Chapter 7 - THE THIRD GIRL
Elise had worked for me five years.
She knew Nova’s medications.
Her fears.
Her favorite books.
Her routines.
She knew where every security camera was.
Which explained how she disappeared.
What I could not explain was why Claire said Elise’s daughter might be the third infant.
Mia was quiet.
Dark-haired.
Serious.
Always carrying a sketchbook.
I had seen her at breakfast.
Helped her with math once.
Bought her a birthday gift last year because Nova insisted.
How many children had been hidden in plain sight while adults fought over bloodlines?
Too many.
We found the passage twenty minutes later.
An old service tunnel beneath the greenhouse.
Built by my father when the estate was renovated.
Of course.
Everything bad in my life eventually involved something Malcolm Hawthorne installed.
A vehicle waited on the other side of the property line.
Gone now.
Vincent studied tire marks.
“Elise planned this.”
“Or someone told her to run.”
“Same difference.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“If she’s protecting Mia, it matters.”
Vincent had changed in twenty-four hours.
Sky did that.
The possibility of being her father did not make him more possessive.
It made him more careful.
I respected him for it.
Security found a note in Elise’s room.
Not for me.
For Nova.
I opened it only because Nova asked me to.
Nova,
I am sorry I left without saying goodbye. You were never a job. You are brave, funny, stubborn, and stronger than almost everyone who claims to protect you.
Please remember this: your chair is not the reason cruel people are cruel.
I hope I can explain everything one day.
— Elise
Nova read it twice.
Then folded it.
“Is Mia my sister?”
“We don’t know.”
“Could everybody stop saying that?”
I almost smiled.
“I wish.”
Sky sat beside her.
“If Mia is your sister, then maybe I’m not.”
Nova looked at her.
“Why can’t I have two?”
Sky blinked.
“That’s not how biology works.”
“It’s how family works.”
I looked away.
Claire had said things like that.
Maybe Nova remembered more of her mother than I realized.
At noon, we received an address from Claire.
No message.
Just coordinates.
An abandoned ferry maintenance warehouse on Bainbridge Island.
Trap.
Obviously.
I went anyway.
Vincent came.
Lena stayed with the girls under federal protection I finally accepted after realizing local systems were compromised.
Evelyn came too, against my better judgment.
“Claire called me once,” she said in the car.
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
I stared.
“You’re telling me now?”
“She told me if I ever told you, people would die.”
“You believed her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad was still alive.”
Our father had died four years ago.
“You could have told me after.”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The night of his funeral.”
I remembered.
Evelyn came to my study.
I was drunk.
Angry.
I told her I did not want to hear another family secret.
She left.
The memory humiliated me.
“You tried once.”
“You were becoming him.”
Everyone had that line ready.
Maybe because it was true.
At the warehouse, we found Claire.
Really found her.
No phone.
No screen.
No distance.
She stood near a rusted ferry ramp wearing a dark coat.
Her hair was shorter.
Lines marked her face.
But it was Claire.
I stopped.
Eight years of grief became physical.
I could not move.
She looked at me.
“Hi.”
One syllable.
My chest broke open.
I crossed the space.
Then stopped three feet away.
I wanted to touch her.
I wanted to shout.
I wanted to hold her.
I wanted answers.
Claire made the choice.
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
I did not forgive her.
I did not understand her.
I held her anyway.
For ten seconds, I was not Grant Hawthorne.
Just a man whose wife had returned from the dead.
Then she pulled away.
“Nova?”
“Safe.”
“Sky?”
“Safe.”
Her face showed relief.
“Mia?”
“Missing with Elise.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“I was afraid of that.”
“Start explaining.”
She looked at Evelyn.
Then Vincent.
“Not here.”
“Claire.”
“Grant, please.”
I hated that she could still use my name that way.
We moved deeper into the warehouse where Mercer waited.
I nearly hit him.
Claire stopped me.
“He saved my life.”
“He also lied to me for eight years.”
“So did I.”
“That doesn’t improve his case.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Is Sky my daughter?”
Claire looked at him.
“I think so.”
He went still.
“Think?”
“I never trusted the records enough to be certain.”
“What about Mia?”
Claire looked at Evelyn.
“Mia is Rebecca Crane’s daughter.”
“Then Nova—”
“Is yours, Grant.”
The world stopped.
I had told myself DNA did not matter.
It still mattered to hear.
“Are you certain?”
Claire nodded.
“I saw her blood test before the records were changed.”
My knees weakened.
Nova.
My daughter by every definition.
Sky likely Vincent’s.
Mia Rebecca’s.
Three girls.
Three fathers.
One terrible morning.
“Why were the bracelets switched?”
