Chapter 2 - The Ghost of the Past
The sterile smell of bleach and iodine hit me the moment I stepped off the elevator onto the fourth floor. Vance and two of my security operatives flanked me, their eyes scanning the hallway. I gestured for them to stay at the door as I pushed open the door to Room 412.
The room was dim, illuminated only by the rhythmic flashing of heart monitors.
In the bed lay the woman from the photograph. She was devastatingly pale, her cheekbones sharp from weight loss, but beneath the ravages of illness, I recognized her.
"Sarah," I whispered, the name catching in my throat.
Sarah Evans. She had been my brother Thomas's lead software engineer. She vanished the week after his funeral, leaving no forwarding address.
Sarah slowly opened her eyes. When she saw me, a weak, tragic smile touched her lips. "Hello, David. I saw the shoes Lily was wearing. I knew she had found you. Or... you found her."
I stepped closer, my mind spinning. "Sarah, what is going on? Why are you here? Why is your daughter..."
I stopped. I looked at the little yellow raincoat draped over the visitor's chair. I remembered the dark, messy curls. The shape of her jaw.
"Lily," I choked out, the realization hitting me like a freight train. "She’s six years old. Thomas died six years ago."
Tears spilled over Sarah’s eyelashes, tracking down her pale cheeks. "She’s his, David. She is Thomas's daughter. Your niece."
I gripped the metal railing of the bed, my knees suddenly weak. I had a niece. A piece of my brother was still alive. For six years, I had believed I was entirely alone in the world, living in a silent penthouse, building an empire for no one.
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"Why?" I demanded, anger and sorrow warring in my chest. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have given you everything. She was wearing shoes that were falling apart, Sarah!"
"Because if they knew she existed," Sarah whispered, her voice dropping to a terrified rasp, "they would have killed her too."
