Chapter 5 - THE LOCKET OF TRUTH
Arthur left the holding room, leaving Cassandra sobbing in the dark. He walked back up the spiraling staircase, feeling as though the gravity of the world had doubled. He had his confession. He had the proof. But his mind was consumed by the little girl resting in the medical wing.
When he returned to her room, Mia was sitting up, looking at a large picture book one of the maids had brought her. She looked up at him cautiously as he entered.
"Are the bad people gone?" she asked quietly.
"They are locked away, Mia. They will never, ever hurt you or anyone else again," Arthur promised, sitting on the edge of her bed. He took a deep breath. "Mia, I need to ask you a question. A very important one. Do you have anything from your parents? A blanket, a letter... anything?"
Mia looked down, her small fingers playing with the edge of the blanket. Slowly, she reached down the neckline of her oversized robe and pulled out a tarnished, dirty chain. Hanging from the end of it was a heavy gold locket. It was scuffed and dented, clearly having survived years of harsh street life.
"The lady at the orphanage said this was around my neck when I was dropped off," Mia whispered. "She tried to take it from me once to sell it, but I bit her hand and ran away. I never let anyone take it."
Arthur’s breath hitched in his throat. He recognized the chain. He reached out with trembling hands, and Mia, trusting the man who had protected her, leaned forward to let him unclasp it. Arthur held the locket in his massive palm. With a press of his thumb, the clasp popped open.
Inside, on the left, was a tiny, perfectly preserved photograph of Eleanor, smiling brightly, the wind catching her hair. On the right was an inscription, engraved in elegant script: To my little Mia. You are my greatest masterpiece. Love, Mama.
A single tear broke free from Arthur’s eye and rolled down his weathered cheek. He pulled the little girl into a desperate, crushing embrace. He buried his face in her hair, the great, fearsome billionaire breaking down into silent, heaving sobs.
"You are my granddaughter," Arthur whispered fiercely into the quiet room. "You are my blood. You are my Eleanor’s little girl."
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Mia stiffened in surprise, but as the warmth of Arthur’s embrace enveloped her—a warmth she had never known in her entire life—she slowly relaxed. Her small, thin arms wrapped around his broad back. "Are you my grandpa?" she asked, her voice trembling with a fragile, beautiful hope.
"Yes," Arthur choked out. "Yes, I am. And I promise you, Mia. I will burn the world down before I let anyone hurt you again."
