Chapter 2: Splinters of the Past
The Lancaster estate was less of a home and more of a gilded fortress. Perched high on the cliffs overlooking the ocean, its glass and steel architecture felt cold, sterile, and entirely devoid of life.
Eva sat in her room, the wooden music box Daniel had given her sitting on her glass desk. She hadn't wound it again. She was too afraid of the emotions it stirred up—and too terrified of the questions it raised.
Her father, Richard Lancaster, had still not returned. His study remained locked, guarded by biometric scanners.
Determined to find answers, Eva wheeled herself down the long, carpeted hallway. At twenty-two, she had been treated like a fragile doll for four years. But the text message had awakened something fierce inside her.
Why your legs were truly broken.
The official police report of her accident had been simple: a drunk driver, a stolen pickup truck, a tragic running of a red light. The driver had died at the scene. Case closed.
Eva reached her father’s study. To her surprise, the heavy mahogany door was slightly ajar. Inside, she could hear her father's voice, tense and strained, speaking to someone on a secure line.
"I don't care what it costs, Julian!" Richard snapped. "Keep the press away from the shipyard. If anyone connects the warehouse fire to the old cargo manifests, the entire board will collapse."
There was a pause.
"And what about my daughter?" Richard’s voice cracked, a rare show of vulnerability from the ruthless titan. "She was at the bakery today. My security team spotted Daniel Thorne. He’s back, Julian. He’s near her."
Eva held her breath, her fingers gripping the armrests of her wheelchair so hard her knuckles turned white.
Daniel Thorne. That was Daniel's full name.
"If Thorne tells her the truth about what happened four years ago," Richard whispered, "she will hate me forever. I paid him off to disappear. Why is he back?"
Eva felt the world tilt on its axis.
Paid him off? What truth?
Before she could process the shock, her father’s voice hardened again. "If Daniel Thorne tries to contact Eva again, terminate his lease on the docks. Burn his workshop to the ground if you have to. He is not allowed to ruin what's left of my family."
Tears of anger and confusion stung Eva’s eyes. She backed away from the door as quietly as possible, her mind racing. Her father wasn't just distant; he was hiding a massive, dark secret. And somehow, Daniel—the gentle father who took his daughter to a bakery to honor his dead wife—was at the very center of it.
The next morning, Eva did something she hadn't done since her accident. She ordered her private van, bypassed her usual security detail by telling them she was visiting a private physical therapy clinic, and gave her driver a different address: the shipyard docks.
The wind off the bay was cold and carried the scent of salt and rotting wood. Daniel’s workshop was a weathered, corrugated metal building at the far end of the pier.
When Eva’s driver rolled her ramp down, she insisted on going in alone.
The heavy sliding door of the workshop was partially open. Inside, the rhythmic shhh-shhh of a hand plane against wood echoed through the rafters.
"Daniel?" Eva called out.
The sanding stopped. Daniel emerged from behind a half-finished dining table, wiping his hands on a rag. When he saw her, his eyes widened in genuine surprise, followed quickly by deep concern.
"Eva? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"
"Who are you, Daniel?" Eva asked, her voice trembling but resolute. "And why did my father pay you to stay away from me?"
Daniel froze. The rag in his hand slipped to the floor. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a guarded, ancient pain.
"You shouldn't have come here, Eva," he said quietly.
"I received a text message yesterday telling me my accident wasn't an accident," Eva pressed on, rolling closer to him, her eyes fierce. "And I heard my father say your name. He said he paid you off. He threatened to burn this place down if you came near me. I want the truth. Did you have something to do with the crash that paralyzed me?"
Daniel let out a long, ragged breath. He walked over to a small desk in the corner, picked up a framed photograph, and brought it over to her.
It was a picture of a beautiful woman with laugh lines around her eyes, holding a baby Lily. Around her neck was a distinct, silver pendant shaped like a double-helix—the exact corporate emblem of Lancaster Industries' pharmaceutical division.
"This was my wife, Sarah," Daniel said, his voice cracking. "She wasn't just a scientist, Eva. She was the head of quality control for your father's biomedical branch. Four years ago, she discovered that a batch of experimental nerve-regeneration drugs had devastating, untested side effects. But the launch was worth billions. She was going to blow the whistle."
Eva’s heart stopped. "No..."
"She was scheduled to meet a federal investigator on the night of October twelfth," Daniel continued, his eyes burning with a mixture of grief and fury. "She took our car. But she never made it to the meeting. A stolen truck ran her off the road."
Eva gasped. "October twelfth... that was the night of my accident."
"It wasn't two separate accidents, Eva," Daniel said, kneeling down so he was at eye level with her. "Your father was hosting a gala that night. You left early because you forgot some textbooks. Your car and Sarah’s car were on the exact same stretch of highway when the truck struck. Sarah died instantly. You survived, but you were paralyzed."
He reached out, his hand hovering over hers but not quite touching.
"Your father didn't order the hit on Sarah—his rogue board members did to protect their investments. But Richard covered it up to protect the company name. He made sure the police classified it as a simple drunk driving accident. And then, he offered me ten million dollars to take Lily and leave the state."
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"Did you take it?" Eva whispered, terrified of the answer.
Daniel looked her straight in the eyes. "I took every single penny."
