Chapter 3 - THE LETTER BEHIND THE PHOTOGRAPH
I had never been more frightened in my life.
Julian stood in the doorway of the nursery, blocking my only obvious exit.
Behind him, the hallway stretched into darkness.
In front of me lay fourteen years of dust, a dead little girl's belongings, and a letter I knew I wasn't supposed to see.
Leo stirred in his stroller.
Julian glanced at him.
"Interesting place to bring a baby."
"I was looking for a quiet room," I replied.
He looked at the envelope.
"And you happened to find my uncle's private correspondence?"
I forced myself not to look away.
"The photograph had fallen crooked. I noticed something behind it."
"Give it to me."
I hesitated.
Julian smiled without warmth.
"That wasn't a request."
I handed him the envelope.
He inspected the front.
For one brief moment, his expression changed.
I saw fear.
Not irritation.
Not anger.
Fear.
Then he tucked the letter into his jacket.
"You're finished here."
"I didn't know this room was forbidden."
"It's been locked for fourteen years."
"Rosa gave me a key."
His eyes hardened.
"Then Rosa and I are going to have a conversation."
I immediately regretted mentioning her.
Julian stepped aside.
"Take your son and go downstairs."
I moved past him, gripping the stroller so tightly my fingers hurt.
At the staircase, he called after me.
"Mariana?"
I stopped.
"My uncle had a daughter once. She died because someone failed to protect her."
I turned around.
He was standing beneath the nursery light.
"People who get involved in things they don't understand sometimes hurt the ones they love."
The warning was unmistakable.
I said nothing.
I took Leo downstairs.
Only when we reached the service quarters did I allow myself to breathe.
Rosa was waiting.
"What happened?"
"Julian caught me."
She closed her eyes.
"Oh, sweetheart."
"I had to give him the letter."
"Did you read it?"
"Not all of it."
I reached into the pocket of my sweater.
"But I photographed every page before he arrived."
Rosa stared.
For the first time that night, she smiled.
"You are smarter than he thinks."
I opened the photographs on my phone.
The letter was written on Sterling Global letterhead, dated June 14, fourteen years earlier.
Dear Evelyn,
If you're reading this, it means the truth I tried to bury has finally found its way back to us.
I owe you an apology for what happened after Lily's accident.
You were right about Daniel.
You were right about the harbor.
And if anything ever happens to me, please don't let Julian gain control of the company without examining North Harbor Holdings.
I felt a strange pressure in my chest.
The letter continued.
There are records I haven't had the courage to release. They would destroy our family, but keeping them hidden may destroy innocent people.
The access key is where Lily kept her stars.
Please forgive me.
Grant.
I read the final sentence twice.
"The access key is where Lily kept her stars."
Rosa frowned.
"Lily loved astronomy. Mr. Sterling used to take her outside to watch meteor showers."
"Did she have a telescope?"
"Yes. A little pink one."
"Was it in the nursery?"
Rosa thought for a moment.
"No. I believe her father kept it in his study after she died."
I looked toward the ceiling.
Grant's private study was on the second floor.
And Julian used it as his office.
"We need Evelyn," I said.
Rosa nodded.
"But how?"
I searched Grant's old correspondence.
Evelyn Sterling had once operated a nonprofit legal clinic in San Diego. After several minutes, I found a current website for an organization called Harbor Light Justice Foundation.
The founder was Evelyn Sterling.
The photograph showed a woman in her early fifties with clear gray eyes and a serious expression.
Beneath it was a public office telephone number.
I called.
A receptionist answered.
"Harbor Light Justice Foundation."
"May I speak with Ms. Sterling?"
"May I ask who's calling?"
"My name is Mariana Cruz. I'm calling about her brother."
There was a pause.
"I'm sorry. Ms. Sterling doesn't discuss family matters through this office."
"Please tell her Grant is alive."
The receptionist sounded confused.
"Ma'am, we know Mr. Sterling is seriously ill."
"No. I mean he's conscious. He can hear us. He's trying to communicate."
Silence.
Then the woman said, "Please hold."
Two minutes passed.
