Chapter 1 - CAN I KISS YOU?
“Can I kiss you?”
Ten minutes later, the little girl would hand Cameron Hale proof that someone had lied about his daughter’s death.
But first, she stood in his Manhattan penthouse, waiting for an answer.
She was three years old.
African American.
Worn sneakers, faded shorts, a frayed T-shirt.
Two wavy braided pigtails framed a face too serious for someone who still needed help tying her shoes.
Cameron looked toward the woman beside her.
His house manager, Judith Mercer, had worked for him since before the accident.
That afternoon, she was looking after a substitute housekeeper’s child while the woman finished downstairs.
“You were supposed to keep her in the kitchen,” he said.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Hale.”
The little girl didn’t retreat.
“Why would you want to kiss me?” he asked.
“Because you look sad.”
At forty-three, Cameron ran Hale Capital.
People waited weeks for five minutes of his time.
His employees measured his moods by how quietly he spoke.
This child looked at him as though none of that mattered.
“What makes you think I don’t have anybody?”
She studied the empty rooms.
“Because your house is too quiet.”
Judith lowered her eyes.
The girl stepped closer.
“So can I?”
Cameron knelt.
“Okay.”
Her small hands rested against his cheeks.
She kissed him gently, then pulled back.
He closed his eyes.
For ten years, he had kept grief somewhere nobody could reach it.
When he opened his eyes, tears were running down his face.
The child wandered toward the fireplace.
“Who’s she?”
On the mantel stood a photograph of Cameron with a little girl on his shoulders.
“My daughter.”
“Where is she?”
“She died.”
His wife, Caroline, had died in a crash outside Boston.
Their four-year-old daughter, Lily, had reached the hospital alive.
By the time Cameron arrived, doctors said she was gone.
The child stared at the photograph.
“My mommy has this picture.”
His hand caught the mantel.
“What?”
“My mommy has one with that girl.”
She pulled a folded paper from her pocket.
“Mommy said if I met the sad man, I should give him this.”
Inside lay a hospital bracelet and a photograph.
Lily.
Alive in a hospital bed.
A woman Cameron didn’t recognize stood beside her.
Judith went pale.
“Her mother was the nurse who held your daughter when she died.”
The little girl shook her head.
“No, she wasn’t.”
Cameron looked at her.
“What’s your name?”
“Sofie.”
May you like
Then she pointed at Lily.
“Mommy says that girl didn’t die.”
