Chapter 7
The photograph haunted me.
Elena was standing outside a medical office, holding Lily in her arms.
Her expression was frightened.
Someone had circled her face in red.
I couldn't stop thinking about those words.
Ask Adrian what he ignored.
They weren't random.
Someone wanted him to remember something.
That night, I found him sitting alone in the study.
The photograph lay on his desk.
He looked exhausted.
"There's something I never told anyone," he said.
I sat down.
He took a slow breath.
"Two weeks before Elena died, she asked me to stop letting Vivian into our home."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"She said Vivian was controlling things. Our appointments. Our finances. Even who visited Lily."
"Did you believe her?"
He shook his head.
"Vivian told me Elena was struggling. She said the stress of motherhood was affecting her judgment."
I closed my eyes.
Elena had been a doctor.
A compassionate, intelligent woman who understood mental health.
She had also been a new mother navigating exhaustion and grief over her own mother's recent death.
Vivian had used that vulnerability against her.
Adrian continued.
"Elena begged me to look at the foundation accounts. I told her the accountants would handle it."
His voice broke.
"She said, 'One day you're going to wish you'd listened.'"
Neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at me.
"She was right."
I wanted to be angry.
Part of me was.
But I could see that Adrian was no longer hiding behind excuses.
He was facing what he had done.
And what he had failed to do.
"Then honor her by listening now," I said.
He nodded.
The next morning, Detective Price requested a formal interview with Adrian.
Dr. Keller had been located in Connecticut.
He initially denied knowing Vivian well.
But financial investigators discovered that Grant's companies had transferred more than two hundred thousand dollars into an account connected to Keller's private practice.
There were also inconsistencies in Elena's treatment notes.
Several appointments had been added after her death.
Others had been altered.
When detectives confronted Keller with the records, he requested an attorney.
A day later, his lawyer contacted prosecutors about possible cooperation.
It was the first real crack in Vivian's carefully constructed story.
Meanwhile, Lily was improving.
Slowly.
She still woke from nightmares.
She still hid when she heard unexpected footsteps.
But she had started laughing again.
One afternoon, she asked me to help her make pancakes.
We used too much flour.
There was batter on the counter.
A little even landed on her nose.
She froze.
I recognized the look.
The old terror.
So I dipped my finger into the batter and put a tiny dot on my own nose.
Lily stared at me.
Then she giggled.
"You're messy!"
"Terribly messy."
She smiled.
"Will Daddy be mad?"
I looked toward the kitchen entrance.
Adrian had just walked in.
He studied the flour-covered counter.
Then he loosened his tie.
"Well, this is serious."
Lily went rigid.
He reached for the flour.
"Clearly, we need more."
He dusted a little on his own sleeve.
Lily burst out laughing.
It was the loudest laugh I had ever heard from her.
Adrian looked at me.
His eyes were shining.
For a few moments, we were simply three people making terrible pancakes.
And Lily was a little girl allowed to be little.
That evening, the peace ended.
Detective Price called.
Vivian had been located at a private marina in Florida.
She had attempted to leave the country aboard a chartered yacht.
Federal authorities detained her for questioning under a warrant connected to the financial investigation.
Grant had not been found.
Adrian stood immediately.
"Is Lily safe?"
"Yes," Detective Price said. "But we recommend maintaining protection until Grant is located."
I looked toward the hallway.
Lily was asleep.
Grace was sitting outside her room.
Daniel remained downstairs.
Still, I felt uneasy.
Grant knew the Cross family's routines.
He knew their properties.
He had spent years moving freely through Adrian's life.
Then my phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
I almost ignored it.
But something made me answer.
"Maya?"
The man's voice was strained.
"Who is this?"
"Grant."
My blood turned cold.
I signaled for Adrian.
He stepped closer.
"Why are you calling me?"
"Because you're the only person who might listen."
I put the phone on speaker.
Adrian's expression hardened.
"Grant, where are you?"
"Don't pretend you're going to help me."
"Tell us what you want."
Grant laughed bitterly.
"Vivian told me she'd take the blame if things went wrong. Now she's talking to prosecutors, and she's going to put everything on me."
My pulse quickened.
"Did you hurt Elena?"
A long silence.
Then Grant whispered, "I didn't mean for her to die."
Adrian staggered backward.
I gripped the phone.
"What does that mean?"
"We were supposed to scare her. Make her stop asking questions."
Adrian stepped forward.
"You sabotaged her car."
Grant began breathing heavily.
"Vivian said Keller could make everyone think Elena was unstable. She said the accident would settle everything."
I felt sick.
"Then you knew she could die."
Grant said nothing.
Adrian's voice shook with rage.
"You killed my wife."
"Adrian, listen—"
"No. You listen."
His hands were trembling.
"You sat at my table. You held my daughter. You let me mourn Elena while you knew what you'd done."
Grant began crying.
"I know."
I looked at the recording indicator on my phone.
It was running.
I had activated it when Grant identified himself.
Detective Price would later advise us about preserving the call and documenting how it was obtained.
But in that moment, I couldn't think about legal details.
Only Elena.
Only Lily.
Only the years stolen from them.
Grant suddenly lowered his voice.
"There's something else."
Adrian stared at the phone.
"What?"
"Vivian didn't just want Elena gone."
I held my breath.
May you like
Grant continued.
"She had a plan for Lily too."
