Chapter 6: The Secret Inside the Music Box
Jonathan survived the shooting.
By dawn, he lay in a private hospital room guarded by two armed security officers. The bullet had passed through his shoulder, missing the major arteries, but the surgeon warned Damien that the next twenty-four hours would be critical.
Damien stood beside the bed, his coat stained with his uncle's blood.
Jonathan's eyes fluttered open.
"Did you get the recorder?""
Damien held it up.
"Yes.""
"Good.""
"Who shot you?""
Jonathan tried to sit up and winced.
"Don't know his name. Richard called him Mercer.""
Damien immediately recognized the surname.
"Edward Mercer? The private investigator?""
Jonathan stared at him.
"You know him?""
"He's been working for the family trust since before I took over the company.""
"Then you need to find out who has been paying him.""
Damien's phone rang.
Marcus.
"Sir, the security footage from the pier shows a man leaving in a black sedan. We haven't identified him yet, but the vehicle is registered to a private security company owned by Sterling Holdings.""
Damien closed his eyes.
Victoria's family.
Again.
"Find the company's ownership records. Quietly.""
"Already working on it.""
"And Marcus?""
"Yes?""
"Nobody gets near Jonathan without my approval.""
He ended the call.
Jonathan watched him with a weary expression.
"You're beginning to sound like your father.""
Damien stiffened.
"Don't compare me to him.""
"I'm not talking about his cruelty. I'm talking about the way he protected the family by controlling everything around him.""
"That didn't protect anyone. It destroyed Elena.""
Jonathan looked away.
"You're right.""
The admission surprised Damien.
For years, he had imagined his uncle as a selfish man who had abandoned his family to save himself. Now Jonathan lay wounded in a hospital bed, carrying secrets that might finally explain the nightmare that had consumed Elena's life.
But Damien wasn't ready to forgive him.
"Tell me about the recorder," he said.
Jonathan nodded toward it.
"Elena said it contained the first piece of evidence. She told me there were more.""
"Where?""
"She mentioned a music box.""
Damien frowned.
"What music box?""
"The one you gave her.""
He stopped breathing.
Seven years earlier, he had bought Elena a small wooden music box for her twenty-second birthday. It played a delicate version of a song her mother used to sing to her.
She had cried when she opened it.
He had never understood why.
"She kept it?"" he asked.
Jonathan nodded.
"She said it was the only thing she had left from you.""
Damien turned away, pressing his fingers against his eyes.
He had spent seven years believing Elena had taken money to disappear.
Meanwhile, she had kept a cheap wooden music box while raising two children without him.
"Where is it now?""
Jonathan shook his head.
"I don't know. But she told me if anything happened to her, I should make sure you found it.""
Damien straightened.
"Then we'll find it.""
At eight that morning, Damien arrived at Elena's former apartment with Marcus and two security officers.
The building stood on a narrow street in Queens, its brick facade stained by decades of rain. A handwritten notice on the entrance announced that the property had been sold and all remaining belongings would be removed by noon.
Damien stared at the notice.
"Who bought this building?""
Marcus checked his tablet.
"A shell company registered in Delaware. It acquired the property twelve days before Elena died.""
"Who owns the shell company?""
"We're tracing it.""
Damien's jaw tightened.
"Someone knew she was dying.""
The building manager met them in the lobby, a heavyset man with a silver mustache and a cigarette tucked behind one ear.
"You're too late," he said.
"Everything in apartment 3B has been cleared out.""
Damien stepped closer.
"By whom?""
"People from the new owner. They came three weeks ago. Said the apartment had to be emptied before the renovation.""
"Did they remove a wooden music box?""
The manager frowned.
"How should I know?""
"Because I'm asking you a question.""
The man crossed his arms.
"Look, buddy, I don't know who you think you are, but I don't need trouble.""
Marcus quietly displayed Damien's business card.
The manager's face changed.
"Mr. Cross. I didn't know.""
"Now you do. Tell me what happened.""
The manager glanced toward the stairs.
"There was a woman who came here the night before the movers. She said she was Elena's friend. She took a small box from the apartment.""
"Describe her.""
"Blonde hair. Expensive coat. Maybe forty years old.""
Damien exchanged a look with Marcus.
"Did she give you a name?""
The manager hesitated.
"She said she was from the hospital.""
