Chapter 2 - The Ghost of a Past He Tried to BuryWith fingers that felt uncharacteristically heavy, Edward picked up the envelope. The paper was cheap notebook stock, slightly damp from the winter air, smudged at the corners where small, cold palms had squeezed it for dear life.
Edward Haynes. Apartment 1401. Very Important.
Beneath it, the childish heart pulsed like a silent accusation.
"Where did this come from?" Edward’s voice was a low, dangerous rumble, dropping an octave lower than usual.
"The front desk," Jonah replied, watching his friend closely. "Mr. Alvarez found two little girls in the lobby. Twins. About five or six years old. They asked for the hotel doctor because they knew doctors couldn't ignore an emergency. They said their mother sent them."
"Their mother," Edward repeated, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "What is her name?"
"They didn't give a full name to Alvarez, but the youngest mentioned someone named Clara."
Edward slammed his hand down on the mahogany desk, the sound echoing sharply through the penthouse suite. The blood rushed violently to his ears. Clara.
Ten years. Ten long, agonizing years since he had looked into Clara’s face and accused her of selling out their love for a multi-million-dollar buyout. His board members had staged the documents, forged her signature, and threatened to destroy her family if she didn't vanish. Believing he was protecting her from his ruthless corporate enemies, Edward had let her go without a fight—a coward wrapped in a billionaire's armor.
He ripped the envelope open. A single sheet of lined paper fell out, covered in messy, sprawling adult handwriting—Clara's handwriting, though shaky, as if written by someone whose hands no longer obeyed her completely.
Edward,
If you are reading this, it means I didn't make it to tomorrow. The doctors at St. Jude’s were wrong about how much time I had left. I have protected our secret for five years, keeping them hidden in a tiny apartment above a bakery, hoping you would never find us and drag them into your world of wolves.
But a mother cannot leave her lambs in a storm.
Their names are Emily and Sophie. They have your eyes, Edward—stubborn, unyielding, and entirely too bright for a dark world. They are your daughters. Take them in. Protect them from the people who destroyed us.
Don't let them grow up the way I did: invisible.
Clara.
The paper fluttered from Edward’s fingers, drifting slowly down to the floor. The billionaire, a man who routinely crushed corporate adversaries with a single phone call, swayed on his feet.
"Jonah," Edward whispered, his voice cracking violently. "They're downstairs?"
May you like
"Yes."
Edward didn't wait for the elevator. He bolted for the private staircase, tearing open the heavy fire door and taking the steps three at a time, driven by a terrifying, burning panic he had never known existed.
