PART 2
For the first time in years, Tommy Vale heard Emmett Cross stop breathing.
On the other end of the line, Tommy said nothing. He knew better. There were moments when silence was safer than loyalty, and this was one of them.
Emmett stared at the birth certificate until the letters seemed to burn through the screen.
Luna Harper. Father: Emmett Cross.
The office was quiet except for the fire cracking behind him and the low howl of wind against the windows.
Mrs. Ingrid stepped closer.
“Emmett?”
He closed the file.
“Who else has seen this?”
“Unknown,” Tommy said over the phone. “The record was sealed. Someone accessed it three weeks ago through a private legal channel.”
“Victor?”
“That’s what it looks like.”
Emmett’s eyes hardened.
“Looks like is not enough.”
“There’s more,” Tommy said. “A petition was filed yesterday morning. Emergency guardianship. Victor Brennon used another name, but the signature trail is his. He claims Diana Harper is unstable, missing, and unfit.”
Mrs. Ingrid covered her mouth.
Emmett’s voice dropped.
“And Luna?”
“The petition asks the court to transfer the child by noon tomorrow.”
The fire popped.
Emmett turned slowly toward the closed guest room door down the hall.
Luna was asleep in his house.
His daughter was asleep in his house.
And somewhere in Chicago, Victor Brennon was reaching for her.
“Find Diana,” Emmett said.
“We already sent men to Pilsen.”
“No.” Emmett’s eyes stayed cold. “I’m going myself.”
By seven in the morning, the city was gray, frozen, and half-buried under snow. Emmett’s black SUV rolled through Pilsen with two cars behind it. Tommy sat beside him, silent, reading updates from a phone that wouldn’t stop buzzing.
Diana’s apartment building was narrow, old, and tired. A string of cheap Christmas lights flickered in the front window. A neighbor opened her door when she saw Emmett’s men in the hall, then quickly shut it again.
Diana’s apartment door had been forced open.
Inside, everything was wrong.
A cereal bowl sat broken on the kitchen floor. A child’s pink cup lay beneath the table. A chair was overturned. Drawers had been pulled out, couch cushions slashed open, papers scattered everywhere.
Emmett walked through the mess without speaking.
Then he saw the wall beside Luna’s bed.
Crayon drawings had been taped there.
A woman with brown hair.
A small girl in a white hat.
And a tall man in a black coat, drawn like a shadow with blue eyes.
Under the drawing, in careful child letters, Luna had written:
The man Mommy said would come if the monsters found us.
Tommy looked away.
Emmett did not.
He stared at the drawing for a long moment, then stepped closer to the bed. Something about the baseboard caught his eye. One corner was loose.
He crouched.
Behind it was a small plastic bag.
Inside: a burner phone, a motel key, a flash drive, and three folded receipts.
Tommy reached for the phone.
Emmett took it first.
There was one saved recording.
He played it.
Diana’s voice filled the room, shaking but clear.
“Emmett, if you’re hearing this, then Luna made it to you. Please don’t hate her for what I did. I took Victor’s money, but not to betray you. I took it because he thought I was desperate enough to sell him access to Luna.”
A pause. Breathing.
“He found out she was yours.”
Emmett’s jaw flexed.
Diana continued.
“He wanted her because of your name. Your money. Your enemies. Your bloodline. He said a child could open doors even men couldn’t. I told him I would cooperate, but I was copying everything. Names. Judges. Police. Hotels. Bank accounts. Women he threatened. Children he moved through court papers like property.”
Mrs. Ingrid had called it a question.
What did she sell?
Now Emmett knew.
Diana hadn’t sold her daughter.
She had sold Victor a lie.
The recording continued.
“I was going to bring it to you tonight. But someone warned him.”
Tommy’s head lifted.
Diana’s voice broke.
“Someone close to you.”
The room went colder than the street outside.
Emmett slowly turned toward Tommy.
Tommy’s face emptied.
“Boss—”
Emmett raised one hand.
Not now.
Not here.
He slipped the phone into his coat.
They searched the rest of the apartment and found no Diana. No blood. No body. Just panic, fear, and signs of a woman who had fought hard to buy her child one night of safety.
Back at the mansion, Luna was awake.
She sat near the fireplace wrapped in a blanket, eating toast she barely touched. Her eyes went straight to Emmett when he entered.
“Did you find my mom?”
Emmett removed his coat slowly.
“Not yet.”
Luna nodded like she had expected that answer and hated herself for hoping.
Then she reached into the pocket of the dry coat Mrs. Ingrid had given her and pulled out the old photo from the video. The corners were bent. The image was faded.
Diana, younger, standing outside a nightclub.
Beside her stood Emmett Cross, seven years younger, his hand resting lightly on her back.
Luna pointed at him.
“Mom said this was you.”
Emmett took the photo.
He remembered the night now.
Rain. Cigarette smoke. Diana laughing once, then getting embarrassed because she had laughed too loudly. He remembered walking her to a cab. He remembered thinking he should call her.
Then his world swallowed him again.
And Diana disappeared.
“Is it?” Luna asked.
Emmett looked at the child’s face. His face. His mother’s eyes. Diana’s mouth.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “That’s me.”
Before Luna could ask another question, the doorbell rang.
Every man in the house moved.
Emmett turned.
A guard entered carrying a small white box wrapped with a red ribbon.
“It was left at the gate.”
Emmett opened it.
Inside was a child’s music box.
Luna gasped.
“That’s mine.”
Emmett lifted the lid.
A tiny ballerina began to turn.
Then Diana’s recorded voice came through the hidden speaker, weak and terrified.
“Emmett… please… if Luna is with you, don’t trust Tommy.”
Tommy’s face went white.
May you like
Then Victor Brennon’s voice replaced hers, smooth and smiling.
“Midnight, Cross. Bring the flash drive. Come alone. Or your daughter loses her mother forever.”