"What hospital?""
"St. Vincent's.""
Damien knew the name. Elena had completed part of her medical training there before her license was suspended.
"Did she leave a forwarding address?""
"No. But she dropped something near the mailbox.""
The manager disappeared into his office and returned with a small plastic bag.
Inside was a folded receipt.
Damien opened it.
The receipt was from a storage facility in Long Island City. The locker number had been written in blue ink across the bottom.
*Locker 417.*
Marcus took a photograph of the receipt.
"I'll arrange access.""
"No," Damien said.
"We're going now.""
The storage facility was nearly empty when they arrived.
Locker 417 stood at the end of a dim corridor that smelled of dust and damp cardboard. Damien inserted the key supplied by the facility manager and pulled the metal door upward.
Inside sat three boxes, a suitcase, and a small wooden music box.
Damien forgot how to move.
The music box was exactly as he remembered it. Dark walnut wood. A tiny silver clasp. A faint scratch along the lid where he had accidentally dropped it while wrapping Elena's birthday present.
He picked it up carefully.
For a moment, he was twenty-three again, sitting beside Elena on the floor of her apartment while she laughed and told him he had terrible taste in gifts.
He opened the lid.
The familiar melody began to play.
Beneath the velvet lining, something clicked.
Damien stopped the music and turned the box over. A small panel had been fitted into the underside. He pressed against the edge, and it sprang open.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper and a tiny flash drive.
He unfolded the paper.
Damien,
If you are reading this, then Lily found you, and I was unable to tell you the truth myself.
I need you to understand something before you judge me.
I never stopped loving you.
His vision blurred.
He continued.
The day I discovered I was pregnant, I went to your father's house. I thought he would be angry, but I believed he would eventually accept our child.
Instead, he showed me a document bearing your signature. It said you had agreed to transfer custody of any child born to me to the Cross family.
Damien's fingers tightened around the paper.
"What?"" Marcus whispered.
Damien shook his head, unable to speak.
I knew the signature was yours because I had watched you sign hundreds of documents. But I also knew you would never willingly give away your child.
I left because I was afraid. I stayed away because I believed I was protecting you.
Years later, I discovered that the document was forged. I also discovered that Richard had been paying someone to monitor me.
The flash drive contains the proof.
Please don't trust anyone who tells you this was only about money. Your father wasn't protecting the family name. He was hiding something far more dangerous.
Damien stared at the final line.
Ask what happened the night Jonathan died.
He looked up.
"Marcus, get this drive to a forensic specialist. No one else touches it.""
Marcus nodded and carefully secured the device.
Damien searched the remaining boxes. There were old photographs, medical records, and a stack of letters tied with blue ribbon.
Then he found an envelope addressed to Lily.
He opened it with trembling hands.
My darling girl,
If you are old enough to read this, then I hope you are safe with your father.
There is something I need you to know about the night you were born.
The man who held you first was not Damien.
Damien's heart stopped.
He read the sentence again.
The man who held you first was not Damien.
Beneath it, Elena had written a name.
*Richard Cross.*
Damien stared at the page, struggling to understand.
His father had been present when Lily was born.
That was impossible. Elena had never told him she was in labor. Richard had supposedly been overseas during that period.
Unless the entire timeline had been fabricated.
His phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered immediately.
"Who is this?""
A woman's frightened voice came through the speaker.
"Mr. Cross? My name is Dr. Hannah Price.
I was a nurse at St. Vincent's seven years ago. I helped deliver Elena Bennett's baby.""
Damien gripped the phone.
"What do you know?""
"I've been trying to contact you for years. I was afraid of what would happen if I spoke.""
"Tell me now.""
The woman took a shaky breath.
"Your father was at the hospital that night. He ordered the staff to keep you away from Elena's room.""
Damien's blood ran cold.
"Why?""
"Because Elena didn't give birth to one baby.""
Silence swallowed the line.
Damien stared at the letter in his hand.
"What are you saying?""
Dr. Price began to cry.
"She gave birth to twins, Mr. Cross.""
Damien's knees nearly buckled.
"Twins?""
"Yes. Two baby girls.""
He looked at the letter again.
Lily. Rose.
Two daughters.
May you like
But Elena had written only one final sentence beneath the name Richard Cross.
*He took the other baby.*
