Chapter 6 - THE SISTER WHO NEVER DIEDI stared at Lily.
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what she had said.
A sister?
I had a sister?
My father had spent eighteen years telling me that my mother was dead and I was his only child.
He had never mentioned another daughter.
Not once.
"You're mistaken," I whispered.
Lily shook her head.
"I'm not."
Nico looked between us.
"Explain."
Lily wiped her cheek.
"Your mother gave birth to a little girl seven months before the fire."
My knees weakened.
Nico pulled out a chair.
I sat mechanically.
"Her name was Emma," Lily continued.
I stared at her.
"Emma?"
"Yes."
A tiny memory stirred.
My mother sitting beside a white crib.
A soft pink blanket.
A baby with dark curls.
A song.
I remembered a lullaby.
But my father had told me the memory was a dream.
He said I'd never had a sibling.
"Why can't I remember her?" I whispered.
Lily knelt beside me.
"You were only eight. You went through something terrible afterward."
I pressed my fingers against my temples.
"Where is she?"
Lily hesitated.
"That's what I've been trying to find out."
Nico's expression hardened.
"What do you know?"
"After the fire, Edmund told everyone the baby had died with Evelyn."
I looked up.
"But she didn't?"
"No. I saw someone carry her away."
"Who?"
Lily swallowed.
"Victor Santoro."
The room seemed to spin.
I gripped the armrests.
"Where did he take her?"
"I don't know. I was badly injured. Matteo helped me get out through an old drainage opening that wasn't marked on the newer plans. Then Santoro's men caught him."
Nico stared at her.
"You saw Matteo after the fire?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me that immediately?"
Lily lowered her head.
"Because I wasn't sure you'd believe me."
Nico walked away.
His hands shook.
He looked at the city.
Then back at Lily.
"For eighteen years, I buried my little brother in my heart."
His voice broke.
"And now you're telling me he was alive, rescuing children, while I was standing outside believing he was dead."
Lily began crying.
"I'm sorry."
Nico shook his head.
"No. This isn't your fault."
He looked at me.
"And neither is any of this yours."
I wanted to believe him.
But one thought kept repeating inside my head.
Emma.
My baby sister.
Somewhere, perhaps alive.
Perhaps alone.
Perhaps believing nobody had ever wanted her.
I stood.
"We have to find her."
Nico nodded.
"We will."
"Promise me."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"I promise I'll do everything I can."
It wasn't the impossible promise of a man pretending to control the world.
It was something more meaningful.
A promise to try.
And for the first time, I believed him.
By morning, Isabella had assembled a team of investigators, digital forensic specialists, and attorneys.
Nico arranged for Lily to remain in a protected guest apartment while they verified the information.
I sat in the library with my mother's locket around my neck.
Isabella spread photographs across a large table.
"Here's what we know."
She pointed to an image of Blackthorn House.
"On November 16, eighteen years ago, the estate burned. Officially, three people died: Evelyn Ashford, six-year-old Matteo Ferrara, and an unidentified female infant."
My stomach tightened.
"Emma."
"That's what the records suggest. But the infant's identity was never conclusively established through DNA."
Nico leaned forward.
"Who signed the death certificate?"
Isabella checked her notes.
"Dr. Leonard Price."
Nico's expression changed.
"Price?"
"You know him?" I asked.
"His clinic treated my father."
Isabella nodded.
"He also served on the board of Ashford Medical Investments."
I stared at the name.
"He's still alive?"
"Yes. He retired five years ago. Lives in Connecticut."
Nico looked toward Adrian.
"Find him."
Isabella raised a hand.
"Through legal channels, Nico. We need evidence that survives scrutiny."
Nico looked irritated.
She continued.
"If Ashford is involved in trafficking children and falsifying death records, we need federal investigators. Not a private war that lets him escape accountability."
For a moment, Nico said nothing.
Then he nodded.
"Get the attorneys involved."
I watched him.
He had the resources to make someone disappear.
Everyone knew it.
But he was choosing a different path.
Maybe for my sake.
Maybe for Matteo's.
Maybe because he had finally understood that violence had destroyed enough lives already.
That afternoon, I went to the garden terrace.
It was nearly empty.
The autumn wind rustled the trees planted along the rooftop.
I sat beside a fountain and opened my notebook.
Dr. Brooks had asked me to write down one choice each day.
The first page contained only three words.
I choose pizza.
I smiled faintly.
Then turned to the next page.
I choose to find Emma.
My eyes filled.
I remembered my mother singing.
The tune was suddenly clear.
A soft melody about a little bird finding its way home.
I began humming.
"That's a beautiful song."
I turned.
Nico stood a few feet away.
He wore a dark sweater and jeans.
Without his suit, he looked younger.
Less untouchable.
"Did your mother teach you that?" he asked.
I nodded.
"She used to sing it to Emma."
He sat beside me.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then Nico said, "I owe you an apology."
I looked at him.
"For what?"
"For marrying you under false pretenses. For seeing you as a way to reach your father instead of seeing you as a person."
I stared at the fountain.
He continued.
"I can't change how this began."
"No."
"But I can make sure you have control over what happens next."
I looked up.
"What do you mean?"
He reached into his pocket and placed a folder on the bench.
Inside were legal documents.
I read the first page.
