Chapter 6
Victoria disappeared for three days.
Her apartment was empty.
Her car was abandoned near a private airfield.
Her passport was flagged.
Her accounts were frozen.
Still, she managed to send one message.
Not to me.
To Lily.
It came through an unknown number while Lily sat across from me eating toast she barely touched.
You should have stayed dead.
Lily dropped the phone.
I picked it up and read the message.
Something inside me went quiet.
The dangerous kind of quiet.
Marcus saw my face and immediately reached for his radio.
Grace called law enforcement.
Lily stared at the phone like it had bitten her.
“She hates me.”
I crouched beside her chair.
“She fears you.”
“Why?”
“Because your existence exposes her.”
Lily’s eyes filled.
“I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“I know.”
“I was fine being nobody.”
I shook my head.
“No, Lily. You were surviving being treated like nobody. That’s different.”
She looked away.
“I don’t feel like your sister.”
“I know.”
“I feel like that maid in the ballroom.”
“Then we start there too.”
Her brow furrowed.
“What?”
“The woman in the ballroom is my sister. So is the little girl in the photo. So is the woman sitting here now.”
She cried quietly.
I let her.
That afternoon, detectives came to interview her.
I stayed in the room at her request.
They asked about the staffing call.
Victoria.
The ring.
The veil.
The locket.
The orphanage.
Every answer was a thread.
Together, they formed a rope around Victoria.
Then came the old accident file.
Detective Morris spread photos across my conference table.
The crash site.
The river.
The overturned car.
My parents’ funeral reports.
A witness statement I had never seen.
I leaned forward.
“What is this?”
Morris looked uncomfortable.
“A truck driver reported seeing a woman carrying a child near the road about twenty minutes after the crash.”
I stared at him.
“What woman?”
“Unknown. The statement was dismissed at the time because the driver admitted he had been drinking.”
“Dismissed?” My voice rose. “My sister was missing.”
“I know.”
Lily touched my arm.
The contact grounded me.
Morris continued.
“There’s more. The orphanage intake record says Lily was found outside a church two counties away three days later.”
“Three days?” Lily whispered.
The detective nodded.
“You were dehydrated. Feverish. No identification except the locket.”
I felt sick.
For three days, someone had my sister.
Someone took her from the crash.
Someone left her at a church.
“Who?” I asked.
Morris slid another photo forward.
A grainy traffic image from twenty years ago.
A woman stepping from an old sedan.
Face blurred.
Child in arms.
Lily.
My hands curled into fists.
“Can you identify her?”
“Not yet. But we enhanced the license plate last night.”
He placed the final page down.
My blood turned cold.
May you like
The car was registered to Celeste Whitmore.
Victoria’s mother.
