CHAPTER 4 THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE DRAWER
The photograph was six inches wide.
Old.
Faded.
Its edges had yellowed with age, and a crease ran diagonally across the center.
But Adrian recognized the man immediately.
His father.
Marco Moretti.
Younger than Adrian remembered him.
Thirty-nine, perhaps.
Standing in front of the old Moretti warehouse in Red Hook, wearing a dark suit and a look of absolute confidence.
But Marco wasn't alone.
Adrian stared at the second man in the photograph.
Daniel Cross.
He looked younger too.
No gray in his hair.
No scar on his neck.
One hand rested on Marco's shoulder.
The other held a small black folder.
Adrian turned the photograph over.
Nothing.
Only six faded words.
THE BLOODLINE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO END.
He read them again.
Then again.
“What does that mean?”
Vincent stood across the abandoned daycare classroom.
“I don't know.”
Adrian looked up.
“That's not good enough.”
“I know.”
“You've worked for me for eleven years.”
“I know.”
“You've investigated men for less.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“I've been trying to find Cross for years.”
“And you never told me?”
“I didn't know he was alive.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“You just said he was seen three weeks ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then someone knew.”
Vincent didn't answer.
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“Someone inside my organization knew Cross was alive.”
“That is what I'm afraid of.”
Adrian looked back at the photograph.
His father's smile bothered him.
Not because it was unusual.
Because Adrian couldn't remember ever seeing it.
Marco Moretti had been a difficult man.
Hard.
Cold.
Disciplined.
He had taught Adrian that weakness was something other men could smell.
He had taught him never to trust anyone completely.
Never to reveal what mattered.
Never to let an enemy know where the heart was.
And yet here he was, smiling beside Daniel Cross.
Almost like a friend.
“Tell me everything about Cross.”
Vincent took a breath.
“Daniel Cross worked with your father before you were old enough to understand what your family actually did.”
“How long?”
“Almost ten years.”
“Doing what?”
“Logistics. Security. Financial movement.”
Adrian's expression changed.
“Financial movement?”
“Your father trusted him with money.”
“My father trusted nobody.”
“Except Cross.”
Adrian stared at the photograph.
“Why?”
“We don't know.”
“Then find out.”
Vincent nodded.
Adrian folded the photograph.
“Take it.”
Vincent reached for it.
Adrian stopped him.
“No.”
He put the photograph inside his coat.
“I'll keep it.”
The Moretti residence was silent when Adrian returned.
Too silent.
Sarah had moved Lily into the master bedroom.
The little girl was still asleep.
Two security men stood outside the house.
Four more watched the perimeter.
Adrian checked every entrance himself.
Every window.
Every camera.
Every blind spot.
He had lived this life long enough to know that the strongest fortress could still be breached by one careless assumption.
And tonight, he trusted nothing.
Sarah found him in the hallway.
“You frightened her.”
Adrian turned.
“What?”
“Lily woke up.”
His stomach dropped.
“Is she okay?”
“She asked why there were men outside.”
Adrian looked toward the bedroom.
“I'll explain.”
“No.”
Sarah stepped in front of him.
“You need to understand something.”
Adrian waited.
“You can't suddenly bring your entire world into hers and expect her to understand.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
Sarah's voice lowered.
“She finally met you yesterday.”
Adrian looked toward Lily's bedroom.
“She held your hand.”
“I know.”
“She smiled at you.”
“I know.”
“And now she wakes up to armed men around the house.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Someone photographed her through the window.”
Sarah went pale.
“What?”
“While she was sleeping.”
Sarah stared at him.
“Are you serious?”
Adrian nodded.
Her anger vanished.
Fear replaced it.
“Who?”
“We don't know.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Finding him.”
Sarah stepped closer.
“And what happens while you're finding him?”
Adrian didn't answer.
Sarah's eyes filled with tears.
“You promised me.”
“I didn't promise she would never be afraid.”
“You promised you would protect her.”
