Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN WHO NEVER STOPPED RUNNING
Damian read the note three times.
“I was pushed.”
The words seemed to move across the paper.
For four years, he had pictured Isabelle losing control of her car on a wet Chicago road.
He had tortured himself imagining her frightened and alone.
Now Elena was telling him someone had deliberately tried to kill her.
“Tell me everything,” Damian said.
Elena wiped her face.
“Isabelle arrived at the clinic just before midnight. She was soaked. Her wrist was injured, and she had a bruise along her shoulder.”
“Who brought her?”
“She drove herself.”
Damian stared.
“After the river?”
Elena nodded.
“She told me a man had forced her car toward the water. She escaped through the passenger door before it went over the embankment.”
“Did she recognize him?”
“She said she never saw his face.”
Damian looked at the note.
“But she suspected Victor.”
“She suspected whoever made those photographs.”
Elena sat heavily.
“She was frightened, Damian. Not just for herself. For Lily.”
“Why didn't she come to me?”
Elena's voice hardened.
“Because the last time she asked you to believe her, you threw her out.”
The accusation was quiet.
That made it worse.
Damian looked away.
Elena continued.
“She wanted to tell you about the baby before she left. She had the ultrasound picture in her purse. She said you wouldn't even let her finish speaking.”
Damian remembered the cream envelope.
He remembered Isabelle crying.
He remembered choosing the folder Victor had brought over the woman who had shared his bed.
“Where did she go afterward?”
“A safe apartment outside Milwaukee. I helped her arrange it.”
“And Lily?”
“She stayed with me for two nights. Isabelle said she needed to make sure nobody followed her.”
“Then?”
Elena looked toward the door.
“She came back. She held Lily for almost an hour. She sang to her.”
Damian's throat tightened.
“Why did she leave again?”
“Because she'd found something. She said the bank transfers weren't theft. They were payments made through an account someone had created using her identity.”
“What payments?”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
Elena reached into her pocket.
This time she produced an old hospital identification bracelet.
The faded plastic carried a newborn's name.
Baby Girl Vescari.
Damian held it with both hands.
The tiny bracelet had once fitted around his daughter's wrist.
“Why did you change her name?”
“Because somebody was searching hospitals for a Vescari baby.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Why become Elena Parker?”
“That has always been my name. But I used my sister's address to register Lily, and I became her legal guardian through a temporary protective arrangement. When nobody could find Isabelle, I petitioned to adopt her.”
Damian raised his eyes.
“You adopted my daughter?”
“I raised her.”
Elena's voice trembled.
“I changed her diapers. I sat beside her hospital bed when she had pneumonia. I taught her to walk.”
She swallowed.
“And when she started asking why she didn't have a daddy, I told her some families were different.”
Damian looked down at the bracelet.
He had missed all of it.
Her first steps.
Her first words.
Three Christmas mornings.
Three birthdays.
Because he had believed a lie.
“Why did you come to Greystone?”
Elena hesitated.
“That wasn't my idea.”
Damian went still.
“Whose was it?”
“Isabelle's.”
He stared at her.
“She contacted you?”
“Ten months ago.”
“Where?”
“A church outside Madison.”
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.”
Damian gripped the chair.
Elena continued.
“She looked exhausted. She'd cut her hair. She was living under another name.”
“Why bring Lily here?”
“Because Isabelle believed Victor was getting closer to us. She thought Lily would be safer under your protection, even if you didn't know who she was.”
Damian shook his head.
“She trusted me to protect our child, but not enough to tell me?”
“She was afraid you'd tell Victor.”
That silenced him.
Elena looked at him steadily.
“She wasn't wrong.”
From the nursery came Lily's laughter.
Damian closed his eyes.
He could hear her playing with Mr. Bun.
For the first time, the sound hurt.
“Does Lily know?”
“No. She knows me as Mommy Elena.”
Damian nodded slowly.
“We won't frighten her.”
Elena appeared surprised.
“I mean it,” he said. “Whatever happens, Lily keeps the mother who raised her.”
For the first time, Elena's shoulders relaxed.
Then she remembered something.
“There's one more thing.”
She crossed to a wooden cabinet and opened a narrow drawer.
Inside was a child's drawing.
Three stick figures stood beneath a yellow sun.
One had brown hair.
One had golden hair.
The third had black hair with a white streak.
Damian stared.
“Lily drew this?”
“Yes. After Isabelle visited us last winter.”
His breath caught.
“Last winter?”
Elena nodded.
“She came to our apartment once. Lily doesn't remember much.”
Damian looked at the third figure.
“Who is that?”
Elena answered softly.
“Isabelle told her it was Daddy.”
Damian touched the drawing.
And saw something written along the bottom in careful adult handwriting.
When the bells ring seven, remember the place where we first met.
Damian's blood ran cold.
The hospital fundraiser.
The charity hall.
Seven bells.
Then Elena said something that changed everything.
“Damian, Isabelle wasn't the only person who came to see Lily that winter.”
“Who else?”
Elena's face drained.
“Your father’s old adviser.”
Damian's fingers tightened around the drawing.
“Victor?”
Elena shook her head.
“No.”
May you like
She whispered the name.
“Victor's wife, Margaret Hale.”
