Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE BLUE BOX
The girl's name was Olivia.
She was ten years old.
She had Claire's auburn hair and a serious expression that made her look older than she was.
The second girl, Emma, was eight.
Grace was seven.
And Lily was five.
They ate pancakes and drank hot chocolate while Claire and I sat across from each other.
Eleven years ago, Claire had been a twenty-four-year-old emergency-room nurse.
I'd been thirty.
And bleeding from a gunshot wound when she found me outside a hospital loading dock.
She could have walked away.
Instead, she saved my life.
For six months afterward, I'd tried to convince her that a man like me could become someone worth loving.
She almost believed me.
Then she disappeared.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Just an empty apartment.
I'd spent years wondering what I'd done wrong.
Now she sat across from me with four daughters.
"Olivia," Claire said gently, "would you take your sisters to the play corner?"
The café had a small children's area near the window.
Olivia looked suspicious.
"Are you going to talk about Mr. Mercer?"
"Yes."
She looked at me.
"Don't let him scare Mommy."
My chest tightened.
"I won't."
Claire's expression changed.
I realized I'd made a promise without knowing whether I could keep it.
The girls moved away.
Claire watched until they were out of earshot.
Then she looked at me.
"I didn't know you'd be here."
"I believe you."
"I didn't bring them to find you."
"I know."
She swallowed.
"Alexander, I need you to understand something."
I leaned forward.
"Start with Olivia."
Her face went pale.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she whispered:
"She's yours."
The café noise faded.
I stared at her.
"My daughter?"
Claire nodded.
I looked toward the play corner.
Olivia was helping Lily stack wooden blocks.
My daughter.
Ten years old.
I'd missed her first steps.
Her first words.
Her first day of school.
Every birthday.
Every scraped knee.
Every bedtime story.
I felt as though someone had punched through my chest.
"Why?" I whispered.
Claire's eyes filled.
"Because someone told me you'd kill us both if I stayed."
I went completely still.
"Who?"
She looked at me.
"Your uncle."
My blood turned cold.
"Victor Hayes?"
Claire nodded.
"He came to my apartment the night I found out I was pregnant."
I stared.
"He said you were already promised to another woman. That a child would complicate your succession. He told me if I loved you, I'd disappear."
I shook my head.
"Claire—"
"He showed me photographs of men who'd crossed your family."
Her voice broke.
"He said Olivia would be next."
I looked toward my daughter.
For the first time in eleven years, I understood why Claire had vanished.
She hadn't stopped loving me.
May you like
She'd been terrified.
And the man who frightened her had been someone I trusted.
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