I read the message again.
SING THE LAST VERSE, CLAIRE.
Or your mother dies before midnight.
I had never known there was a last verse.
My mother had always hummed the same short melody.
Sometimes she added words about a lantern, a window, and a little girl finding her way home.
But whenever I asked what came next, she would smile and say she had forgotten.
Now I wondered whether forgetting had been the only thing keeping us alive.
"Who disappeared with her baby?" I asked Gabriel.
He looked out the windshield.
"Elena's mother."
I turned toward him.
"Your wife's mother?"
"Her name was Rose."
"What happened to her?"
"According to Elena, Rose worked for my father thirty years ago. She disappeared after a fire at one of his properties."
"And the baby?"
Gabriel hesitated.
"Elena believed the child died."
I looked at the photograph on my phone.
My mother was alive.
Someone had taken her.
And the woman who had taken her knew a song I had been hearing since childhood.
"How old was the baby?"
Gabriel looked at me.
"Less than a year."
I felt a cold pressure behind my ribs.
"Was it a girl?"
"Yes."
I turned away.
Thirty years.
A missing baby.
A song.
My mother's warning.
It was impossible.
Except the impossible was beginning to look like the only explanation.
When we returned to the penthouse, Gabriel's head of security met us outside the elevator.
Daniel Mercer was a tall, gray-haired man with the weary expression of someone who had spent too many years cleaning up other people's mistakes.
"We found Victoria's apartment," he said.
"Anything?" Gabriel asked.
"She hasn't been there in three days. Her passport is missing. We also found several prepaid phones."
"Where's Lily?"
"With Dr. Hale. She's stable."
Gabriel exhaled.
I hadn't realized he had been holding his breath.
"Get me everything you can on Victoria Bell," he said. "Every address. Every financial account. Every person she's contacted in the last month."
Daniel nodded.
Then he looked at me.
"Miss Donnelly, we need to ask you some questions."
Gabriel stepped between us.
"Not now."
"Sir, with respect—"
"She's here to help my daughter."
Daniel lowered his eyes.
"Understood."
But as he walked away, I caught the look he gave me.
Suspicion.
I couldn't blame him.
A stranger had entered the penthouse.
The dying child had suddenly spoken.
And now that stranger's mother was connected to the dead woman's past.
If I were Daniel, I would have been suspicious too.
I returned to Lily's room.
She was sitting upright, holding Button.
A small bowl of applesauce rested on the bedside table.
"Claire," she whispered.
I smiled.
"Hi, sweetheart."
She looked behind me.
"Is Daddy mad?"
"No. He's worried."
"Because I told?"
My heart sank.
I sat beside the bed.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Lily looked at her bunny.
"The lady said Daddy would be mad if I told."
"Did she tell you why?"
Lily nodded.
"She said Mommy went away because I was bad."
I felt a flash of anger so sharp that I had to take a breath before speaking.
"Lily, listen to me."
She looked up.
"Your mommy didn't die because you were bad."
Her eyes filled.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
"She said Mommy wouldn't leave if I was good."
I reached for a tissue.
"Sometimes terrible things happen, sweetheart. But they don't happen because little girls forget to clean their rooms or spill juice or make mistakes."
Lily began crying.
I held out my hand.
She took it.
For the first time since I had arrived, she allowed me to sit beside her.
I didn't ask another question.
I simply stayed.
Later that afternoon, Gabriel joined us.
Lily looked at him nervously.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
"Sweetheart, Claire told me you're worried I'm angry with you."
Lily nodded.
Gabriel's face tightened.
"I'm not angry."
"Because I told about the lady?"
"Because you told me the truth."
She studied him.
"Even if it's bad?"
"Especially then."
Lily reached toward him.
Gabriel gathered her carefully into his arms.
I looked away.
But I heard him whisper, "I'm so sorry I didn't understand."
That evening, Dr. Hale reported that Lily had eaten several small portions and was responding better to treatment.
She still needed close medical supervision, but the immediate danger had begun to ease.
Gabriel thanked her.
Then he asked me to come to his study.
A laptop sat open on the desk.
Beside it lay an old photograph.
Three women stood in front of a brick townhouse.
One was young and blonde.
One had dark hair.
The third wore a pale blue dress and held a baby.
I recognized the blonde woman immediately.
My mother.
Not as I knew her now.
But younger.
Healthy.
Smiling.
I picked up the photograph with trembling fingers.
"Where did you get this?"
"Elena kept it in a locked drawer."
"Why?"
Gabriel pointed to the woman holding the baby.
"That's Rose."
I looked at her.
Her face was familiar in a way I couldn't explain.
"Who are the others?"
"The dark-haired woman is Victoria Bell's mother, Evelyn."
"And my mother?"
Gabriel looked at me.
"We're still trying to establish that."
I turned the photograph over.
There was a handwritten date.
June 14, 1996.
And beneath it, three names.
Rose.
Evelyn.
Maggie.
Maggie.
My mother had always hated being called Margaret.
Everyone who knew her well called her Maggie.
I sank into the nearest chair.
"She lied to me."
Gabriel didn't answer.
"She told me she grew up in Albany. She said she moved to New York after my father died."
"Did she ever show you photographs?"
"Only a few."
"Birth certificate?"
"She kept it in a locked box."
Gabriel leaned forward.
"Claire, I need you to understand something. Whatever happened thirty years ago, it may have nothing to do with anything your mother chose."
I looked at him.
"Then why did she tell me to leave your house?"
Before he could answer, Daniel entered.
"We found something."
He placed a tablet on the desk.
Security footage from the rehabilitation center appeared on the screen.
My mother was sitting in her wheelchair near the entrance.
A woman approached her.
Dark hair.
Expensive coat.
A silk scarf.
Victoria Bell.
My mother looked frightened.
Victoria bent down and said something.
Then she held up a photograph.
My mother covered her mouth.
A few seconds later, she followed Victoria toward the exit.
"Can you hear what they're saying?" I asked.
"No audio," Daniel said.
"Can you identify the photograph?"
"We're working on it."
The video continued.
As Victoria helped my mother into a black sedan, my mother turned toward the security camera.
She raised one hand.
Three fingers.
Then two.
Then one.
I sat forward.
"Wait."
Daniel paused the footage.
"What's wrong?"
"Play it again."
My mother repeated the gesture.
Three.
Two.
One.
Then she pressed her palm against her chest.
I began shaking.
Gabriel noticed.
"Claire?"
"When I was little, Mom taught me a game."
"What game?"
"If we ever got separated in a crowded place, she told me to remember three things."
I swallowed.
"Three steps. Two turns. One light."
Daniel frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"I don't know."
Gabriel looked at the screen.
"Maybe it's a location."
"Or a warning."
Daniel's phone rang.
He answered, listened, and slowly turned toward Gabriel.
"We found Victoria's original birth records."
Gabriel stood.
"And?"
"Victoria Bell isn't her real name."
The room went quiet.
Daniel continued.
"She was born Victoria Varrick."
I looked at Gabriel.
His face had gone completely still.
Daniel swallowed.
"Sir, she's your father's daughter."
Gabriel stared at the photograph of the three women.
Then he whispered, "My sister."
And somewhere in New York, the woman who had stolen my mother was waiting for me to sing a song that could destroy everything Gabriel Varrick believed about his family.