Chapter 3 - THE OTHER NAME ON SOPHIE’S PASSPORT
The false passport identified Sophie as:
SARA MERCER.
Six years old.
American citizen.
Daughter of Richard Mercer.
Ethan stared at the photograph.
Same blond hair.
Same blue-gray eyes.
Same tiny gap between her front teeth.
His daughter’s face.
Another man’s name.
Detective Alvarez stood beside him in the mansion library.
“This passport was professionally produced.”
“Meaning?”
“Not something printed in a basement.”
Ethan looked toward Celeste.
She was gone.
Not free.
Police had transported her to headquarters for questioning.
Richard remained missing.
“Were they taking Sophie permanently?”
“That’s what we need to determine.”
Ethan thought about the ticket.
One-way.
New York to Lisbon.
Connecting flight to a destination Ethan had not initially noticed.
Monaco.
“Why Monaco?”
Alvarez answered.
“The Harrington Trust has an international holding entity registered there.”
Of course.
Money again.
Except Claire’s letter had specifically warned him not to focus on money.
That bothered Ethan.
If eighty-six million dollars was not the most dangerous part of the secret, what was?
Sophie woke shortly after two in the morning.
Ethan sat beside her.
She looked around his bedroom.
“Is she gone?”
“Yes.”
“Forever?”
The question hit him harder than expected.
He did not lie.
“I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”
Sophie studied his face.
“Are you mad at me?”
Ethan stared at her.
“What?”
“Celeste said you’d be mad if I ruined the trip.”
He pulled Sophie into his arms.
“No.”
Her body relaxed slightly.
“I’m not mad at you.”
“She said you wanted me to go.”
“I didn’t.”
“She showed me a paper.”
“What paper?”
Sophie shrugged.
“It had your name.”
A forged parental consent form.
Another piece.
“How long has Richard been here?”
Sophie thought.
“Lots.”
“When Daddy is away?”
She nodded.
“Did Celeste tell you not to tell me?”
Another nod.
“Why?”
“She said you get sad about Mommy.”
Ethan looked away.
Celeste had weaponized his grief.
Every time Sophie tried to mention something connected to Claire, Celeste redirected her.
Every time Ethan asked about the old bedroom, Celeste called his attachment unhealthy.
Every business trip had become an opportunity.
And Ethan had thanked Celeste for helping him “move forward.”
The guilt was unbearable.
Sophie touched his cheek.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Mommy said you make a funny face when you’re thinking too hard.”
Ethan smiled despite everything.
“She was right.”
Sophie reached for the photograph.
“Can I keep it?”
“Always.”
She hugged it.
Then hesitated.
“There was a lady.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“What lady?”
“At the airport.”
“You went to the airport?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“On Celeste’s phone.”
“A picture?”
Sophie nodded.
“She said the lady would meet us.”
“What did she look like?”
“Old.”
Ethan almost smiled.
To a six-year-old, forty could be ancient.
“Hair?”
“White.”
“Anything else?”
Sophie pointed toward her own neck.
“She had Mommy’s necklace.”
Claire’s necklace.
Ethan knew exactly which one.
A sapphire pendant Claire had inherited from her mother.
It disappeared after Claire died.
Ethan assumed it had been lost in the crash.
If someone else had it—
“Did Celeste say her name?”
Sophie frowned.
Then whispered,
“Margaret.”
Ethan’s heart stopped.
May you like
Claire’s mother was named Margaret Harrington.
And she had been declared dead eleven years earlier.
