Chapter 7 - THE WITNESS
The days that followed passed in a blur of medical checks, police interviews, and media frenzy. Rose recovered slowly—weak, but steadily gaining weight and color. Lily refuses to leave her side, sleeping curled around the crib, watching every door, every person who entered the room. She trusted no one. Not yet.
I sat beside her bed one evening, reading quietly, when Lily looked up and asked the question I had been dreading.
“Is Vivian gone for good?”
I set the book down carefully. “Yes. She drowned in the river. She cannot hurt anyone anymore.”
Lily considered this. “Good. But… who helped her? She couldn’t have done all those things alone.”
I stared at my brilliant, observant daughter. “That is exactly what I am trying to find out.”
“Because she said someone always helps the bad people,” Lily said quietly. “That’s what Mommy told me. That bad people have friends too.”
Her words sent a chill through me. Hale’s source confirmed it—Vivian had an accomplice. Someone who disabled the alarms. Someone who gave her access. Someone who knew our every move.
Police dragged the river for days. Found the car. Found Vivian’s body. But they also found something tucked in the glove compartment—an envelope, water-stained but sealed, addressed to me. I opened it alone.
*If you are reading this, I am dead. Good. It is better this way.
I never meant to hurt the girls. Only to keep them safe.
Clara died of a sickness I could not cure. I did not kill her. But I let her die because she would not listen. She would have destroyed everything.
There is a secret, Adrian. A truth even I did not know until it was too late.
Rose. Look at Rose. Study her bloodline. Ask the questions you are afraid to ask.
And watch your own shadow. The person standing closest to you… is the one you should fear most.
— V.*
I lowered the letter, hands trembling. She had not killed Clara? Or was she lying to the end? And what did she mean about Rose? That we should study her bloodline?
I stood and walked to the nursery. Lily sat on the floor playing with blocks while Rose napped. I looked at Rose—at the shape of her eyes, the curve of her chin. She looked like Clara. She looked like me. Where was the mystery?
Unless… unless she was not mine.
The thought struck me so hard I nearly staggered. Clara had been pregnant when I left. Rose had been born months later. But the timeline… what if Rose was not my daughter at all? What if that was the secret Vivian had died protecting?
I reached into my pocket and pulled out two strands of hair I had taken—one from Rose’s brush, one from Lily’s. And one of my own. I would send them to be tested. Quietly. Secretly. Because if there was even a chance… I needed to know the truth.
Lily looked up and caught me staring. “Daddy? Are you sad?”
I tucked the samples away quickly. “No. Just thinking.”
She stood and walked to me, placing her small hand in mine. “Whatever it is… we’ll figure it out. Together. Remember? Team.”
May you like
I squeezed her hand, heart swelling with pride and fear. “Team. Always.”
But as I looked at Rose, sleeping peacefully and unaware, I realized something terrible. If Rose was not my daughter… then who was her father? And why had Vivian cared enough to die protecting that secret?
