Chapter 2 - THE GODFATHER WHO RAISED ME AFTER SHE VANISHED
Victor Shaw had been standing beside me at my father's funeral.
He had taught me how to shoot.
How to negotiate.
How to tell when a man was lying.
And after my mother vanished, he had been the one who sat beside my bed when I woke from nightmares.
Now I was listening to the woman I trusted most after my own father tell Willa that Victor had helped erase her from my life.
I knocked.
Inside the cottage, both women froze.
Willa moved first.
She stepped between my mother and the door.
Protecting her.
From me.
That hurt more than I expected.
"Who's there?" Willa called.
"It's me."
Silence.
Then Lorraine whispered:
"Danny?"
My heart broke.
Willa opened the door slowly.
Her face was white.
"Mr. Whitmore."
I barely looked at her.
My eyes moved past her.
My mother stood beside the kitchen table.
Thirty-one years older.
Smaller.
Shaking.
But alive.
"Danny."
I had imagined this moment thousands of times as a child.
In every version, I ran toward her.
In reality, I couldn't move.
"Why?" I asked.
Her eyes filled.
"I tried."
"Thirty-one years."
"I know."
"You had thirty-one years."
She began crying.
Willa stepped forward.
"Declan—"
"Not now."
She went still.
I immediately regretted the sharpness in my voice.
But I couldn't stop.
I looked back at Lorraine.
"Did you ever try to contact me?"
"Every year."
My chest tightened.
"What?"
Lorraine disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a wooden box.
Inside were letters.
Dozens.
Some addressed to me at eleven.
Then twelve.
Thirteen.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Forty.
Every birthday.
Every Christmas.
Every year she remained alive.
I picked up one.
For Danny, on his twelfth birthday.
My hands started shaking.
"Why didn't I get these?"
Lorraine's lips trembled.
"Victor."
My jaw tightened.
"He controlled the mail through the facilities."
I looked toward Willa.
"How do you know any of this?"
She swallowed.
"My mother left journals."
"What journals?"
"Records from the private hospital."
My anger shifted.
"Why didn't you bring them to me?"
Willa's eyes flashed.
"Because I didn't know if you were like your father."
The words landed hard.
She continued.
"I work in your house. Armed men come and go at midnight. People are terrified of you."
I had no answer.
Because she wasn't wrong.
Then Lorraine whispered:
"Willa found me six weeks ago."
I turned.
"How?"
Willa took a breath.
"My mother left an address inside one of her journals."
The blue cottage.
Lorraine continued.
"She came here before sunrise because I was afraid Victor would see her."
My stomach turned.
"Victor knows you're alive?"
Lorraine looked down.
"I think so."
Then headlights swept across the window.
A black sedan stopped at the end of Sycamore Lane.
Willa's face drained of color.
Lorraine gripped the table.
I knew that car.
Victor Shaw's driver used one exactly like it.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Victor.
Declan, where are you? We need to talk about your housekeeper.
I looked toward Willa.
May you like
Then another message appeared.
"She has been stealing from your family."
