Chapter 3 - the woman in the blue dress
The photograph changed everything.
Until that moment, Claire had believed she had accidentally stepped into some unfinished war from Daniel's past.
Now she understood something worse.
Someone had expected her.
Expected Lily.
Expected the orange juice.
Expected the conflict.
The incident at the buffet table had not been random.
It had been arranged.
Marcus took them upstairs to a private library away from the guests.
Daniel refused to leave Lily downstairs.
Claire did too.
Lily sat on a leather sofa wrapped in Daniel's tuxedo jacket while Rachel stayed beside her.
Preston and Caleb were taken to another sitting room with their parents.
Vivian was not invited.
She entered anyway.
"This is my foundation event."
Daniel did not look up from Claire's phone.
"Not anymore."
"You cannot take control of my guests."
"I just did."
Vivian stared at him.
Claire watched the hatred pass between them.
Not irritation.
Not social rivalry.
Hatred.
Old hatred.
"What happened between you two?" Claire asked.
Vivian smiled.
"Daniel has always needed villains."
Daniel finally looked at her.
"And Vivian has always needed people indebted to her."
Marcus placed a tablet on the desk.
"We recovered footage from an exterior loading camera."
The image showed the service entrance behind Bellamy House.
At 8:07 p.m., a man exited wearing a gray suit.
The resolution was poor, but the silver pin on his lapel reflected the security light.
A woman followed ten seconds later.
Dark blue gown.
Long dark hair.
For one disturbing instant, she looked almost exactly like Claire.
Lily leaned forward.
"Mom?"
"No, honey."
Claire stared at the image.
The woman turned slightly before entering a black sedan.
Her face became visible.
Claire knew her.
"Elena."
Daniel looked at her.
"Who?"
"My former assistant."
Claire had hired Elena Ward four years earlier when her communications firm was expanding.
Smart.
Quiet.
Dependable.
She had resigned eleven months ago without explanation.
Her final email said she needed to care for a sick relative.
"Why would she be here?" Claire whispered.
Marcus enlarged the image.
Daniel studied it.
"Do you have contact information?"
"I did."
Marcus was already typing.
Claire looked toward Lily.
The child was watching Daniel.
Not the photograph.
Not the adults.
Daniel.
He noticed.
"What?"
Lily swallowed.
"Are you really my dad?"
The room became silent.
Claire closed her eyes.
There were conversations parents imagined having carefully.
Privately.
With prepared words.
This was not one of them.
Daniel slowly walked toward the sofa.
He crouched.
"Yes."
"Did you know about me?"
"No."
Lily looked at Claire.
"Mom said you lived far away."
Claire's throat tightened.
That was the closest she had ever come to lying.
Daniel looked at Claire, then back at Lily.
"I did live far away sometimes."
"Why didn't you visit?"
Daniel's face broke.
Only slightly.
But Claire saw it.
"Because I didn't know where you were."
Lily considered that.
Children were cruelly logical.
"Didn't Mom tell you?"
"She tried."
"So somebody stole the messages?"
Daniel nodded.
"It looks that way."
Lily looked down.
"Did you want a kid?"
Claire inhaled sharply.
Daniel did not hesitate.
"I wanted you."
Lily's eyes filled.
Daniel continued.
"I didn't know your name. I didn't know what you looked like. I didn't know you existed. But if I had known, I would have come."
Claire turned away because she could not stand the emotion in his voice.
Lily asked the most important question.
"Are you going to leave now?"
"No."
"Promise?"
Daniel hesitated.
Not because he intended to leave.
Because promises frightened him.
Claire remembered that.
He never made promises lightly.
Then Daniel held out his hand.
"I promise I will never choose to disappear from your life."
Lily placed her small hand in his.
Claire felt something inside her shift.
Not forgiveness.
Not yet.
But the first crack appeared in seven years of certainty.
Marcus's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then his expression sharpened.
"What?"
Daniel stood.
Marcus ended the call.
"Elena Ward's apartment was emptied yesterday."
Claire's stomach dropped.
"Where did she go?"
"No forwarding address."
Daniel looked at the loading dock photograph.
"And the car?"
"Registered to a shell company."
"Which company?"
Marcus looked almost reluctant to answer.
"Whitmore Strategic Consulting."
Everyone turned toward the doorway.
Vivian smiled faintly.
"I own dozens of companies."
Daniel's voice became quiet.
"Then you won't mind explaining this one."
"I have attorneys for that."
"Your grandson was used to attack my daughter."
"He wasn't used."
"We'll ask him."
Vivian's jaw tightened.
Then Lily spoke.
"She told him."
Everyone looked at her.
Claire crouched.
"What?"
Lily pointed toward Vivian.
"Before the juice."
Vivian went very still.
Lily continued.
"I saw her talking to Preston."
"About what?"
"I couldn't hear everything."
Lily concentrated.
"She gave him something."
Preston was brought upstairs.
He looked frightened when he saw his grandmother.
Daniel asked gently, "What did your grandmother give you?"
"Nothing."
Vivian smiled.
Then Preston's eyes moved toward her.
Daniel noticed.
"Preston, no one will punish you for telling the truth."
The boy swallowed.
"She gave me an envelope."
Vivian's smile disappeared.
"What was inside?"
"Money."
Claire stared at Vivian.
"Why?"
Preston began crying.
"She said I had to make Lily spill the juice."
Vivian stepped forward.
"That's a lie."
Preston flinched.
Then he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded cream envelope.
It landed on the desk.
Daniel picked it up.
His expression changed when he saw the embossed initials.
MA.
Margaret Ashford.
His dead mother's stationery.
The same stationery Claire remembered from seven years earlier.
Daniel looked at Vivian.
"Where did you get this?"
Vivian said nothing.
Daniel opened the envelope.
There was no money inside anymore.
Only a handwritten note.
Three words.
Make Claire leave.
The handwriting was not Vivian's.
Claire recognized it anyway.
Her knees nearly gave out.
Daniel caught her arm.
"Claire?"
She pointed at the note.
"I know that handwriting."
"Whose is it?"
May you like
Claire looked at him.
"Your brother's."
