CHAPTER 2 THE MAN BEHIND THE WINDOW
The rain began just before midnight.
Not the violent kind that rattled windows or flooded streets.
This was quieter.
A thin Manhattan rain that painted the hospital glass in silver streaks and turned the city beyond it into a blur of headlights and shadows.
Adrian Moretti stood in front of the window with one hand pressed against the glass.
His shoulder hurt.
His chest hurt more.
The doctors had told him to rest.
He had ignored them.
Rest was for men who believed tomorrow was guaranteed.
Adrian no longer had that luxury.
Behind him, the hospital room door opened.
He didn't turn.
“She's asleep.”
Vincent Russo's voice.
Adrian recognized it immediately.
“Lily?”
“Yes.”
Something loosened inside Adrian.
Just hearing her name did that now.
“How was she?”
Vincent walked farther into the room.
“Normal.”
Adrian finally turned.
“What does that mean?”
“It means she argued with Sarah about brushing her teeth, asked for another bedtime story, complained that her stuffed bear was looking at her funny, and then fell asleep holding it.”
For the first time in days, Adrian almost smiled.
“Sounds familiar.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
“You were like that?”
“No.”
“Then where did she get it?”
Adrian looked toward the rain-covered window.
“Her mother.”
Vincent gave a quiet laugh.
Then his expression became serious again.
“Sarah wants to talk to you.”
Adrian's smile disappeared.
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
“She's angry.”
“Yes.”
“How angry?”
Vincent considered that.
“Angry enough that I'd rather face Volkov.”
Adrian nodded slowly.
“I deserve it.”
Vincent didn't disagree.
That hurt more than if he had.
Adrian returned to the window.
“Tell me about Lily.”
“I already gave you the report.”
“I don't want the report.”
Vincent understood.
“You want the things that aren't in the report.”
“Yes.”
Vincent pulled the chair closer.
“She hates tomatoes.”
Adrian looked at him.
“Really?”
“Apparently.”
“Why?”
“Because she's six.”
Adrian almost smiled again.
“What does she like?”
“Strawberry pancakes. Blue crayons. That ridiculous stuffed bear. Butterflies. She likes dinosaurs but insists the small ones are babies.”
Adrian listened.
Every detail felt absurdly important.
“Favorite color?”
“Yellow.”
Adrian nodded.
“Favorite book?”
“There's one about a little fox who gets lost.”
“Why does she like it?”
Vincent shrugged.
“Sarah says Lily always asks why the fox's mother keeps looking for him.”
Adrian's expression changed.
“Does she?”
“Every night.”
Silence.
Adrian looked down.
For three years, he had told himself Lily didn't need him.
That she was better without knowing what kind of man her father was.
Yet here was a six-year-old girl listening to stories about mothers searching for lost children.
And every night, she asked why the search mattered.
Adrian's throat tightened.
“Does she ever ask about me?”
Vincent didn't answer immediately.
That was enough.
Adrian turned.
“How often?”
“Every few days.”
“What does she ask?”
“Sometimes it's simple.”
“Like?”
“Why doesn't she have a daddy?”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“And sometimes?”
“She asks if he's dead.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Adrian stared at the floor.
“She thinks I'm dead?”
“She doesn't know you exist.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Vincent sighed.
“She knows other children have fathers. She knows she doesn't. Children fill empty spaces with whatever explanation makes sense.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“What does Sarah tell her?”
“That you're…”
Vincent stopped.
“She's told her different things over the years.”
“Different things?”
“Sometimes she says you live far away.”
Adrian looked at him.
“Sometimes?”
“She says you're working.”
“And when Lily asks when I'll come home?”
Vincent's silence answered him.
Adrian turned away.
The pain in his chest was no longer subtle.
He pressed a hand against it.
Vincent immediately noticed.
“Sit down.”
“I’m fine.”
“You're not.”
Adrian ignored him.
“I need the meeting tomorrow.”
“Doctor said—”
“I don't care what the doctor said.”
“You should.”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“I'm thirty-four years old, Vincent.”
“I know.”
“My father died at forty-five.”
“I know.”
“My heart could stop.”
“I know.”
Adrian looked at him.
“And my daughter is six years old.”
Vincent said nothing.
Adrian's voice dropped.
“I've already missed three years.”
The words hung between them.
Then Vincent said quietly:
“Then don't miss the fourth.”
Sarah Bennett was waiting when Adrian entered the private consultation room the following morning.
She stood beside the window.
