Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE CAMERA
I never left Miami.
That was the first thing Marcus and I decided.
If Vanessa had really been working with her father, leaving the city would have been exactly what they wanted.
Instead, I moved quietly.
We followed the money.
By midnight, we discovered something unexpected.
Vanessa hadn't gone to her father's house.
She had gone to a small private clinic outside the city.
And the clinic had one patient registered under a false name.
Evan Price.
The man from the photographs.
I arrived with Marcus just after one in the morning.
Evan was unconscious.
Someone had beaten him badly enough to put him in intensive care.
But he was alive.
On the table beside his bed was a phone.
We recovered the last deleted message.
She knows about Claire.
My entire body went cold.
Grace was waiting at home.
Noah was sleeping.
Claire was dead.
What could Vanessa possibly know about Claire?
I returned home before dawn.
Grace was sitting on the sofa with a blanket around her shoulders.
She looked exhausted.
“You're back.”
“I told you I would be.”
She smiled.
Then noticed my expression.
“What happened?”
I sat beside her.
“Vanessa knew something about Claire.”
Grace went still.
“What?”
“I don't know.”
She stared toward the staircase.
“I've always wondered…”
“About what?”
“Why Claire died.”
I looked at her.
“The doctors said complications.”
“I know.”
“Grace.”
She hesitated.
“Before I started working here, I volunteered at a women's clinic.”
My attention sharpened.
“One of the nurses there remembered Claire.”
I stared at her.
“What did she say?”
“She said Claire was terrified before Noah was born.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“She never told me.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Because the nurse said Claire had received a phone call the night before she went into labor.”
“From whom?”
“We don't know.”
I stood.
“Why didn't you tell me before?”
“Because I didn't know if it mattered.”
I walked toward the study.
Claire's old files were still there.
I opened every folder.
Nothing.
Then I remembered something.
The hospital had given me a small sealed packet after Claire's death.
I had never opened it.
I found it buried in a drawer.
Inside was a handwritten note.
Patient requested that all personal correspondence be given to her husband.
There was one envelope.
Claire's handwriting.
I opened it.
Adrian,
If you're reading this, something happened before I could tell you.
I need you to trust me.
I know you will blame yourself.
Please don't.
The pregnancy was harder than we expected, but that isn't what scares me.
Someone has been asking questions about you.
About the business.
About Noah.
I don't know who.
But if something happens to me, don't let fear decide who raises our son.
Choose the person who makes him feel safe.
I stopped reading.
My hands shook.
Grace stood behind me.
“Adrian?”
I looked at her.
There was one final line.
And if that person ever becomes Grace, don't be afraid of loving her.
Grace covered her mouth.
I couldn't breathe.
She shook her head.
“No.”
I stared at the letter.
“How did she know your name?”
Grace's eyes filled with tears.
“She didn't.”
“What?”
“I met Claire once.”
The room went silent.
“When?”
“Before she died.”
My world tilted.
Grace sat down.
“She came to the clinic where I volunteered.”
“What did she say?”
“She asked me if I believed children could love someone they had never met.”
I stared at her.
“What did you say?”
“Yes.”
Grace cried quietly.
“She gave me Noah's name.”
I couldn't speak.
“She said, 'If anything happens to me, I want my son surrounded by people who know that love isn't ownership.'”
I closed my eyes.
All those years.
All those coincidences.
Maybe they weren't coincidences.
Then my phone rang.
Marcus.
“Boss, we found something.”
“What?”
“Vanessa's father just transferred a large amount of money to an offshore account.”
“How much?”
“Enough to disappear permanently.”
I looked at Grace.
“Anything else?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“The account was opened under a name you recognize.”
My stomach tightened.
“Whose?”
May you like
Marcus answered:
“Claire Cross.”
