Chapter 2 - THE GOLD POCKET WATCH

Daniel stared at Emily, the weight of her words crashing into him like a physical blow.

He killed her.

Richard? His own flesh and blood had murdered Rebecca, Emily's caretaker, and left Emily an orphan for a second time? The betrayal tasted like ash in Daniel's mouth.

"We need to leave. Now," Daniel said, slipping the gold pocket watch into his jacket. "If he knows you're here, he'll be back. He won't miss twice."

Thomas flanked them as they hurried through the restaurant's service corridors. The kitchen staff was huddled in the corners, terrified. Daniel shielded Emily from the stares, rushing her into the waiting armored SUV in the underground garage.

As the car sped out into the rainy city streets, Daniel turned to the young woman sitting stiffly beside him. She was clutching her silver tray uniform apron, looking impossibly small against the dark leather seats.

"Emily," Daniel started gently. "I need you to tell me everything about the night Rebecca died."

Emily looked out the tinted window at the passing streetlights. "I was twelve. We were living in a tiny apartment on the East Side. Rebecca always kept the doors triple-locked. She was always… waiting. Like she knew someone was coming."

Daniel’s chest tightened. Rebecca had been his ex-wife’s best friend. She had been a sweet, quiet woman. What had forced her to live a life of terror, raising another man's child in secret?

"That night," Emily continued, her voice hollow, "she told me to hide in the closet. She said an old friend was coming and they needed to talk business. I peeked through the slats. A man in a dark coat walked in. He was holding that gold watch, checking the time. They argued. He demanded something from her. When she said she didn't have it, he… he pushed her. Hard. She hit her head on the iron radiator. He searched the apartment, couldn't find what he wanted, and left her there to bleed out."

Daniel closed his eyes. "And you didn't see his face?"

"Only his profile. And the watch. The police ruled it a tragic accident. A slip and fall. No one listened to a twelve-year-old in the foster system."

"I'm listening to you now," Daniel vowed, leaning forward. "You said he was looking for something. Do you have any idea what it was?"

Emily hesitated. Then, she reached into her pocket.

"Rebecca knew she was in danger," Emily said quietly. "A few days before she died, she made me promise to keep something safe. She sewed it into the lining of an old winter coat. I took the coat with me through four different foster homes. I never told anyone about it."

"Where is the coat?" Daniel asked.

"In my apartment. Five blocks from here."

"Thomas," Daniel barked to the front seat. "Change of plans. Reroute to her address."

Emily’s apartment was a cramped, fourth-floor walk-up in a decaying brick building. Water stains mapped the ceiling, and the single window looked out onto a brick wall. It broke Daniel’s heart to see how his daughter had lived while he resided in a sprawling, empty mansion.

Emily went straight to a small, rickety closet. She pulled out a heavy, moth-eaten wool coat. It was much too big for her.

With trembling fingers, she ripped a loose seam near the hem. From the lining, she pulled out a small, yellowed envelope wrapped in plastic.

She handed it to Daniel.

Daniel carefully unwrapped the plastic. Inside was an old, faded train ticket. The date stamped on it was twenty years ago—the exact night Emily had disappeared from her crib.

But it wasn't a ticket out of the city. It was a ticket to a private, abandoned rail yard on the edge of town.

Daniel flipped the ticket over. Written on the back, in Rebecca's frantic, messy handwriting, were two sentences.

Don't trust Richard. Trust the man with the silver falcon.

Daniel read the words twice. The breath rushed out of his lungs. He stared at the faded ink, his mind spinning, trying to put the pieces together.

"Richard," Emily said softly. "That's your brother. The man with the watch."

"Yes," Daniel said, his voice tight.

"But who is the man with the silver falcon?" she asked.

Daniel didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He slowly lowered the train ticket and stared at his own right hand. Or, rather, at the empty space on his pinky finger.

For ten years, Daniel had worn a custom-made silver ring shaped like a falcon. It was a symbol of his company. But he hadn't worn it in twenty years.

Because on the exact night his daughter was kidnapped, he had gifted that ring to his most loyal employee. The man who had driven his family for years. The man who now ran his entire private security force.

Daniel slowly looked up from the ticket, his eyes locking onto the doorway of the tiny apartment.

Standing there, blocking the exit, was Thomas.