Arms folded.
Face pale.
Eyes red.
But she wasn't crying.
Sarah had never been the kind of woman who cried in front of people she didn't trust.
And Adrian had not earned her trust.
Not yet.
The door closed behind him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Sarah turned.
The first thing Adrian noticed was how tired she looked.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
The kind of exhaustion that came from carrying a secret for too long.
“You should have stayed away.”
Adrian stopped.
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You don't know.”
Adrian said nothing.
Sarah walked toward him.
“You think because you watched her from a distance, you know what it was like?”
“No.”
“You think because you paid for her school and medical care and security, that makes you her father?”
“No.”
“Then what exactly do you think you are?”
Adrian looked at her.
“I don't know.”
Sarah's anger faltered for half a second.
Because she had expected arrogance.
She had expected the ruthless man everyone whispered about.
Instead, she saw something she had never seen in Adrian before.
Fear.
Not fear for himself.
Fear for his daughter.
Sarah looked away.
“You shouldn't have come.”
“I had to.”
“You could put her in danger.”
“I know.”
“You could destroy the life I've spent six years building.”
“I know.”
“You could make her love you and then disappear.”
That one struck him.
Adrian swallowed.
“I don't intend to disappear.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
“I know.”
Sarah's eyes flashed.
“Then stop saying you know.”
Adrian remained silent.
Sarah wiped at the corner of one eye.
“You want to meet her?”
“Yes.”
“You want her to know you're her father?”
“Yes.”
“Then understand something.”
She stepped closer.
“You don't get to do this because you're afraid of dying.”
Adrian froze.
Sarah stared directly into his eyes.
“I know about your diagnosis.”
Vincent had told her.
Adrian's expression tightened.
“Sarah—”
“No.”
She raised a hand.
“You've spent three years deciding what was best for everyone.”
Her voice broke slightly.
“Now you're suddenly afraid you don't have enough time.”
Adrian couldn't deny it.
“You're right.”
Sarah looked almost surprised.
“I don't want to die without knowing her.”
“That isn't enough.”
“I know.”
“She needs stability.”
“I can give her that.”
“She needs a father who stays.”
“I will.”
“She needs someone who doesn't disappear when things become dangerous.”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“I will never leave her again.”
Sarah studied him.
“You can't promise that.”
“Then I'll promise something else.”
“What?”
“I will spend every day I have left making sure she knows she was loved.”
Sarah's face softened.
Just slightly.
Then she whispered:
“You've never met her.”
“I know.”
“You don't know what she likes.”
“I've been learning.”
“You don't know what scares her.”
“I want to.”
“You don't know what she dreams about.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Then tell me.”
Sarah's eyes filled with tears.
“She dreams about meeting her father.”
Adrian stopped breathing for a moment.
Sarah looked down.
“She draws him constantly.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“Vincent told me.”
Sarah gave a bitter laugh.
“Of course he did.”
She crossed the room and opened her purse.
Then she removed a folded sheet of paper.
She placed it on the table.
Adrian stared at it.
“That's one of hers.”
He slowly reached for it.
The paper trembled slightly between his fingers.
A child's drawing.
Three figures stood beneath a yellow sun.
A little girl.
A woman.
And a tall man.
The man had no face.
No eyes.
No mouth.
No nose.
Just a blank oval.
Adrian stared at it for several seconds.
Then he noticed something else.
The little girl's hand was connected to the man's hand.
Not Sarah's.
His.
Adrian's throat tightened.
“She drew this last week.”
“Why is his face blank?”
Sarah looked at him.
“I asked her.”
“And?”
“She said she didn't know what he looked like.”
Adrian lowered his eyes.
Sarah continued.
“But then I asked her something else.”
“What?”
“What would you give him if you could?”
Adrian looked up.
“What did she say?”
“A face.”
The word destroyed him.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
It simply broke something inside him.
Adrian put the drawing down.
“I want to meet her.”
Sarah nodded.
“Tomorrow.”
Adrian looked at her.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“The park.”
“Too exposed.”
“It's where she feels comfortable.”
“Security—”
“I don't care about your security.”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“I do.”
“Then bring your men.”
Sarah picked up the drawing.
“But if you frighten her, I'll never forgive you.”
Adrian nodded.
“I won't.”
“And Adrian?”
He stopped at the door.
Sarah looked at him.
“Don't tell her everything.”
“Why?”
“She is six.”
Adrian nodded.
“She doesn't need to know about Volkov. She doesn't need to know about guns. She doesn't need to know about your business.”