My eyes widened.
"An annulment?"
Nico nodded.
"Our attorneys prepared the paperwork. You don't have to sign anything now. But if you want to end this marriage, I won't stand in your way."
I stared at the documents.
He continued.
"The apartment, your security, medical care, anything you need while we investigate your father—none of that depends on staying married to me."
My throat tightened.
"You're giving me a way out?"
"Yes."
"Even if I leave?"
"Even then."
I looked down at the ring on my finger.
A beautiful diamond.
A symbol of the worst day of my life.
And perhaps the beginning of something I didn't yet understand.
"Why?" I whispered.
Nico looked toward the city.
"Because I promised you wouldn't be a prisoner."
I began crying.
He looked alarmed.
"Did I say something wrong?"
I shook my head.
"No."
I wiped my cheeks.
"Nobody has ever given me the chance to choose."
He held out his hand.
I took it.
Not because he asked.
Because I wanted to.
And the difference felt enormous.
That evening, Isabella called an emergency meeting.
She had located Dr. Leonard Price.
Or rather, she had discovered that he was missing.
"His housekeeper reported him gone yesterday morning," Isabella explained.
Nico frowned.
"When was he last seen?"
"Monday night."
"Any security footage?"
"His cameras were disabled."
I felt a cold sensation in my stomach.
"Does my father know we're looking for him?"
"Possibly."
Isabella opened another file.
"There's something more important."
A scanned birth certificate appeared.
Name: Emma Evelyn Ashford.
Date of birth: April 19.
Mother: Evelyn Claire Ashford.
Father: Edmund Richard Ashford.
My eyes filled.
She was real.
My sister was real.
Isabella opened another document.
"Three weeks after the fire, a child matching Emma's age was entered into a private adoption arrangement."
"Where?" I whispered.
"New Jersey."
Nico leaned forward.
"Who's listed as the adoptive parent?"
Isabella hesitated.
"That's where things become complicated."
She turned the screen.
A photograph appeared.
A distinguished older woman wearing pearls.
Behind her stood a younger man.
Tall.
Dark-haired.
Smiling.
Nico went rigid.
"That can't be right."
I looked at him.
"Who is she?"
He swallowed.
"That's my aunt, Francesca Ferrara."
I stared at the photograph.
"Your aunt adopted my sister?"
"According to the records, yes," Isabella said.
Nico shook his head.
"Francesca died eleven years ago."
"Her adopted daughter was placed under the guardianship of another relative."
"Who?"
Isabella slowly turned the laptop toward us.
Another photograph appeared.
A beautiful young woman with dark curls stood beside an expensive sports car.
She looked about nineteen.
She was smiling.
And around her neck was a silver butterfly necklace.
My heart stopped.
I'd seen her before.
At the wedding.
She had been sitting near the front.
Wearing an ivory dress.
Laughing with my father.
I pointed at the photograph.
"That's her."
Nico's eyes narrowed.
"Who?"
"That girl was at our wedding."
Isabella nodded.
"Her legal name is Sofia Santoro."
Nico stood.
"Santoro?"
"Victor Santoro became her guardian after Francesca died."
I looked between them.
My hands began shaking.
"My sister has been living with the man who helped murder our mother?"
Isabella's expression softened.
"We don't know how much she knows."
I stared at Sofia's photograph.
Dark curls.
Brown eyes.
A smile that reminded me so much of my mother's.
Then I remembered something from the wedding.
While guests were leaving, Sofia had approached me.
She'd looked at my face.
And whispered:
"You have her eyes."
At the time, I thought she meant someone Nico had once loved.
Now I understood.
She had recognized our mother in me.
I grabbed Nico's arm.
"She knows."
He looked at me.
"What?"
"She knows who I am."
Then my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?"
A young woman's voice whispered:
"Nora?"
My heart pounded.
"Who is this?"
A long silence.
Then:
"My name is Sofia."
I closed my eyes.
"Sofia?"
Her voice trembled.
"I know what Victor did to our mother."
Tears spilled down my face.
"Emma?"
She began crying.
"Please don't call me that yet. I don't know who I'm supposed to be anymore."
I sank into a chair.
"Where are you?"
"I'm somewhere safe for now."
"Sofia, please—"
"Listen to me. Victor knows Nico is investigating Blackthorn. Your father has offered him something in exchange for keeping me quiet."
"What?"
Sofia sobbed.
"The original records. The ones Evelyn hid before the fire."
Nico moved closer.
"Ask her where they are," he whispered.
I repeated the question.
Sofia hesitated.
Then said:
"Your mother left them with the only person she trusted."
"Who?"
Sofia took a shaking breath.
"You, Nora."
I froze.
"What?"
"She hid them somewhere you could find when you were old enough."
I stared at the notebook in my lap.
The notebook Dr. Brooks had given me.
Then at the locket around my neck.
Suddenly, I remembered a sentence my mother used to whisper every night.
When you forget where home is, follow the little bird.
My fingers closed around the locket.
"Sofia," I whispered, "I think I know where she hid them."
Before she could answer, a man's voice sounded in the background.
"Who are you talking to?"
Sofia gasped.
Then the phone went dead.
A second later, a message appeared.
May you like
It contained only five words.
HE KNOWS YOU FOUND ME.
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