“I will.”
“You don't understand.”
Her voice cracked.
“She doesn't need a war.”
Adrian looked at her.
“She already has one.”
Sarah stared at him.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“She has a father.”
The words hit harder than anything else she could have said.
Adrian looked down.
Sarah wiped her eyes.
“That's what she needs.”
Then she walked away.
At 3:05 a.m., Lily woke again.
Adrian was sitting outside the bedroom door.
He had been there for almost an hour.
He didn't want to enter without permission.
He didn't want to become another stranger forcing himself into her world.
The door opened slightly.
Lily's face appeared.
“Daddy?”
Adrian's heart stopped.
She had never called him that before.
He stood immediately.
“Yes?”
“Are you there?”
“I am.”
She opened the door.
“Can I sit with you?”
Adrian crouched.
“Of course.”
She walked into the hallway carrying Mr. Buttons.
She sat beside him.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Lily leaned against his arm.
Adrian froze.
He was terrified to move.
Terrified that one wrong movement would break the moment.
“You're warm.”
Adrian smiled.
“So are you.”
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Are you going away?”
Adrian's smile disappeared.
“No.”
“Promise?”
He looked at her.
“I promise I'll always try to be here.”
Lily frowned.
“That isn't a real promise.”
Adrian almost laughed.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Then make a real one.”
Adrian thought about his heart.
About the diagnosis.
About the things doctors could predict and the things they couldn't.
He couldn't promise forever.
But he could promise something else.
“I promise I will never choose to leave you.”
Lily considered that.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
She leaned against him again.
After a moment, she whispered:
“Can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“The man from my picture came back.”
Adrian's body went rigid.
“What man?”
“The man with the black eyes.”
His pulse quickened.
“When?”
“Before you came.”
“Where?”
Lily pointed toward the window.
“He stood there.”
Adrian slowly looked at the window.
The curtains were closed.
He looked back at her.
“What did he say?”
Lily's fingers tightened around Mr. Buttons.
“He asked me where Daddy was.”
Adrian's blood turned cold.
“What did you say?”
“I said I didn't know.”
“Then what?”
“He said Daddy was hiding.”
Adrian swallowed.
“Did he touch you?”
Lily shook her head.
“Did he come inside?”
“No.”
“Did Mommy see him?”
“No.”
Adrian forced himself to remain calm.
“What else?”
Lily looked at him.
“He said something else.”
“What?”
“He said Daddy didn't know what happened to Grandpa.”
Adrian froze.
“What?”
“Grandpa.”
Lily pointed at him.
“Your daddy.”
Adrian stared.
His father.
“How does he know about Grandpa?”
Lily shrugged.
“I don't know.”
Adrian looked toward the hallway.
Vincent was standing at the far end.
Adrian nodded once.
Vincent immediately understood.
He stepped away.
Adrian turned back to Lily.
“Did the man say his name?”
She shook her head.
“Did he look like anyone you know?”
Lily thought.
“He had a scar.”
“Where?”
She touched her neck.
“Here.”
Adrian's face hardened.
The same scar from the drawing.
The same man.
The same description.
He was real.
And he had been close to Lily long before Adrian knew.
“Daddy?”
Adrian looked down.
“I'm here.”
“Are you scared?”
Adrian hesitated.
Then told her the truth.
“Yes.”
Lily looked surprised.
“Daddy gets scared?”
“Sometimes.”
“Of the man?”
“Yes.”
She thought about it.
Then she reached up and touched his cheek.
“You don't have to be scared.”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“Why?”
“Because you're my daddy.”
He couldn't answer.
His eyes burned.
He looked away.
Lily didn't understand why.
She simply leaned against him again.
At dawn, Adrian entered the study.
Vincent was waiting.
“Tell me.”
“We checked every camera around the house.”
“And?”
“No one entered.”
“Then how did he photograph her?”
Vincent placed a tablet on the desk.
“He didn't.”
Adrian looked at him.
“What?”
