Chương 2 - the eyes of the past
The silence in the hallway was suffocating. The word echoed off the marble floor like a physical strike.
Emily stepped back half a pace, her hand resting on the small of Lily's back. Her fair face had gone completely pale, her blue eyes wide as she stared at her husband. "Ryan... what did she just call you?"
"Emily, look at me," Ryan said instantly, rising to his full height. His broad chest heaved under his black suit jacket as he held his palms up. "I swear to you on my life, I have never seen this child before in my life. I don't know who she is."
"She was living inside our walls, Ryan!" Emily's voice cracked with a mixture of raw fear and rising emotion. "She looks just like you! Look at her eyes! Look at her jaw!"
Ryan looked down at the little girl sitting on the hallway carpet. She was clutching Lily's hand tightly, shivering in her oversized sweatshirt. Up close, under the clear LED lighting of the corridor, the resemblance was undeniable—the deep-set dark eyes, the high cheekbones, the slight cleft in her chin.
"We need to clean her up," Emily murmured, her protective motherly instincts suddenly overriding her shock. She knelt beside the girls, her voice softening as she looked at the trembling child. "Sweetie... what's your name?"
The little girl swallowed hard, her voice barely audible. "Maya..."
"How long have you been in the wall, Maya?" Emily asked gently, stroking the child's messy brown hair.
"Since the rain started," Maya whispered. "A man in a black coat put me through the little door near the garage and told me to stay quiet until the big man found me."
Ryan’s eyes narrowed into razor-sharp focus. He walked swiftly over to the hallway house phone, dialing his head of security, Marcus.
"Marcus," Ryan growled into the receiver, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "Lock down the entire perimeter. Bring the internal security logs for the west wing maintenance access from the past two weeks directly to my study. Do not tell anyone."
Ten minutes later, Maya sat on the plush sofa in the warm living room, wrapped in a soft wool blanket, drinking a cup of warm broth. Lily sat right beside her, holding a small stuffed bear out for Maya to hold.
Emily stood near the fireplace, her arms crossed over her cream blouse, her eyes fixed on the child.
Ryan stepped out of his study, holding a small silver locket he had found tucked into the pocket of Maya's oversized sweatshirt. He walked over to the coffee table and set the locket down under the lamp.
"She had this in her pocket," Ryan said quietly.
Emily stepped closer, picking up the silver pendant. She pressed the side latch, snapping the locket open.
Inside were two small photographs. On the left was a picture of a beautiful young woman with soft brown hair. On the right was a photograph of a man in a dark suit—a man who looked almost identical to Ryan.
Emily gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she looked up at Ryan. "That's... that's Luke."
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Ryan took a slow, heavy breath, his jaw tightening. Luke Vane was Ryan's younger brother—a man who had been murdered four years ago during the height of the Chicago syndicate wars.
"Maya isn't my daughter, Emily," Ryan whispered softly, looking into his wife's eyes. "She's Luke's daughter. She's my niece."
