I stared at the photograph until my eyes began to ache.
The woman standing beside Daniel looked younger than I expected. Her dark hair fell to her shoulders, and one hand rested lightly on Lily's head.
Lily was much smaller then.
Four, perhaps.
She was smiling at the camera.
Daniel was not.
His expression was tense, almost watchful.
I turned the photograph over again.
“She came back for her daughter.”
Six words.
Six words that changed everything.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Lily looked at me.
“Dad said her name once.”
“What name?”
“Emma.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Emma what?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you ever meet her?”
Lily shook her head.
“Dad said she couldn't stay.”
“Why?”
“He said she was sick.”
I looked at the photograph.
She didn't look sick.
She looked frightened.
That distinction mattered.
“Did she come to the house?”
“Not while I was awake.”
“What does that mean?”
Lily hesitated.
“Sometimes Dad would tell me to stay upstairs.”
“When?”
“When people came.”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel had spent years building walls around Lily.
I had mistaken those walls for ordinary parental caution.
Now I wondered what he had been protecting her from.
I picked up the birth certificate again.
The father's name was Daniel's old business associate, Marcus Vale.
The same man connected to my husband's company.
The same man whose name had appeared in Daniel's notebook.
The same man who had come into our house looking for Lily.
I had spent years believing my husband's death ended one tragedy.
Instead, I had apparently inherited the unfinished part.
I called Evelyn.
She answered after several rings.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Are you safe?”
“Yes.”
“Is Lily with you?”
“Yes.”
There was a long pause.
“You found the second box.”
“How did you know?”
“Daniel told me there was one.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know where he hid it.”
“You knew about Emma?”
Another silence.
“Yes.”
My anger returned.
“You knew?”
“I knew her name.”
“Who is she?”
“I don't know where she is now.”
“Is she Lily's mother?”
“Yes.”
I gripped the phone.
“She's alive.”
“I believe so.”
“Daniel told me Lily's mother died.”
“I know.”
“He lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Emma was being hunted.”
The room went still.
“By Marcus?”
“Not only Marcus.”
“Who else?”
“I don't know.”
Evelyn's voice became quieter.
“Daniel believed Emma had discovered something about Marcus's business.”
“What?”
“Money was being moved through several companies.”
“Why would that involve Lily?”
“Because Emma found documents proving where some of it came from.”
I looked at the papers scattered across the table.
“My husband's company.”
“Yes.”
I remembered the handwritten note.
I know what they are doing.
The sentence suddenly sounded different.
My husband hadn't necessarily been innocent.
He might have discovered something.
Or he might have been part of it.
“What did my husband know?”
Evelyn sighed.
“Daniel never found out everything.”
“Then what did he find?”
“That your husband had been trying to withdraw from the arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
“I don't know.”
I closed my eyes.
Every answer created another question.
Then I remembered something.
“My husband increased his life insurance.”
“Yes.”
“Did Daniel know?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Because he didn't know whether your husband increased it voluntarily.”
I looked toward the broken front door.
“What are you saying?”
“There was a possibility the policy was part of the pressure.”
“Pressure from Marcus?”
“Yes.”
I thought about the accident.
The dark sedan.
The stranger approaching Josie.
Mr. Bunny being taken from the wreck.
Then Daniel recovering it.
The pieces were beginning to form a picture I didn't want to see.
“Where is Emma now?”
“I don't know.”
“You have to know something.”
“I know one thing.”
“What?”
“Daniel arranged a meeting with her before he died.”
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Three months before he proposed to you.”
The photograph.
The date.
The woman.
I looked at Lily.
“She came back for her daughter.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Emma agreed to stay away.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel told her Lily was safe.”
“With me?”
“With you eventually.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“He hadn't met you yet.”
The words struck me.
“Then how could he know?”
“He didn't.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Daniel had met Emma before he met me.
He had known Lily's mother.
He had known the danger.
But he hadn't known me.
Not yet.
“Evelyn, when did Daniel first see me?”
She was quiet.
“The accident.”
My stomach tightened.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You mean years before the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“He saw me?”
“He saw you beside the wreck.”
I sat down.
Daniel had recognized me immediately when I told him about Josie.
Not because of my husband's name.
Not because of Lily.
Because he had seen me on the worst day of my life.
For years, he had carried that memory.
Then I met him again.
I understood now why his reaction to my story had been so intense.
He wasn't simply hearing about my daughter.
He was remembering her.
And he had kept her rabbit.
I pressed my palm against my forehead.
“Did Emma know about me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Daniel told her.”
“What did she say?”
“She said you were the woman who lost her daughter.”
I looked at Lily.
She was listening.
I didn't want her to hear more.
“Go upstairs,” I said.
“But—”
“Please.”
She obeyed.
I waited until I heard her bedroom door close.
Then I asked Evelyn the question I had been avoiding.
“Did Emma want Lily back?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't she take her?”
“She was afraid.”
“Of Marcus?”
“Of everyone.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Why would she trust Daniel?”
“Because Daniel saved her.”
“When?”
“Years before.”
“How?”
“She was hiding.”
“From Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel helped her?”
“Yes.”
I thought of the man who had stood in our bedroom.
The man who said Lily was never supposed to be mine.
Maybe he wasn't simply trying to retrieve a child.
Maybe he was trying to erase evidence.
“Evelyn, where is Emma?”
“I don't know.”
“Then who does?”
She hesitated.
“Daniel left one more name.”
“Who?”
“The lawyer who handled Lily's original birth records.”
I wrote down the name.
Before I could ask anything else, Evelyn said, “Don't go alone.”
“I won't.”
“Promise.”
I looked toward the stairs.
“I have Lily.”
“No.”
Her voice was urgent.
“That's exactly why you can't make a careless move.”
I understood.
Lily wasn't simply someone I loved.
She was now the center of a secret people had been willing to kill for.
That night, I slept with the second box beside me.
In the morning, I took Lily to school.
She didn't ask questions.
Neither did I.
But when I returned home, I found an envelope beneath the front door.
There was no stamp.
No name.
Inside was a single photograph.
Emma.
Alive.
Standing outside a courthouse.
On the back was an address.
And beneath it, a handwritten message.
“Bring the girl if you want the truth.”
I stared at the words.
Then I tore the note in half.
Whoever had written it knew exactly what to threaten me with.
But they had made one mistake.
They had assumed fear would make me hand Lily over.
It wouldn't.
I had lost one child.
I would not lose another.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: I Went Looking for the Lawyer Who Knew Lily’s Original Records, but the Truth He Gave Me Was More Dangerous Than the Threat at Our Door
The Little Girl in Room 412 Asked Me for a Simple Favor, and I Had No Idea Her Father Was About to Change the Rest of My Life
Part 9 of 12
