Chapter 1
“Cora. Take me to her.”
For one second, nobody moved.
Then Cora picked up the glass of water.
Camille stepped in front of the backstage door.
“Dominic.”
I looked at her.
Not angry yet.
Something colder.
“Move.”
“It’s part of the tribute.”
Cora shook her head.
“No, sir.”
Her voice trembled.
“She said she was thirsty. Then she asked if her daddy was in the ballroom.”
My heart stopped.
Camille reached for the handle.
I caught her wrist.
“Don’t.”
Her eyes changed.
That was the moment I knew.
Not hoped.
Knew.
I opened the door.
A narrow service corridor waited beyond it.
One dressing room at the end.
Locked.
Cora pointed.
“There.”
I walked toward it.
Every step felt wrong.
Too loud.
Too slow.
For eighteen months I had imagined my daughter beneath black water because there had been no body to bury.
I had learned to live with absence instead of proof.
Now there was a locked door twenty yards from a ballroom filled with flowers bearing her name.
I tried the handle.
Locked.
“Lily?”
Silence.
Then the smallest sound.
A chair scraping.
My breath broke.
“Lily?”
A child’s voice answered.
“Daddy?”
I nearly went through the door.
My bodyguard forced the lock before I could destroy my shoulder.
The door opened.
She stood beside a vanity table wearing an oversized cardigan, both hands wrapped around an empty paper cup.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
For a second neither of us moved.
Then Lily dropped the cup.
I was on my knees before I understood I had crossed the room.
She touched my face.
Not hugged.
Touched.
As if checking whether I was real.
“You came.”
That sentence destroyed me.
I pulled her into my arms.
She began sobbing against my neck.
Behind me, Cora covered her mouth.
Camille remained in the corridor.
Lily saw her over my shoulder.
Her body stiffened.
Then she whispered:
“Aunt Camille said you stopped looking.”
I slowly turned my head.
May you like
Camille stepped backward.
And every ounce of grief I had carried for eighteen months became something else.
