Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO WAS WATCHING MY DAUGHTERS
I stood immediately.
The man in the navy coat disappeared into the crowd.
“Stay here.”
Evelyn grabbed my sleeve.
“No.”
“You said he's here for the girls.”
“That's why you can't follow him.”
“I am not letting anyone near them.”
Her expression softened.
“I know.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
She looked at the girls.
“Six years ago, your mother didn't just make me disappear.”
“What else?”
“She paid someone to make sure you never searched.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe you survived six years without knowing?”
“I was trying to keep two babies alive.”
That stopped me.
Evelyn had dark circles beneath her eyes.
Her coat was old.
Her suitcase was battered.
She looked like someone who had spent six years choosing survival over comfort.
I lowered my voice.
“What happened after the twins were born?”
She looked at the girls.
“I went to Connecticut.”
“You left New York?”
“Yes.”
“I found work.”
“Doing what?”
“Event planning.”
She gave a faint smile.
“Ironic, isn't it?”
“What?”
“I spent years arranging parties for wealthy people, while my daughters slept in borrowed apartments.”
I felt ashamed.
“I should have found you.”
“You tried.”
“My mother stopped me.”
“Yes.”
“Why did you let her?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“Because I was afraid she would take the girls.”
I looked toward the crowd.
“Did she threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“What did she do?”
“She showed me hospital records.”
My chest tightened.
“Whose?”
The girls'.
“She had copies of their medical files.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because Lily was born with a heart murmur.”
I looked at Lily.
She immediately hid behind Evelyn.
“She needed surgery when she was three.”
My throat tightened.
“Is she okay?”
“Now.”
“What happened?”
“She had a procedure.”
“Where?”
“Boston.”
I froze.
“The estate I'm flying to Boston to acquire?”
Evelyn nodded.
“That's why I was going there.”
“Why?”
“Her cardiologist is there.”
I stared at her.
“You were taking them to Boston because of Lily.”
“Yes.”
“Then why the suitcase?”
“Because we're not coming back.”
Before I could respond, the navy-coated man appeared again.
This time he was closer.
He stopped beside a coffee kiosk.
I recognized him.
Not personally.
From a photograph.
He was standing behind my mother at a charity gala three years ago.
My mother had called him a security consultant.
I stepped forward.
Evelyn caught my arm.
“Don't.”
“That's the man.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“He has followed us before.”
My anger surged.
I walked toward him anyway.
He noticed.
His face changed.
He turned and walked quickly toward the opposite terminal.
I followed.
“Hey!”
He kept walking.
I increased my pace.
He entered an airport bookstore.
I pushed through the door.
The man had disappeared.
But a book sat on the counter.
A children's story about two sisters.
Inside was a photograph.
Lily and Claire.
Taken yesterday.
My hands went cold.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHY YOUR FATHER WAS NEVER TOLD.
I turned.
Evelyn was standing behind me.
She looked at the photograph.
Then closed her eyes.
“What is it?”
She didn't answer.
“Evelyn.”
She whispered,
“Your mother wasn't the only person who wanted you separated.”
I stared.
“Who else?”
“Your father.”
I felt like I'd been struck.
“My father died before the girls were born.”
“I know.”
“So how could he—”
“He wasn't trying to keep you away from them.”
She shook her head.
“He was trying to keep someone else away.”
“Who?”
She reached into her suitcase.
She removed an old navy-blue coat.
It was worn at the cuffs.
I recognized it.
My father had worn that coat during my college graduation.
I stared at it.
“Why do you have this?”
“Your mother gave it to me.”
“Why?”
Evelyn opened the inside pocket.
There was a folded photograph.
It showed my father standing with Eleanor.
And a third person.
A man I didn't recognize.
On the back was written:
If anything happens to me, keep Marcus away from the Vance Foundation.
I looked at Evelyn.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“Who is the man?”
“I never met him.”
I turned the photograph over again.
There was something else.
A small symbol in the corner.
A blue compass.
My father's old company had used that symbol.
But the Vance Foundation hadn't.
I remembered something.
My father had once told me never to trust a business that used family loyalty as a shield.
At the time, I thought he was talking about my mother.
Maybe he wasn't.
A security announcement sounded.
My flight was boarding.
Boston.
The business deal.
The estate.
The timing suddenly felt too convenient.
I looked at Evelyn.
“Why were you really going to Boston?”
She hesitated.
“Because someone sent me a letter.”
“Who?”
She pulled another envelope from her bag.
The paper was expensive.
The handwriting was elegant.
I recognized it immediately.
My mother's.
The letter contained only one sentence.
Bring my granddaughters to the Vance estate, and I will finally tell Marcus the truth.
I stared at it.
Then another page slipped out.
A list.
Three names.
My mother.
My father.
And mine.
Beside my name was a date.
Tomorrow.
Evelyn looked at me.
“I think your mother knew exactly when you'd be in Boston.”
I looked toward the departure gate.
My biggest business deal suddenly felt like a trap.
And then my phone rang.
It was my mother.
I answered.
“Mom?”
Her voice was calm.
Far too calm.
“Marcus,” she said.
May you like
Then she paused.
“Don't take Evelyn to Boston.”