My heart hammered.
Finally, another voice came on the line.
Low.
Controlled.
"What did you say about my brother?"
"Evelyn?"
"Who is this?"
I explained as quickly as I could.
Grant's condition.
The medication.
His whispered warning.
The letter in Lily's nursery.
At first, Evelyn said nothing.
Then she asked a question.
"What was my niece's nickname?"
I looked at Rosa.
She shook her head.
"I don't know," I admitted.
"Then how do I know you're not another person Julian paid to manipulate me?"
I swallowed.
"Because I can ask Grant."
"He's supposedly unable to speak."
"He isn't always."
Another silence.
Then Evelyn said something unexpected.
"Ask him what he called the first bicycle I gave Lily."
I didn't understand.
"I'll call you back."
"Wait."
Her voice had changed.
"If you're telling the truth, don't use the mansion's telephone system again."
The call ended.
I hurried upstairs.
Grant's eyes were open.
He looked weaker than he had during the night, but he was aware.
I leaned close.
"I found Evelyn."
A tear formed in his eye.
"She wants to know what you called the first bicycle she gave Lily."
Grant stared toward the window.
His lips moved.
I waited.
"Moon..."
He stopped.
"Moon... buggy."
I wrote it down.
"Is that right?"
One blink.
I called Evelyn back from my own phone.
When I said the words, she made a sound like someone had punched the air from her lungs.
"Moon Buggy," she whispered.
Then she began to cry.
"Grant named it that because Lily said she'd ride it to the moon."
I looked at the man lying helplessly before me.
"Your brother needs help."
Evelyn's voice hardened.
"Then I'm coming."
She arrived after midnight.
Rosa opened the side gate and brought her through the servants' entrance.
Evelyn wore black trousers, a wool coat, and no jewelry except a simple silver necklace.
She looked exhausted.
But the instant she entered Grant's room, something in her face broke.
"Grant?"
His eyes opened.
She rushed to the bed.
"Oh, my God."
He looked at her.
Fourteen years of silence seemed to collapse between them.
Evelyn touched his cheek.
"You stupid, stubborn man."
He managed a faint smile.
Then tears streamed down both their faces.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Finally, Evelyn turned toward me.
"Tell me everything."
I did.
She listened without interruption.
When I mentioned North Harbor, she became very still.
"That's impossible," she said.
"Why?"
"Because North Harbor Holdings was dissolved fourteen years ago."
I showed her the photograph.
Her face turned white.
"Daniel," she whispered.
"Who was Daniel?"
"Our brother."
She looked at Grant.
"He died in a warehouse fire."
The room fell silent.
Evelyn sat down slowly.
"For years, I believed Grant had allowed an unsafe shipment to proceed. Daniel died trying to stop it."
"Was that true?"
"I don't know anymore."
She looked at the photograph again.
"Julian is Daniel's son."
I stared at her.
Julian wasn't simply Grant's nephew.
He was the son of the brother whose death had torn their family apart.
Evelyn took a long breath.
"After Daniel died, Julian blamed Grant. He swore that one day he'd take everything his uncle loved."
My mind raced.
"Then why did Grant make him an executive?"
"Because Grant felt responsible. He paid for Julian's education, gave him a career, and treated him like his own child."
She shook her head.
"Guilt makes people foolish."
I looked at Grant.
He was staring at the ceiling, tears caught in his lashes.
Evelyn leaned closer.
"Grant, did Julian cause your illness?"
One blink.
She covered her mouth.
Then asked another question.
"Does he know what really happened to Daniel?"
Grant hesitated.
His expression changed.
Finally, he blinked once.
Yes.
Evelyn stood so suddenly her chair scraped against the floor.
"This isn't just about money," she whispered.
Before anyone could reply, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent me a photograph.
It showed Leo asleep in his crib.
Taken less than an hour earlier.
Below it was a message.
Stay away from Evelyn Sterling, or the next photograph won't be so peaceful.
My knees nearly gave way.
Someone knew.
May you like
Someone was watching my baby.
And whoever it was had gotten close enough to photograph him while he slept.
