Chapter 2 - THE APARTMENT THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BURN
By the time we reached North Ashland Avenue, flames were licking through the second-floor windows.
Firefighters had already blocked the street.
A crowd gathered behind yellow tape while thick black smoke poured into the October sky.
Elena pressed her hands against her mouth.
“Oh, God. Mrs. Alvarez.”
I stepped out of the SUV.
Marco followed.
“Boss, stay behind the line.”
I ignored him and approached the nearest fire captain.
“There's an elderly woman in apartment 410. She has trouble walking.”
He spoke into his radio.
“We have crews inside.”
“Is she out?”
“Sir, you need to move back.”
For most of my adult life, people had moved when I told them to.
This firefighter didn't care who I was.
And for the first time, I was grateful.
He cared about the people inside that building, not my name.
I stepped back.
Elena stood near the SUV with both girls.
Sophie had removed her pink scarf and wrapped it around Ruby's neck.
Ruby looked at it uncertainly.
“You can have it,” Sophie said.
“But it's yours.”
“I know.”
“Won't your daddy be mad?”
Sophie glanced at me.
“No. Daddy buys me too many things anyway.”
Despite everything, Elena almost smiled.
Then a firefighter appeared through the smoke.
He was carrying a small elderly woman.
“Mrs. Alvarez!”
Elena hurried forward.
The woman was conscious, coughing into an oxygen mask.
Her gray hair was covered in soot, and one slipper had fallen off.
But she was alive.
Elena knelt beside the stretcher.
“I'm so sorry. I should've been there.”
Mrs. Alvarez reached for her hand.
“No, sweetheart. You shouldn't have.”
Her eyes shifted toward the burning building.
“There was a man.”
I stepped closer.
“What man?”
“He knocked on your door. Said he was your husband.”
Elena looked at me.
Mrs. Alvarez continued.
“I told him you weren't home. He asked where you kept your important papers.”
Cold anger moved through my chest.
“What did he look like?”
“Tall. Dark jacket. Gray hair.”
Victor could have sent a dozen men matching that description.
“Did he say anything else?”
She hesitated.
“He said your little girl wouldn't need her old things anymore.”
Elena's hands began to tremble.
“What?”
“Then I smelled something burning.”
The fire captain returned and gently interrupted.
“She needs oxygen and medical attention.”
I nodded.
“Take care of her.”
Mrs. Alvarez gripped Elena's fingers before they moved her.
“Don't blame yourself, honey. I knew something was wrong. I called the fire department right away.”
Elena bent down and kissed her forehead.
“Thank you.”
I watched the ambulance pull away.
Then I looked at the flames swallowing the apartment where Ruby had slept.
I had spent millions protecting Sophie.
Bodyguards.
Armored vehicles.
An enormous house behind iron gates.
And all those years, my other daughter had been living in rented apartments where a single frightened neighbor was the closest thing she had to security.
Money suddenly felt like the least impressive thing I owned.
We took the girls to a quiet lakeside property I had purchased years earlier.
It was smaller than my mansion, with wooden floors, a stone fireplace, and windows facing Lake Michigan.
Very few people knew I owned it.
That was why I chose it.
Marco checked the doors while Elena walked through the rooms.
Ruby remained near the entrance.
She wouldn't let go of her paper bag.
Sophie ran toward the staircase.
“Ruby! Come see my room!”
Ruby didn't move.
“We're staying here?”
“For tonight,” Elena answered.
“Are my pajamas here?”
Elena crouched.
“No, sweetheart.”
“My books?”
“No.”
Ruby looked down at her bag.
“Then I lost everything.”
Sophie came back downstairs.
“You didn't lose me.”
The room went quiet.
Ruby looked at her identical face.
“We just met.”
Sophie shrugged.
“That's okay. I think sisters are supposed to stay together.”
Elena turned away.
I pretended not to notice the tears on her cheeks.
I ordered dinner from a nearby restaurant, but Ruby barely touched it.
