Chapter 11 - THE HOUSE IN VERMONTWe reached Vermont before dawn.
The photograph led us to St. Catherine’s Academy, a private school surrounded by mountains and pine trees.
The administrator was terrified.
“She enrolled under the name Sophie Miller.”
“Who enrolled her?”
“A guardian.”
“Name.”
“Victoria Moretti.”
Vince’s sister.
Of course.
“Where is Sophia now?”
The administrator hesitated.
I leaned forward.
“Please.”
That word felt strange in my mouth.
“Please tell me where my daughter is.”
She gave us an address.
A farmhouse twenty minutes north.
I drove myself.
Grace had insisted on coming.
“Amara stays with Adrian,” I said.
“She’ll be safe.”
Grace sat beside me.
“You think Sophia will remember you?”
The question terrified me.
“She was six.”
“She will.”
“What if she doesn’t?”
Grace looked at me.
“Then you remind her slowly.”
The farmhouse appeared through the trees.
No guards.
No cars.
Too quiet.
I approached the door.
It was unlocked.
Inside were children’s drawings.
Books.
A small yellow coat.
Then I heard piano music.
My heart stopped.
Sophia had started piano lessons three weeks before the crash.
I walked toward the sound.
A girl sat at an old piano.
Brown hair reaching her shoulders.
Thin shoulders.
A scar beside her right ear.
She stopped playing.
Turned.
My world disappeared.
“Sophia.”
She stared at me.
No recognition.
No smile.
Just fear.
A woman rushed from the kitchen.
Victoria Moretti.
She stepped between us.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
I could barely hear her.
My daughter was alive.
“Sophia.”
She backed away.
“Who are you?”
I thought grief had already killed me once.
I was wrong.
“I’m…”
My voice failed.
Grace touched my arm.
I tried again.
“I’m Julian.”
Sophia stared.
Victoria said quietly,
“She was told you died.”
I turned.
“What?”
“She woke up asking for you. Vince told her both parents were dead.”
I wanted to tear the house apart.
Instead, I looked at my daughter.
“I’m your dad.”
Sophia shook her head.
“No.”
She ran upstairs.
I followed halfway, then stopped.
Don’t frighten her.
Don’t force her.
Become the man she believed you were.
Victoria crossed her arms.
“Vince thought keeping her alive would make up for the crash.”
“Keeping her away from me for two years?”
“He was scared.”
“He kidnapped my child.”
“He saved her from Crowe.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Crowe went to the hospital to finish what he started.”
Grace gasped.
Victoria continued.
“Vince got there first. He took Sophia because he thought anyone around Julian Hale would be a target.”
“Why didn’t he tell me later?”
“Because he knew what you’d do.”
“What would I do?”
Victoria looked at me.
“Exactly what everyone always expects you to do.”
Kill.
Destroy.
Burn.
I looked upstairs.
My daughter was hiding from me because men had taught her my name meant danger.
Then Victoria said something worse.
“She knows Vince as Grandpa.”
My hands curled.
“Where is he?”
Victoria looked toward the back door.
“He was here twenty minutes ago.”
I spun.
“What?”
“He saw your car.”
“And?”
“He took Sophia’s passport.”
I ran outside.
May you like
A vehicle was disappearing down the snowy road.
Vince had come back for her.
