Chapter 10

The Man Who Knew My Mother

"...She has her mother's eyes."

The room fell silent.

Every instinct told me to step back.

But I couldn't move.

The silver-haired man stared at me as if he had seen a ghost.

His eyes glistened.

He looked... heartbroken.

I had never seen him before.

Yet he looked at me like he'd been searching for me his entire life.

"Who are you?" I asked.

He smiled sadly.

"I was wondering when you'd ask that."

I tightened my grip on the photograph.

"Answer me."

Before he could speak, Damian stepped between us.

"That's enough."

The man's eyes shifted to Damian.

"You've kept her in the dark for too long."

"I had my reasons."

"And look where your reasons brought us."

The room became suffocatingly quiet.

I was tired of people talking about me instead of talking to me.

"Stop it!" I shouted.

Both men looked at me.

"I'm standing right here!"

My voice shook with anger.

"Everyone keeps saying they want to protect me."

"But no one is telling me what I'm being protected from."

The silver-haired man nodded slowly.

"You're right."

He looked at Damian.

"She deserves the truth."

Damian's jaw tightened.

"Not tonight."

"Why?"

"Because she's already lost enough."

I laughed bitterly.

"Stop deciding what I can handle."

The words hung in the air.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Finally, the silver-haired man reached into the inside pocket of his coat.

My heart skipped.

He wasn't reaching for a weapon.

He pulled out a worn leather wallet.

Carefully, almost reverently, he opened it.

Inside was a tiny photograph.

He held it out to me.

My fingers trembled as I took it.

The picture showed a little girl sitting on a swing.

She couldn't have been more than five years old.

She was laughing.

Her hair was tied into two tiny ponytails.

Her smile...

My breath caught.

It was me.

I had never seen that photograph before.

On the back, written in faded blue ink, were six words.

Our little sunshine. Never give up.

I frowned.

"Where did you get this?"

The man's voice broke.

"Your mother gave it to me."

"When?"

He closed his eyes.

"The day before she disappeared."

Disappeared?

The word struck me like lightning.

"My mother died."

He looked straight into my eyes.

"No."

His answer was quiet.

"But it was firm.

"She didn't die."

The room spun around me.

"No..."

I whispered.

"That's impossible."

"It isn't."

"My father buried her."

The silver-haired man's face filled with sorrow.

"He buried an empty coffin."

Everything inside me stopped.

I looked desperately at Damian.

"Tell me he's lying."

Damian didn't answer.

"Please..."

A tear slid down my cheek.

"Tell me this isn't true."

He lowered his eyes.

That silence...

It hurt more than any lie ever could.

I stumbled backward until I hit the edge of the sofa.

"No..."

I shook my head over and over.

"My father would never lie to me."

"He didn't," Damian said quietly.

I looked up.

"He believed it too."

"What?"

"The people behind this wanted everyone to believe your mother was dead."

I couldn't think.

Nothing made sense anymore.

If my mother hadn't died...

Then where had she been all these years?

Why hadn't she come back?

Why hadn't she looked for me?

As if he had heard my thoughts, the silver-haired man took another careful step closer.

"I've spent twenty years looking for her."

My heart pounded.

"And..."

His voice cracked.

"...looking for you."

Before I could ask another question, a sharp clap echoed through the room.

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Slow.

Mocking.

Everyone turned toward the grand staircase.

A woman stood there in a crimson dress.

Elegant.

Beautiful.

Dangerous.

She smiled as though she had just walked into a theatre.

"Well..."

She looked directly at me.

"So this is the daughter."

Her smile widened.

"I expected someone... harder to kill."

The room froze.

Even Damian's face lost its calm.

For the first time since I'd met him...

I saw genuine fear.

He whispered only one word.

"Vivian."

The woman tilted her head.

"It's been a long time, Damian."

Then she looked at me again.

"And your mother sends her regards."