me for fourteen months.”
“Yes.”
“You could have taken another job.”
“I needed the money.”
“No.”
I turned.
“You needed access.”
Her face went pale.
“I didn't know how else to find Lily.”
The words hit harder than a bullet.
“You came into my house deliberately?”
“I came here because I thought whoever took Lily might be watching you.”
“You suspected me?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I suspected everyone.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know whether I could trust you.”
I should have been furious.
Instead, I understood.
Trust was a luxury.
Especially when your child was being threatened.
I sat across from her.
“What do you know?”
“Not much.”
“Try.”
She took a breath.
“The man who took Lily wasn't alone.”
“Who was with him?”
“A woman.”
“Description?”
“Dark hair. Blue coat.”
I closed my eyes.
My wife's sister.
Clara.
She had vanished after the crash.
Everyone assumed grief had driven her away.
But Grace continued.
“The woman called Lily by her name.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
“She said, ‘Take care of my niece.’”
Silence.
My wife's sister was alive.
And she had known Lily survived.
Before I could speak, one of my guards rushed into the room.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We found something in the security footage.”
He handed me a tablet.
A frame showed a black sedan outside the mansion.
The license plate was blurred.
But the passenger window was visible.
A woman sat inside.
Dark hair.
Blue coat.
Clara.
Then another image appeared.
A child in the back seat.
A tiny girl.
Two years older.
Curly hair.
And behind her left ear...
a crescent-shaped birthmark.
My hand tightened around the tablet.
“Where did this happen?”
“Outside St. Vincent's.”
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
Six months.
My daughter had been alive six months ago.
Maybe she was alive now.
I stood.
“Find that car.”
Silas nodded.
“And Silas?”
“Yes?”
“From this moment forward, no one leaves this mansion without my permission.”
He frowned.
“Even Grace?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“Especially Grace.”
Because if Lily was alive...
May you like
then someone had been lying to me for two years.
And I intended to find out why.
