Chapter 7 - THE MAN WHO CALLED HIM SON
Damian folded Isabelle's letter with extraordinary care.
Victor knew.
All those years of condolences.
The funeral.
The late-night conversations when Damian drank too much and admitted he still dreamed about Isabelle.
Victor had known she was alive.
He had watched Damian grieve a living woman.
Enzo stood beside him.
“What do you want to do?”
Damian looked at the old diary.
“Find out who helped him.”
He did not shout.
He did not overturn the table.
That frightened Enzo more than anger would have.
Damian had finally understood that rage was how Victor controlled him.
Back at Greystone, Victor was waiting in the library.
He stood beside the fireplace wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit.
“Damian,” he said warmly. “I've been trying to reach you.”
Damian crossed the room.
“Busy evening.”
Victor smiled.
“So I hear.”
He glanced toward Enzo.
“I understand you've been visiting old financial archives.”
Damian gave no sign of surprise.
“Someone told you?”
“People still respect me in this city.”
Victor straightened his cuffs.
“And I believe there's a problem with your housekeeper.”
Damian watched him.
“What problem?”
“Elena Parker has an unusual employment history. Her daughter's documents are inconsistent. I would hate for someone to take advantage of your generosity.”
Damian thought of Lily offering him a purple marker.
“She's a good employee.”
“Perhaps. But children can be useful to people seeking leverage.”
Damian felt anger rise.
He forced it down.
“Leverage?”
Victor studied him.
“You've become attached to the little girl.”
“She's a child.”
“And you're a lonely man.”
The words were delivered gently.
Like advice from an uncle.
Like poison hidden in honey.
Victor stepped closer.
“I've worried about you since Isabelle. You never recovered.”
Damian looked directly at him.
“Did you?”
Victor blinked.
“Did I what?”
“Recover from losing Margaret.”
For the first time, Victor's expression faltered.
“My marriage was complicated.”
“So was mine.”
Victor nodded slowly.
“You're upset.”
“I'm asking about your wife.”
“She died.”
“Of course.”
Damian let the silence stretch.
Then Victor asked, “Have you found anything interesting in those archives?”
“Old mistakes.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“Your father made plenty.”
“Yes,” Damian replied. “He trusted the wrong people.”
Victor's face went still.
For several seconds neither man spoke.
Then Victor smiled.
“I hope you're not including me.”
Damian returned the smile.
“Why would I?”
Victor left fifteen minutes later.
Enzo waited until his car disappeared beyond the gates.
“He knows we're looking.”
“Yes.”
“Should we detain him?”
“No. If we move now, he destroys whatever is left.”
Damian looked upstairs.
“And he isn't coming near Lily.”
Elena was waiting outside the nursery when Damian arrived.
“He came here,” she said.
“I know.”
“He asked one of the maids about Lily's birthmark.”
Damian stopped.
“What did she tell him?”
“Nothing. I warned the staff not to discuss Lily.”
Damian nodded.
Then Elena handed him a folded paper.
“Lily made this for you.”
It was another drawing.
Three figures stood beside a huge house.
The smallest figure held two hands.
Above them, Lily had drawn a purple heart.
Damian's throat tightened.
“She asked if you'd eat pancakes with us tomorrow,” Elena said.
“I will.”
Elena studied him.
“Did you find Isabelle?”
“No. But I found something she wanted me to see.”
He told Elena about the diary.
About Victor's theft.
About the letter.
When he reached the sentence explaining that Victor had known Isabelle survived, Elena covered her mouth.
“She was right,” Elena whispered.
“Yes.”
“She kept telling me he knew.”
Damian frowned.
“When?”
“During the last winter visit. Isabelle said Victor had arranged for someone to photograph her outside the clinic. She wasn't guessing anymore.”
“Did she explain how she knew?”
Elena nodded.
“She had seen his watch.”
Damian stared.
“His watch?”
“A gold watch with a blue face. Isabelle said the man following her wore one just like Victor's.”
Damian remembered that watch.
Victor had given it to his nephew, Adrian Hale, years earlier.
Adrian managed several foundation properties.
He was quiet, polite, and almost invisible beside his uncle.
“Adrian,” Damian whispered.
Elena looked frightened.
“What?”
Damian turned toward Enzo.
“Find Adrian Hale.”
Enzo checked his phone.
Then frowned.
“He resigned from the foundation this morning.”
“Where is he?”
“According to his departure paperwork, he's leaving for Denver.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
Damian moved toward the hallway.
Elena caught his sleeve.
“Damian, wait.”
He turned.
She looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“Whatever you discover, remember Lily doesn't understand any of this.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
“She's starting to love you.”
Damian looked at the drawing.
“I love her too.”
The words surprised them both.
Elena released his sleeve.
Then she whispered, “Isabelle would have wanted to hear that.”
An hour later, Enzo intercepted Adrian's departure arrangements through a contact at the foundation.
There was no ticket to Denver.
Instead, Adrian had reserved a private car to a rehabilitation center in Wisconsin.
The reservation included two passengers.
Adrian Hale.
And a woman traveling under the name Anna Mercer.
Damian stared at the printed reservation.
He had seen that name once before.
On a pharmacy receipt tucked inside Isabelle's letter.
Anna Mercer.
May you like
His wife's hiding name.
And Adrian Hale was scheduled to collect her the following morning.
