Chapter 2

ISABELLA

SIX YEARS LATER…

"You need to eat something," Lucas said from the doorway. "Isabella. I'm serious. You haven't touched anything since yesterday."

"I'm still fine."

"You said that an hour ago."

"Because it was true an hour ago."

"Isabella." His voice dropped, not angry. Just firm. "Look at me."

I looked up. He was leaning against the doorframe in an unbuttoned shirt, arms crossed, watching me with that careful patience of his that I had never quite deserved.

"I'm fine, Lucas," I said again.

"You've been staring at your phone since four in the morning. I heard you get up."

"I couldn't sleep."

"I know you couldn't sleep. That's why I'm asking you to eat something." He pushed off the frame and walked into the kitchen. "Sit down and relax your mind."

"I am sitting down."

"Then stay sitting." He moved to the stove. I heard the pan, the crack of eggs, the low hiss of butter hitting heat. "What are you looking at?"

"The files."

"Which files."

"The shareholder transfers. I wanted to go through them one more time."

He didn't say anything to that. He just cooked. That was Lucas. He never made me feel like I was too much. He just stayed close and kept his hands busy and let me be whatever I needed to be.

"It's the anniversary," he said after a while.

"I know what day it is."

"Six years."

"Yes."

"Are you going to talk about it or are you going to sit there and hold it by yourself all morning?"

I set the phone face down on the counter. "What do you want me to say?"

"Anything. Whatever is actually going on in your head right now."

I was quiet for a moment. "She's going to be there tonight. Lily. At the gala."

He turned around. "What?"

"I saw it this morning. At the bottom of the invitation. She's presenting a gift to Rane at the ceremony." I kept my voice even. "She's six years old, Lucas. They're putting her on a stage in front of all those people."

He put down the spatula. "Did you know about this before?"

"No."

"Does Chloe know?"

"I texted her twenty minutes ago. She's looking into it."

He turned back to the stove. I watched him plate the eggs and set them in front of me without a word. Then he pulled out the stool on the other side of the counter and sat down.

"Eat," he said.

I picked up the fork. I didn't taste anything.

"I looked at the photographs again this morning," I said. "The ones from the company event. The one where she's standing next to Mara in that white dress."

"Isabella—"

"She's not smiling. She's six years old and she's standing in a room full of adults and she's not smiling, she's just." I stopped. "She looks like she's waiting for something to go wrong."

Lucas didn't answer right away. He looked at me across the counter, steady and quiet.

"She has my nose," I said. "I always notice that. Every time I look at those pictures."

"I know."

"She has his jaw but she has my nose and I have never once been in the same room as her." My voice stayed flat. I had gotten very good at keeping it flat. "Six years, Lucas. I signed those papers six years ago today and I have not seen my own daughter once."

"I know." He reached across and covered my hand with his. "I know."

We sat like that for a moment.

"You don't have to do it tonight if you're not ready," he said.

I looked at him. "I have been ready for six years."

"You can chill out and take things slow"

"No," I said. "I am not doing that. But I'm going anyway."

He nodded once. He didn't argue. He never argued with me when my mind was made up. He just adjusted and figured out how to stand next to me through it.

"Chloe confirmed the votes?" he asked.

"Three days ago. All six transfers are clean. Sixty percent. It's done on paper. Tonight it becomes real."

"And Rane has no idea."

"None. Chloe has been careful. Eight months of board meetings and he still thinks she's just a representative for a private investment group." I picked up my coffee. "He's going to walk into that ballroom thinking he owns everything. He's going to stand up there and give his speech and shake hands and smile for photographs and somewhere in the middle of all of that, he's going to find out."

"How do you want it to happen?"

"Chloe will request the floor during the business portion of the evening. She'll table the motion. The votes are already locked. It goes through in under ten minutes." I set the mug down. "And then he'll know."

"And then he'll know," Lucas repeated quietly.

"He took everything from me," I said. "My daughter. Six years. He made me sign papers while I was still in shock from losing her and he told his lawyers to make sure I couldn't come back from it. He thought that was the end." I looked at Lucas. "It wasn't the end."

"No," Lucas said. "It really wasn't."

I almost smiled. Almost.

He got up and refilled my coffee without asking, the way he always did. He set it back in front of me and leaned against the counter.

"I laid out the black dress," he said. "The one Chloe picked."

"Oh great."

"Shoes are on the chair."

"Thank you."

"Car is booked for seven thirty." He crossed his arms. "You want me to run through everything again?"

"No. I've had it memorized for three months."

"Okay." He paused. "What do you need from me tonight? Specifically."

I thought about it. "Just be there. Don't leave the room. I don't care about anything else, I just need to look across that ballroom and see your face."

Something moved across his expression. "You'll see my face," he said. "I'll be right there. The whole time."

"Okay."

"Okay." He pushed off the counter. "Finish the eggs."

"I already finished the eggs."

He looked at the plate. Half the eggs were still on it. He gave me a look.

"Fine," I said, and picked up the fork again.

He watched me eat two more bites, apparently decided that was enough, and went back to the living room.

I pushed the plate aside and picked up the gala invitation from the end of the counter. Thick paper. Gold print. I read it slowly, top to bottom. The venue, the time, the programme. The board remarks. The anniversary tribute.

And then the last line, the one I had already read four times that morning.

A gift presentation on behalf of the Blackwood family, to be delivered by Lily Blackwood, age six.

I read it one more time.

I set the invitation down on the counter.

My hands were not shaking. They were very, very still.