Chapter 3 - THE GHOST IN THE SILVER LOCKET
The silence in the prep room was heavy enough to crush us.
Claudia Whitcomb let out a harsh, dismissive laugh.
"Marcus, don't be ridiculous. This woman is obviously a grifter. She probably heard the music box earlier and coached her brat to sing it."
I felt a hot spike of anger.
I didn't care how much money this woman had.
Nobody called my daughter a brat.
"I have never seen that watch in my life," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "My husband sang that to my belly every night before he passed away. He died in a car accident five months before Lily was born."
Marcus took a step closer to me.
He ignored Claudia completely.
"Did David have a birthmark? On his left shoulder blade. Shaped like a crescent moon?"
My breath caught in my throat.
"Yes."
Marcus squeezed his eyes shut. A single tear escaped, catching the harsh fluorescent light.
"My son didn't die in an accident four years ago," Marcus said softly. "He ran away ten years ago. Because of her."
He pointed a shaking finger at Claudia.
Claudia’s face went entirely pale.
"Marcus, you're having an episode. Let me call security—"
"If you touch them, Claudia, I swear to God I will dismantle your life," Marcus warned.
I was dizzy.
David hadn't been an orphan.
He hadn't been a lonely cashier who worked double shifts to buy me a cheap engagement ring.
He was David Cole. Heir to a billion-dollar empire.
"Why would he lie to me?" I whispered, looking down at Lily.
"Because he was protecting you," Marcus said.
He reached into his pocket and handed me a small, folded piece of paper.
"He sent me this. The day before his car crash. I never understood it until now."
I unfolded the paper.
It was David's handwriting.
If anything happens to me, look in the lining of my blue winter coat. Keep them away from C.
I stared at the note.
The blue coat.
The one hanging in my cramped, freezing apartment closet.
The one I almost sold last week to pay for Lily's dentist appointment.
"I need to go home," I said, grabbing Lily’s hand.
Claudia blocked the door.
"You aren't going anywhere with him," she hissed, staring at my daughter. "I won't let another leech attach itself to this family."
"Move, Claudia," Marcus commanded.
But Claudia wasn't looking at Marcus. She was looking at Bun Bun.
May you like
Her eyes narrowed, recognizing the crooked stitching on the rabbit’s remaining ear.
"Where did you get that toy?" Claudia whispered, her voice suddenly laced with genuine terror.
