Chapter 1 - THE CHILD WHO WASN’T AFRAID OF ME
For three years, nobody in my house had seen me wear anything soft.
No sweaters.
No slippers.
No blanket.
So when I walked out of the locked office with Lily’s gray blanket wrapped around my shoulders, the hallway became silent.
A guard actually looked away.
Allie stood beside her daughter as if one wrong breath might still get them both thrown out.
Lily did not notice.
She reached up and touched the edge of the blanket.
“See? Better.”
I looked down at her.
“Better?”
“You look less cold.”
Nobody had spoken to me like that since my sister Elena died.
The thought hit so hard I nearly removed the blanket.
Instead, I kept it.
“Allie.”
She stiffened.
“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”
“Why is your daughter in my house during work hours?”
Her face changed.
“I’m sorry. Her daycare closed today. I called every person I know. My neighbor was supposed to watch her, but she got sick, and I—”
She stopped.
Waiting for punishment.
I had fired men for smaller violations.
Yet Lily was now showing Fantasma the pictures in her fairy-tale book as if she owned the estate.
“Bring her to the staff sitting room when necessary.”
Allie stared.
“What?”
“She stays out of restricted areas.”
“Yes. Of course.”
Lily looked up.
“Can I visit you?”
“No.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
Because children should not become attached to men like me.
Because everything I loved had eventually been taken.
Because three years earlier I had stood in a hospital corridor while blood dried beneath my fingernails and watched doctors close a sheet over my sister’s face.
Instead, I said:
“I work.”
Lily considered this.
“My mama works too. She still says hello.”
Allie nearly stopped breathing.
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Then my phone rang.
My security chief, Dominic Hale.
“Boss, we found something in the north garage.”
“What?”
“A car.”
“That narrows it down.”
He ignored the sarcasm.
“It belonged to Elena.”
My body went still.
Elena’s car had been destroyed the night she died.
At least that was what I had been told.
“What are you talking about?”
“Same VIN.”
I turned toward Allie.
Her face had gone pale.
Not confused.
Pale.
I noticed.
“Allie.”
She lowered her eyes.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
Lily stepped between us.
“Mama doesn’t lie.”
Allie’s eyes filled with tears.
I looked at her.
Then at the woman’s trembling hands.
“What do you know about my sister’s car?”
Her lips parted.
May you like
And the answer came out barely above a whisper.
“I know it was never in the accident.”
