Chapter 4 - Unearthing the Past
Dawn broke over the Manhattan skyline, painting the glass towers in cold strokes of gray and gold.
I sat in my study, staring at the autopsy report and the death certificate I had pulled from the safe, alongside a worn leather journal Dante had recovered from Karen’s luggage.
It was Grace’s handwriting.
I opened the cover, the familiar, elegant script washing over me like a physical blow.
“March 14th, Marcus doesn't know. If the Vanguard Syndicate finds out I survived the hit on our estate, they will use our child to break him. I have to disappear. I have to make them believe I died so they stop hunting us, and so Marcus can focus on surviving their corporate war without a distraction. It breaks my heart to leave him, but it’s the only way to keep both of them alive.”
Page after page detailed her lonely exile. Moving from cheap motel to damp basement, working under assumed names, watching me from afar through newspaper clippings and financial news reports. She had watched me build my empire larger and larger, all while starving for the family I thought had been stolen from me by death itself.
“December 2nd, My cough won't stop. The doctor says my lungs are scarred from the smoke during the night we escaped. If I don't make it, Karen promises to take care of Emma. But my greatest fear isn't dying—it's that one day, Emma will wander back into his world, and Marcus will finally know the truth.”
A quiet knock sounded at the door.
Before I could answer, it creaked open. Lily stood in the doorway, holding a small stuffed rabbit in one hand and rubbing her sleepy eyes with the other.
"Daddy?" she whispered softly. "Is Emma awake yet? I promised to show her my dollhouse."
My chest tightened with an overwhelming wave of emotion. I stood up from my desk, walked across the massive room, and knelt down to scoop Lily into my arms, burying my face in her hair.
"Not yet, sweetheart," I murmured, my voice thick. "Let her rest. But... how would you feel if Emma stayed with us? Not just for today. Forever."
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Lily pulled back, her emerald eyes—Grace’s eyes—lighting up with unadulterated joy. "Really? Can she be my real sister? Can we share a room and wear matching dresses?"
"Yes," I promised, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "She's our family now. Nobody is ever taking her away."
