Chapter 5: The Daughter in the Christmas Photograph
By six the following morning, I had made a decision.
I was going to London.
David insisted on accompanying me.
Nia refused to stay behind.
“I've already lost three years,” she said, standing beside the bedroom door with a small overnight bag.
“You need rest.””
“I need my children.””
I looked at her.
There was no point arguing.
At 7:20 a.m., we boarded my private jet.
During the flight, Nia sat beside the window, holding the photograph of Lily.
She hadn't eaten anything.
Every few minutes, she studied the little girl's face.
“Do you think she knows about me?”” she asked.
“I don't know.””
“What if she thinks Claire is her mother?””
I took her hand.
“Then we'll give her time.””
Nia looked down.
“What if she doesn't want me?””
I couldn't answer immediately.
I had spent years imagining what fatherhood might look like.
I had imagined teaching a little boy to ride a bicycle.
I had imagined buying a pink dress for a little girl.
I had imagined coming home to toys scattered across the living room.
Instead, I was sitting on an airplane with a woman I had buried and photographs of children I had never met.
“Then we'll keep showing her we're here,” I finally said.
Nia rested her head against my shoulder.
“I used to talk to them,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“When?””
“After I woke up in the clinic. I didn't know whether they were alive, but I used to put my hands on my stomach and talk to them.””
Her voice broke.
“I told them their daddy would come. I promised them.””
I closed my eyes.
I wanted to apologize for every day I had spent believing my mother.
But an apology couldn't return four years.
At 9:40 a.m., we landed in London.
Victoria was waiting near the private terminal.
She wore a dark coat and sunglasses. Her hair was shorter than I remembered.
When she saw Nia, she stopped walking.
“Nia.””
Nia didn't move.
Victoria approached carefully.
“I'm sorry.””
Nia stared at her.
“You watched me disappear.””
“I was twenty-three. Mom controlled everything. She threatened to have me declared mentally unstable if I spoke.””
“You could have found me.””
“I tried.””
“When?””
Victoria took a small envelope from her coat.
“Two years ago. I hired someone to locate you. But Mom discovered it before I could reach you.””
Nia looked away.
Victoria handed me the envelope.
Inside were photographs of bank transfers, medical invoices, and two birth certificates.
David examined them.
“These are original copies?””
“Photographs of originals,” Victoria replied.
“The originals are still in the estate.””
“Where did you get access?””
“My father's study.””
I looked at her.
“Why were you in there?””
Victoria hesitated.
“Because Mom asked me to destroy something.””
“What?””
“A box of letters.””
“Whose letters?””
She looked at Nia.
“Yours.””
Nia frowned.
“My letters?””
Victoria nodded.
“Mom kept every letter you sent Marcus. She never delivered a single one.””
My chest tightened.
“How many?””
“Twenty-seven.””
I stared at her.
Twenty-seven attempts to reach me.
Twenty-seven times Nia had believed I might finally answer.
“Where are they now?””
“Locked in the study. I photographed some of them before Mom discovered what I was doing.””
Victoria pulled out her phone.
She opened a folder and showed me a photograph of an envelope.
My name was written across the front.
The date was two months after Nia's supposed death.
I opened the digital photograph.
Inside the letter, Nia had written:
*Marcus, I don't know what they've told you. I'm alive. Our son is alive.
I don't know where they took him. Please come for us.*
I couldn't breathe.
The letter ended with a sentence that made my eyes burn.
I still sleep on your side of the bed when I can find somewhere safe enough to close my eyes.
I handed the phone back.
“Take us to the storage facility.””
Victoria nodded.
The facility was in an industrial area outside central London.
She led us to a small unit at the back of the building.
Inside were three boxes, a laptop, and several folders.
David opened the first box.
It contained financial records.
The second held medical documents.
The third contained photographs.
Hundreds of them.
Nia began searching through the photographs with trembling hands.
Then she stopped.
A photograph showed a baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket.
On the back was written:
Baby Whitmore — October 18.
Nia pressed the photograph against her chest.
“That's my daughter.””
David continued examining the records.
“Marcus, look at this.””
He showed me a bank statement.
A monthly payment of $18,000 had been transferred to Claire Whitmore.
The reference line read:
Child maintenance — Lily Carter.
I frowned.
“Why would my company pay for my daughter?””
David studied the account details.
“It didn't. The money came from your father's private trust.””
“Who authorized it?””
“Richard Hayes.””
Victoria nodded.
“Mom told him to manage the arrangements.””
I picked up another document.
It was an adoption application.
The biological mother was listed as deceased.
The biological father was listed as unknown.
The child had been given a new surname.
Whitmore.
Nia stared at it.
“They erased me.””
David shook his head.
“This isn't a valid adoption order. It's an application with falsified supporting documents.””
“So Lily isn't legally adopted?””
“Not according to this.””
I felt a surge of hope.
“Then we can get her back.””
David raised a hand.
“Carefully. We need a court order and immediate child-protection intervention. We cannot simply take her.””
I nodded.
I didn't want my daughter frightened or caught in the middle of another adult's battle.
Victoria opened her laptop.
“There's something else you need to see.””
She played a video.
The recording showed Eleanor sitting in my father's study.
Richard stood beside her.
On the desk was a photograph of Nia.
Richard spoke first.
“Marcus will eventually discover the truth.””
My mother poured herself a drink.
“Then we'll give him another truth to believe.””
“What about the children?””
“Daniel stays with me. Lily goes to Claire.””
“And Nia?””
My mother looked directly at the camera.
“By the time anyone finds her, she'll have disappeared again.””
The video ended.
Nia covered her mouth.
I replayed the last few seconds.
“By the time anyone finds her…”
Victoria nodded.
“That's why I think the accident wasn't meant to kill her.””
I turned.
“What?””
“Mom needed Nia gone. She needed the children separated. But she also needed Nia alive long enough to sign certain documents.””
David looked up.
“What documents?””
Victoria opened another folder.
A document appeared on the screen.
It was a parental rights agreement.
Nia's signature was at the bottom.
But the date was impossible.
It had been signed three days after the accident, when Nia was supposedly unconscious.
Nia stared at it.
“I never signed that.””
David examined the signature.
“It's forged.””
I felt my hands curl into fists.
Then another file appeared.
A scanned email from Richard Hayes.
The subject line read:
*FINAL ARRANGEMENTS — CARTER CHILDREN.*
I opened it.
There was only one paragraph.
The boy will remain under Eleanor's care. The girl will remain with Claire. The mother must never be allowed to establish contact with either child. If she becomes a problem, use the original contingency.
I read the last sentence again.
“What is the original contingency?””
Victoria looked frightened.
“I don't know.””
Then David noticed something at the bottom of the email.
A signature.
Not Richard's.
Not my mother's.
It belonged to someone named Thomas Reed.
I knew that name.
Thomas Reed was the driver of the delivery truck that had supposedly collided with Nia's car.
According to the accident report, he had died two weeks after the crash.
But beneath his name was a current address.
And a phone number.
David looked at me.
“Marcus, this man may still be alive.””
Before I could respond, Victoria's phone rang.
She answered.
“Hello?””
Her face changed.
“What?””
She looked at me.
“Where?””
She ended the call.
“What happened?”” I asked.
“Claire knows we're investigating.””
“How?””
Victoria swallowed.
“Someone sent her the video.””
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph of Nia leaving the airport.
The message beneath it read:
*YOU FOUND THE WRONG CHILD FIRST.*
May you like
Then another message arrived.
*COME TO THE HOUSE IF YOU WANT TO SEE YOUR DAUGHTER. COME ALONE.*