“I agree.”
“She needs to know one thing.”
“What?”
Sarah's eyes met his.
“That you came because you wanted to.”
Adrian's voice was barely audible.
“I did.”
Sarah opened the door.
“Then tomorrow, you finally become her father.”
The next afternoon, Adrian stood across the street from Washington Square Park.
For three years, he had watched Lily from a distance.
Today, the distance was gone.
That terrified him more than any gun ever had.
He wore a dark coat.
No visible weapon.
No bodyguards beside him.
Vincent had stationed security far enough away that Lily wouldn't notice.
Adrian could see her.
Yellow jacket.
Pink sneakers.
Hair tied into two uneven ponytails.
She was holding Mr. Buttons by one arm.
Sarah sat beside her on a bench.
Adrian stared.
Six years old.
His daughter.
His entire life had been reduced to one small figure running across fallen leaves.
His heart gave a strange beat.
Adrian instinctively touched his chest.
“Easy,” Vincent murmured through the earpiece.
Adrian ignored him.
Lily suddenly looked up.
Their eyes met.
Everything stopped.
Adrian couldn't move.
Neither could she.
The little girl tilted her head.
She stared at him with the solemn curiosity children reserved for strangers who somehow felt familiar.
Sarah said something.
Lily didn't answer.
She kept looking at Adrian.
Then she whispered something.
Sarah turned.
“What?”
Lily pointed.
“At him.”
Adrian's heart hammered.
Sarah looked across the park.
She saw him.
Then she looked back at Lily.
“Do you want to meet him?”
Lily nodded.
Sarah stood.
Adrian took one step forward.
Then another.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
When he was finally standing in front of them, he realized something terrifying.
He had rehearsed this moment a thousand times.
None of the words survived.
Lily looked up at him.
“Hi.”
Adrian swallowed.
“Hi.”
She stared at him.
“You're the man from the pictures.”
His heart stopped.
Not literally.
But it felt that way.
“What pictures?”
“The ones Mommy keeps.”
Sarah's face went pale.
Adrian looked at her.
Lily stepped closer.
“You look like him.”
“Like who?”
She pointed at the drawing Sarah still held.
“The man without a face.”
Adrian couldn't speak.
Lily studied him.
Then she asked the question he had spent three years both fearing and desperately wanting to hear.
“Do you know my daddy?”
Adrian's eyes burned.
He crouched slowly so they were at the same height.
“Yes.”
Lily waited.
“Who is he?”
Adrian looked at Sarah.
She gave him the smallest nod.
He turned back to Lily.
His voice shook.
“I am.”
Lily blinked.
Once.
Twice.
Then she looked at Sarah.
Sarah nodded.
The little girl turned back toward Adrian.
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then she reached into her small backpack.
She pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Adrian watched as she opened it.
Another drawing.
The same faceless man.
But this one was different.
Lily had drawn a small red heart over his chest.
Adrian stared at it.
“Why did you draw that?”
She shrugged.
“Because I think he has a heart.”
Adrian's throat closed.
She pointed at the blank face.
“But I don't know his face yet.”
Adrian smiled through the tears he refused to let fall.
“You can take your time.”
Lily looked at him.
Then, very slowly, she reached out.
Her tiny hand touched his.
Adrian froze.
Three years of distance ended with the smallest touch imaginable.
Her fingers curled around his.
His heart raced.
The monitor wasn't there to warn him.
The doctors weren't there to tell him to sit down.
There was no diagnosis.
No enemy.
No gunfire.
Only his daughter.
Lily looked up.
“Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Your shoulder.”
Adrian stared at her.
“How do you know?”
“Mommy said you got hurt.”
Sarah's eyes widened.
She hadn't told Lily about the shooting.
Adrian looked at Sarah.
Sarah looked equally confused.
Then Lily smiled.
“I know.”
“Know what?”
She pointed at his chest.
“You're the man in my dreams.”
Adrian went completely still.
Before he could respond, Lily leaned closer and whispered:
“But in my dreams…”
She smiled.
“You have a face.”
And somewhere behind them, across the street, a man lowered his phone after taking a photograph.
He wasn't one of Vincent's men.
He wasn't part of Adrian's security team.
He was a stranger.
Watching.
Waiting.
And when he turned away from the park, he made one phone call.
“Volkov needs to know.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“I found the girl.”
May you like
He looked back at Lily.
“And now we know exactly where Moretti's heart is.”