“Evelyn switched Rebecca’s first. I tried to correct it. Then Malcolm ordered Mercer to move Hannah’s child out of the clinic because he wanted leverage over Vincent.”
Vincent stared.
“My daughter was leverage?”
Claire looked sick.
“Your loyalty mattered to Malcolm. He believed if he secretly controlled your child, he controlled you forever.”
Vincent’s face went empty.
That was worse than anger.
“What did Pike do?”
“He took Sky to Lena.”
“On Malcolm’s orders?”
“No. Mine.”
Lena had been Claire’s friend.
Claire chose her to hide Sky.
“Why not tell Vincent?”
“Because Malcolm monitored him.”
Vincent turned away.
I understood the pain.
Protection through deception still felt like betrayal.
“What about Rebecca?”
Claire looked toward the water.
“She refused to give up Mia. Malcolm and Crane argued. Crane wanted the baby erased. Malcolm wanted the baby as leverage.”
“And you?”
“I helped Rebecca escape.”
“With Mia?”
“No.”
I frowned.
“Why not?”
“Because by then no one knew for certain which infant was hers.”
Again.
The bracelets.
Chaos.
“And Rebecca thought?”
“She believed Mia was hers after later testing.”
“Testing through whom?”
“Mercer.”
I glared at him.
He lifted his hands.
“Private lab. Different country.”
“Why did Rebecca appear at my house yesterday?”
Claire’s face tightened.
“That wasn’t Rebecca.”
Evelyn stared.
“I recognized her.”
“You recognized someone who looks like Rebecca.”
“Who?”
Claire took a breath.
“Her sister.”
I had never known Senator Crane had another daughter.
“Rose Crane.”
The caller.
The woman who demanded the girls.
“Rose was older,” Claire said. “Elias Crane hid her from public life after a breakdown in her twenties. She became obsessed with protecting the family legacy.”
“Meaning?”
“She believes Mia is the rightful heir to the Crane fortune and everyone else is a threat.”
“Where is Rebecca?”
Claire’s eyes filled.
“Dead.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I was with her.”
Silence.
“After we escaped the clinic, she helped me hide. For three years.”
“And then?”
“Rose found us.”
I understood.
“Rose killed her.”
Claire nodded.
“Then why are you alive?”
“She wanted information.”
“About Mia.”
“Yes.”
“Where has Mia been?”
“With Elise.”
“Who is Elise?”
Claire looked at me.
“Rebecca’s cousin.”
Everything connected.
“Elise became Nova’s caregiver to stay near us?”
“To stay near Mia and watch Nova. She believed Rose might eventually target one of the girls.”
“And you allowed that?”
“I arranged it.”
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
“My house has apparently been run by dead women.”
Claire almost smiled.
“I missed your terrible humor.”
Anger returned.
“You missed eight birthdays.”
Her smile died.
“I know.”
“You missed first words after surgeries. Nightmares. School. Every time she asked why her mother wasn’t there.”
“I know.”
“You could have called.”
“Not safely.”
“You called Evelyn.”
“Once.”
“You trusted her more than me.”
Claire looked at me.
“I trusted you to fight.”
“What does that mean?”
“If I called, you would have hunted Malcolm. Then Crane. Then everyone. You would have started a war.”
“I would have protected you.”
“No. You would have avenged me while I was still alive.”
That sentence destroyed my defense.
Because yes.
I would have.
The man I was then knew only escalation.
Claire touched my arm.
“I watched you raise Nova.”
“You watched?”
“From a distance.”
Rage flashed again.
“You watched her?”
“Yes.”
“Her birthdays?”
“Yes.”
“Her hospital stays?”
“Yes.”
“Her asking for you?”
Tears rolled down Claire’s face.
“Yes.”
I stepped away.
“Do not ask me to forgive that quickly.”
“I won’t.”
Good.
Because love did not erase damage.
Before we could continue, Vincent’s phone rang.
Lena.
He answered.
Her voice was frantic.
“Sky and Nova are gone.”
My vision narrowed.
“What?”
“Federal agent at the safe house was drugged. Back entrance opened.”
Claire went white.
“Rose.”
Then a message arrived on all our phones.
Three photographs.
Nova.
Sky.
Mia.
All sitting together in an unfamiliar room.
Alive.
Terrified.
A woman stood behind them.
Red hair.
Rose Crane.
The text beneath the image read:
THREE GIRLS.
THREE FATHERS.
ONE INHERITANCE.
COME TO CRANE HOUSE BEFORE MIDNIGHT.
A second line appeared.
BRING CLAIRE.
Claire stared at the screen.
Then whispered, “She doesn’t want the girls.”
I looked at her.
May you like
“What does she want?”
“Me.”
