Chapter 8 - SOMEONE WAS WATCHING THEM
Ethan read the message twice.
Then he called security.
Within twenty minutes, every entrance to the estate was locked down.
Rosa hated it.
She hated cameras.
Guards.
Locked gates.
The feeling that Lily had become trapped inside someone else’s war.
“I should leave.”
Ethan turned sharply.
“No.”
“This started because I came here.”
“This started four years ago.”
“My daughter is safer away from all of this.”
“Our daughter.”
Rosa looked at him.
Ethan softened his voice.
“Our daughter is safer where I can protect her.”
“You couldn’t protect me.”
The sentence came out before Rosa could stop it.
Ethan went silent.
She immediately regretted it.
But not enough to apologize.
Because it was true.
Ethan had not known what his aunt was doing.
But Rosa had still paid the price.
He nodded slowly.
“You’re right.”
That disarmed her.
“I was going to say you didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“How?”
“I should have looked for you.”
“You had a business crisis.”
“I had three months with a woman I claimed to love.”
Rosa’s breath caught.
Ethan continued.
“And when things settled down, I accepted your disappearance too easily.”
“You didn’t know I was pregnant.”
“I knew I missed you.”
“That should have been enough to make me look.”
Rosa looked away.
For years, she had imagined Ethan forgetting her immediately.
Now she was beginning to understand he had lived inside a lie too.
Thomas entered.
“We traced the message.”
Ethan turned.
“And?”
“Prepaid number.”
“Purchased with cash.”
“No useful camera footage.”
Rosa folded her arms.
“So nothing.”
“Not exactly.”
Thomas held out another tablet.
“The photo sent to you was never published.”
“It was taken by a private investigator.”
Rosa frowned.
“How do you know?”
“Metadata from the original image.”
Ethan’s face hardened.
“Which firm?”
“Blackwell Investigative Services.”
“I know them.”
Thomas nodded.
“So does your aunt.”
The investigator had been hired four years earlier.
The contract was still active.
Someone had been monitoring Rosa for years.
Her apartment.
Her work.
Lily’s daycare.
Even Rosa’s occasional visits to the public library.
Rosa stared at the report.
“I thought I was invisible.”
Ethan looked at her.
“You weren’t.”
That frightened her more.
That night, Rosa refused the guest suite.
She stayed in Lily’s room.
Ethan sat outside the door until almost two in the morning.
Rosa finally opened it.
“You’re sitting on the floor.”
“Yes.”
“You own sixteen bedrooms.”
“I know.”
“And chairs.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you sitting outside this door?”
Ethan looked embarrassed.
“I don’t know.”
Rosa leaned against the frame.
“You’re afraid she’ll disappear.”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Simple.
Raw.
Honest.
Rosa sat beside him.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Ethan whispered.
“I remember the last morning.”
Rosa looked at him.
“The last morning what?”
“The last morning we were together.”
She remembered too.
Rain against the windows.
Coffee growing cold.
His phone ringing repeatedly.
Ethan dressing quickly.
Promising to call.
“I thought I’d see you that night.”
Rosa nodded.
“So did I.”
“My father had a stroke.”
“I know.”
“I flew to London because our European division was collapsing at the same time.”
“I know.”
“My aunt told me you had called once.”
Rosa turned.
“What?”
“She said you were angry.”
“That you said you didn’t want this anymore.”
Rosa’s face drained.
“I never said that.”
“I know that now.”
“She told me you wanted me to leave you alone.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
“And I received the same message.”
Two people had spent four years believing the other walked away.
All because one woman decided their lives belonged to her.
A small sound came from Lily’s room.
Both stood immediately.
Lily appeared at the door.
Her curls were messy.
Button hung from one hand.
“You both outside?”
Ethan crouched.
“We were talking.”
Lily rubbed her eyes.
“Can’t sleep.”
Rosa reached for her.
Lily surprised them.
She reached for Ethan instead.
“Carry me?”
Ethan froze.
Then carefully lifted her.
Lily rested her head against his chest.
Within seconds, her eyes closed.
Ethan looked at Rosa over the child’s head.
His expression broke her heart.
Because for the first time, Rosa saw exactly what Margaret Caldwell had stolen from him.
Not money.
Not a relationship.
Three years of this.
Three years of holding his daughter.
Three years he could never get back.
The next morning, the laboratory called.
The report was ready.
Ethan opened it with trembling hands.
Probability of paternity.
99.9998 percent.
Lily Grace Martinez was unquestionably his daughter.
Ethan closed his eyes.
Then he kissed the top of her head.
“I’m your dad.”
Lily looked up at him.
She thought about that for several seconds.
Then asked the question neither adult expected.
May you like
“Does that mean you come live with me and Mama?”
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