Chapter 9 - The Daughter He Was Afraid to Lose
Vincent Graham had never questioned whether Amelia was his daughter.
Not when she was born.
Not when Eleanor died.
And certainly not during the twelve lonely years he'd spent watching her grow up from a distance.
Now a recording was suggesting otherwise.
I stood beside his desk while he read the transcript.
His fingers tightened around the paper.
"This doesn't make sense."
I looked at him.
"Vincent, we don't know what Levi meant."
He raised his eyes.
"Then what was he talking about?"
"I don't know."
For once, I had no clever answer.
Vincent sat down heavily.
"Eleanor and I were married for seven years. Amelia was born during our marriage."
I nodded.
"Then don't let one sentence rewrite your entire life."
He looked toward the photograph.
Amelia was smiling in front of a white birthday cake.
The picture had been taken when she turned eighteen.
Vincent's expression softened.
"I taught her to swim."
I remained silent.
"She used to fall asleep on my chest when she was little."
His voice broke.
"She called me Daddy before she could say anything else."
I stepped closer.
"Then you're her father."
He looked at me.
"What if the recording is true?"
I swallowed.
"Then something about her biology might be different from what you believed. But those memories don't disappear."
For several seconds, Vincent said nothing.
Then he nodded slowly.
"You're right."
His phone rang again.
This time, it was Amelia.
He stared at the screen.
"Answer it," I whispered.
He hesitated.
Then accepted the call.
"Dad?"
Her voice was warm.
Young.
And clearly worried.
"Amelia."
"I saw the news about Levi."
Vincent closed his eyes.
"I know."
"Are you okay?"
He swallowed.
"I'm trying to be."
A pause.
Then Amelia said something that made him go completely still.
"Dad, I need to tell you something."
"What?"
"I found Mom's old letters."
Vincent looked up.
"What letters?"
"The ones Grandma kept in her attic."
His expression changed.
"Amelia, what did you find?"
She hesitated.
"There's a letter about my birth."
Vincent's fingers tightened.
"Go on."
Her voice trembled.
"Mom wrote that she was afraid someone would discover the truth."
I watched Vincent's face drain of color.
"Did she say what truth?"
Amelia began crying.
"She said you weren't my biological father."
Silence filled the room.
Then Vincent whispered something I would never forget.
"Amelia, listen to me."
She sniffled.
"Okay."
"Nothing you found changes how much I love you."
Her breathing caught.
"Really?"
"Not for one second."
I turned away to hide my tears.
For years, Vincent had built an empire around the idea that bloodlines determined loyalty.
Now he was learning something different.
Then Amelia spoke again.
"Dad, there's another reason I'm calling."
"What?"
"I think someone has been following me."
Vincent stood.
"Where are you?"
"At Grandma's house."
"Are you safe?"
"I think so."
Then she whispered:
"The man outside keeps asking about Michael Young."
My heart stopped.
May you like
Amelia continued.
"And he says your dead wife left something with Katie's father that could destroy the entire Graham family."
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