“The photograph wasn't taken from outside.”
Vincent swiped.
The image appeared.
Lily sleeping.
The angle was wrong.
Adrian leaned closer.
“That's inside the room.”
“Yes.”
Adrian's expression changed.
The camera had been positioned near the bookshelf.
Inside Lily's bedroom.
“How?”
“We searched the room.”
“And?”
Vincent zoomed in.
A tiny black object was visible behind a row of books.
“Camera.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Who installed it?”
“We're checking.”
“When?”
“Can't tell yet.”
Adrian turned toward the window.
Someone had been inside his daughter's bedroom.
Not once.
Perhaps repeatedly.
For how long?
Days?
Weeks?
Months?
His mind raced.
“Find the feed.”
“We're trying.”
“Not trying.”
Adrian's voice became ice.
“Find it.”
Vincent nodded.
A few seconds later, his phone vibrated.
He answered.
“What?”
His face changed.
“Run that again.”
Adrian watched him.
Vincent ended the call.
“What?”
“The camera was active for five months.”
Adrian's stomach dropped.
“Five months.”
“Yes.”
“Who had access?”
Vincent looked at him.
“That's the problem.”
He placed a list on the desk.
Daycare staff.
Maintenance workers.
Delivery drivers.
Security contractors.
Former employees.
Then one name.
Adrian stared at it.
His blood ran cold.
“No.”
Vincent didn't speak.
Adrian picked up the paper.
The name was unmistakable.
MARGARET HALE.
Sarah's mother.
Lily's grandmother.
Adrian looked up.
“Why does she have access?”
Vincent swallowed.
“Because Sarah trusted her.”
Adrian stared at the name.
“Where is she?”
“That's the other problem.”
“What?”
“She disappeared yesterday.”
Silence.
Adrian looked toward the door.
“Find her.”
Margaret Hale wasn't answering her phone.
Her apartment was empty.
No signs of forced entry.
No struggle.
No blood.
No broken furniture.
Nothing.
Except a single envelope sitting on the kitchen table.
Adrian opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
Not Lily.
Not Sarah.
Marco Moretti.
His father.
Standing beside Daniel Cross.
Adrian turned it over.
Another message.
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHAT HAPPENED IN 1998.
Adrian stared at it.
His father had died nine years ago.
His mother had died when Adrian was seventeen.
Adrian did the math.
He had been six.
The same age Lily was now.
A cold sensation crawled up his spine.
Six.
His daughter's age.
His own age when whatever happened had begun.
He looked at Vincent.
“What happened in 1998?”
Vincent shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Then we're going to find someone who does.”
The answer came from a place Adrian hadn't visited in years.
His father's old office.
The building had been abandoned after Marco's death.
No one used it anymore.
But Adrian still had a key.
He unlocked the door himself.
Dust covered everything.
The desk remained exactly where his father had left it.
Old files.
A broken lamp.
A dead telephone.
Adrian walked toward the desk.
He opened the top drawer.
Empty.
Second drawer.
Empty.
Third.
Locked.
He stared at it.
His father had always kept the most important things in locked drawers.
Adrian pulled out his pocket knife.
Vincent watched.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
The lock broke with one sharp twist.
The drawer opened.
Inside was a stack of papers.
A passport.
A small cassette tape.
And one photograph.
Adrian picked up the photograph.
His breath caught.
It was his father.
Holding a baby.
A newborn.
Adrian stared.
“That's you.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“No.”
Adrian shook his head.
“That isn't me.”
Vincent looked confused.
“Then who is it?”
Adrian turned the photograph over.
His father's handwriting was unmistakable.
LILY — THREE DAYS OLD.
Adrian's blood went cold.
He stared at the photograph.
Lily.
His daughter.
Three days old.
But the photograph was dated six years ago.
And Marco had died nine years ago.
Impossible.
Adrian's mind refused to process it.
Then he noticed the woman standing beside his father.
Sarah.
Younger.
