Chapter 5 - THE BOY WHO DIDN'T KNOW HIS REAL NAME
The first photograph of Noah Harrington nearly brought me to my knees.
He had Claire's brown hair.
My green eyes.
And the same small dimple Emma had when she smiled.
He was standing beside a golden retriever, holding a toy dinosaur.
Five years old.
My son.
Possibly.
I forced myself to remember that resemblance wasn't proof.
But my heart didn't understand the difference.
"Can I see him?" I asked Rachel.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because we need to verify his identity and protect the child."
I looked away.
For years, I'd been accustomed to getting whatever I wanted.
Private jets.
Luxury properties.
Business acquisitions.
But no amount of money could give me the right to storm into a child's home and announce I was his father.
Rachel's voice softened.
"The Harringtons may have raised Noah with love. We need to understand what happened before anyone makes decisions."
I nodded slowly.
"You're right."
It hurt to say.
But it was true.
That evening, I returned to Sunrise to spend time with Emma.
We ate macaroni and cheese in the children's dining room.
She showed me her favorite books.
Then she asked whether I knew how to braid hair.
I didn't.
So she taught me.
The result looked terrible.
Emma laughed until milk came out of her nose.
For the first time in years, I laughed without feeling guilty.
Later, while reading her a bedtime story, I noticed a photograph tucked beneath her pillow.
Claire.
She was sitting on a park bench, holding Emma on her lap.
Her smile was tired.
But beautiful.
I touched the photograph.
"Mommy was wonderful," I whispered.
Emma nodded.
"She worked very hard."
"I know."
"She cried sometimes."
My throat tightened.
"Did she?"
Emma nodded again.
"But she always hugged me when I was sad."
I kissed my daughter's forehead.
"I'm going to try to be someone she would be proud of."
Emma looked thoughtful.
Then asked a question I wasn't prepared for.
"Daddy, did Mommy know you were coming?"
My eyes burned.
"I don't think so, sweetheart."
Emma smiled.
"I think she did."
"Why?"
"Because she told me to keep the blue envelope safe."
I froze.
"What blue envelope?"
Emma reached beneath her mattress.
She pulled out a small envelope decorated with yellow stars.
On the front was Claire's handwriting.
For Michael, when Emma finally trusts him.
My hands began trembling.
I opened it carefully.
Inside was a photograph.
Claire standing beside a hospital bassinet.
A newborn baby boy slept beneath a blue blanket.
On the back, she'd written:
Noah Rivers. Born at 4:17 a.m.
I covered my mouth.
But there was something else.
A folded note.
Only two sentences.
May you like
Michael, if you find our son, please don't take him away from the people he loves.
And before you trust Daniel's wife, ask her why she was in my hospital room the night Noah disappeared.