She watched the food as though she wasn't certain she was allowed to eat.
Finally, I sat across from her.
“Don't you like spaghetti?”
“I do.”
“Then what's wrong?”
She lowered her voice.
“Do we have to pay for it?”
I felt something tighten inside me.
“No, sweetheart.”
“Mommy says we have to save money because rent is expensive.”
Elena's expression changed.
“Ruby…”
“It's okay, Mommy. I won't tell him anything else.”
I slowly put down my fork.
There are sentences a father should never hear from his five-year-old daughter.
That was one of them.
“You can tell me anything,” I said.
Ruby looked uncertain.
“Even if it's bad?”
“Especially then.”
She thought about that.
“Sometimes Mommy doesn't eat dinner. She says she already ate at work.”
Elena stared at her plate.
I couldn't look at her.
All those years, I'd been purchasing watches worth more than most people earned in a year.
While the woman I loved was skipping meals so our daughter could eat.
I wanted to apologize.
But what could I possibly say?
I'm sorry I trusted the wrong man?
I'm sorry I never questioned the paperwork?
I'm sorry I had enough power to frighten an entire city but not enough wisdom to protect my own family?
Instead, I reached for the serving bowl.
“Ruby, there's plenty of food here. You can have as much as you want.”
She gave me the smallest smile.
“Thank you.”
I would have traded every expensive possession I owned for the chance to hear her say that under different circumstances.
Later, after the girls fell asleep together on the couch, Elena and I sat beside the fireplace.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
“You look different,” she finally said.
“So do you.”
“Five years will do that.”
I studied her face.
There were fine lines near her eyes that hadn't been there before.
She looked exhausted.
But underneath the exhaustion was the same woman who used to laugh at my expensive suits and insist that no man needed twelve pairs of black shoes.
“Why didn't you come back sooner?” I asked.
Elena stared into the fire.
“Because I thought you were dead.”
“But you learned I was alive.”
“Three weeks ago.”
“How?”
“A newspaper photograph. Your name was attached to a charity event.”
I closed my eyes.
“Victor arranged that event.”
“I know that now.”
She leaned forward.
“I came back because I needed answers. And because I thought I finally had a way to prove what happened.”
“What proof?”
“Before Ruby was born, I was helping manage a charitable fund for women and children leaving dangerous homes. I discovered money disappearing from accounts that were supposed to pay for housing.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
I frowned.
“I remember the fund.”
“You signed the original funding agreement.”
“Victor handled the administration.”
“Yes,” Elena said bitterly. “He handled everything.”
She looked toward the sleeping girls.
“When I questioned the transfers, women started disappearing from the program. Their files were closed. Some were listed as relocated. Others were listed as deceased.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I tried.”
I stared at her.
She continued.
“Victor intercepted the documents I sent to your office. Then he came to see me.”
“What did he say?”
“That if I kept asking questions, the people we were helping would suffer.”
I clenched my fists.
“He threatened you?”
“He threatened everyone.”
Elena reached into Ruby's paper bag, which rested beside the couch.
From beneath a crumpled sandwich wrapper, she removed a folded piece of paper.
It was a child's drawing.
Two girls holding hands beneath a blackbird.
I stared at it.
“Ruby drew this?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Why two girls?”
Elena looked toward our daughters.
“She used to tell me she dreamed about another little girl who looked like her.”
My throat closed.
Even separated by lies and distance, our daughters had somehow imagined each other.
Elena unfolded the drawing completely.
Something had been written on the back.
A sequence of numbers.
An address.
And a name.
EVELYN SHAW — SAINT AGNES MATERNITY
“Who's Evelyn?” I asked.
Elena looked at me.
“The nurse who delivered our daughters.”
I felt my pulse quicken.
“Is she still alive?”
Elena nodded.
“She called me yesterday.”
“What did she say?”
May you like
Elena swallowed.
“She said the hospital records were forged—and that she knew who gave Victor the authority to separate our babies.”