Terrified.
Holding another child.
A baby girl.
Not Lily.
Adrian's breathing stopped.
“Vincent.”
Vincent looked at him.
“There's another child.”
The room became silent.
Adrian turned the photograph over again.
A second line had been written beneath the first.
ONE DAUGHTER WILL CARRY THE BLOOD.
Then beneath it:
THE OTHER WILL CARRY THE SECRET.
Adrian stared.
“What does that mean?”
Vincent didn't answer.
Adrian reached for the cassette tape.
“What is this?”
There was no label.
Only one word written across it.
1998.
They found an old cassette player in the bottom cabinet.
Vincent inserted the tape.
Static filled the room.
Then a voice.
Marco Moretti.
Adrian hadn't heard his father's voice in nine years.
His entire body went rigid.
The recording began.
“If you're hearing this, Adrian, then something has gone wrong.”
Adrian stared at the machine.
His father's voice continued.
“You were never supposed to find this.”
Static.
A pause.
Then:
“Your mother knows the truth.”
Adrian's face went pale.
“She knows about the girls.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Girls?”
Marco continued.
“One of them is mine.”
A breath.
“The other…”
The tape crackled.
“…is yours.”
Adrian froze.
The room seemed to stop.
His father's voice continued.
“If Daniel Cross ever returns, do not trust him.”
Static.
“Because the man who claims to protect your family…”
A long pause.
“…is the man who destroyed it.”
The recording ended.
Adrian stood motionless.
Vincent stared at him.
Neither spoke.
Finally Adrian whispered:
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
“He knew about Lily.”
“Yes.”
“And another girl.”
“Yes.”
Adrian looked down at the photograph.
Sarah.
Two babies.
Two daughters.
One secret.
One bloodline.
One missing piece.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Adrian answered.
No greeting.
A woman's voice came through.
Terrified.
“Adrian?”
He recognized it immediately.
“Margaret?”
Silence.
Then:
“You found the drawer.”
Adrian's eyes hardened.
“Where are you?”
“I don't have much time.”
“What happened?”
“I was wrong.”
“About what?”
A trembling breath.
“About keeping Lily away from you.”
Adrian's expression changed.
“Margaret, tell me where you are.”
“You need to listen.”
“Where are you?”
“I should have told Sarah years ago.”
“Tell me now.”
Her voice broke.
“Lily isn't the only child.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“No.”
Margaret's voice became desperate.
“You don't understand.”
“What don't I understand?”
“The other girl is alive.”
Adrian's eyes snapped open.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Who is she?”
Silence.
Then Margaret whispered:
“She has your mother's eyes.”
The line went dead.
Adrian stared at the phone.
Vincent stepped closer.
“What did she say?”
Adrian slowly lowered the phone.
“She said the other girl is alive.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“Who is she?”
Adrian looked down at the photograph.
Two babies.
One in Sarah's arms.
One in Marco's.
His father's handwriting.
One daughter will carry the blood.
The other will carry the secret.
Then Adrian noticed something he'd missed.
A tiny bracelet around the second baby's wrist.
Engraved with a single letter.
A.
Adrian's breath caught.
Not Lily.
Not Sarah.
Not Marco.
A.
Adrian looked at Vincent.
“Find every record of a baby girl connected to my family in 1998.”
Vincent nodded.
“And Vincent?”
“Yes?”
“Don't tell anyone.”
“Not even Sarah?”
Adrian stared at the photograph.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone has spent twenty-eight years hiding this…”
His voice became cold.
“…I want to know who they were hiding her from.”
Outside, dawn finally broke over Manhattan.
But Adrian Moretti didn't see the sunlight.
He saw only the two babies in the photograph.
His daughter.
And another girl who had been erased from his family's history.
Somewhere in the city, a secret that had survived for twenty-eight years was beginning to surface.
May you like
And Adrian was about to discover that the greatest threat to Lily might not be the man with the scar.
It might be the truth about the family she was born into.
