Chapter 1 - THE LITTLE GIRL WHO WAITED FIVE YEARS
The woman standing beside my daughter looked at me with an expression I would remember for the rest of my life.
"Mr. Rivers, Claire Bennett is dead."
For a moment, the world stopped.
The reporters outside were still shouting questions. Cameras flashed through the glass doors. Somewhere behind me, someone was thanking my investment firm for its three-million-dollar donation.
But I couldn't hear anything except those four words.
Claire Bennett is dead.
"No," I whispered.
The woman, who introduced herself as Margaret Ellis, director of Sunrise Children's Home, lowered her eyes.
"I'm sorry."
Emma tugged at my coat.
"Daddy, why are you crying?"
I looked down.
My daughter.
Five years old.
Brown hair like her mother's. Green eyes exactly like mine.
She was staring up at me with the unquestioning trust of a child who had spent her entire life imagining this moment.
I crouched.
"Sweetheart, where's Mommy?"
Emma's smile faded.
"She's with the angels."
My chest tightened so violently that I struggled to breathe.
"She told me you'd come," Emma continued. "She said you just needed to find your way."
I covered my mouth.
Claire.
Even after everything I'd done, she'd found a way to protect our daughter from knowing the truth about me.
I hadn't been lost.
I'd run away.
Margaret touched my shoulder.
"Mr. Rivers, perhaps we should talk privately."
I nodded.
Emma refused to release my hand.
"Can I come too?"
Margaret hesitated.
I looked at my daughter.
"Of course you can."
Inside Margaret's office, Emma climbed onto the couch beside me and immediately began showing me a drawing she'd made.
Three people stood beneath a yellow sun.
A woman in a purple dress.
A little girl with brown pigtails.
And a tall man wearing a blue tie.
"That's you," Emma said proudly.
I stared at the drawing.
"How did you know what I looked like?"
"Mommy had pictures."
She smiled.
"She said you used to make her laugh."
My eyes burned.
I remembered Claire laughing in our tiny Chicago kitchen while I burned pancakes.
That had been before fear made me cruel.
Margaret opened a locked cabinet.
"Claire left something for you."
She removed a wooden box.
Small.
Dark blue.
With a silver heart engraved on the lid.
My breathing stopped.
I recognized it.
I'd given Claire that box for our first anniversary.
Inside, she'd kept movie tickets, photographs, and the little notes I left on her pillow.
Margaret placed it before me.
"She gave us strict instructions."
I swallowed.
"What instructions?"
"We weren't allowed to contact you about the box. We could only give it to you if you came here voluntarily and asked about your daughter."
I stared at the lid.
"Why?"
Margaret's expression darkened.
"Because Claire was afraid someone would use Emma to get to you."
My blood turned cold.
"Who?"
Margaret looked toward Emma.
Then lowered her voice.
"Your business partner."
I stopped breathing.
"Daniel?"
Margaret nodded.
"Daniel Whitmore."
The man who had helped me build my billion-dollar investment empire.
The man I trusted more than anyone.
Margaret leaned forward.
"Mr. Rivers, Claire didn't die in an accident."
May you like
And then she whispered the words that changed everything.
"She died while trying to prove your partner was stealing from you."
