Chapter 3 - The Echo of a Lullaby
Victoria looked down, annoyed by her sister-in-law's dramatic outburst, ready to instruct the guards to gently escort the child to the kitchen for a hot meal. But as her eyes landed on the object by her silk-clad feet, the breath was violently knocked from her lungs.
She fell to her knees, her designer gown pooling around her on the floor, indifferent to the gasps of the high-society guests. With trembling, manicured hands, Victoria picked up the watch.
The gold was scratched, the glass shattered, but the crest—the falcon gripping the sapphire—was unmistakable. She traced the engraving with a shaking thumb. She flipped the lid open. Inside, engraved in elegant cursive, were the words: For the Hawthorne Legacy. May time always be on your side.
"Where..." Victoria whispered. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. She looked up, her eyes wide and wild, locking onto the small, trembling girl crying in Beatrice's vicious grip. "Where did you get this?"
"I... I've always had it," Lily sobbed, terrified of the beautiful woman staring at her so intensely. "Please don't take it! It's mine! It's the only thing I have!"
Beatrice scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Oh, please, Victoria. The little rat obviously stole it from some pawn shop. Guards, throw her out!"
"Let her go, Beatrice," Victoria commanded. Her voice was not a whisper this time; it was the ferocious, earth-shattering roar of a mother.
Beatrice recoiled, dropping her hand in shock.
Victoria scrambled forward on her knees, disregarding all poise and protocol. She reached Lily and gently, tentatively, took the child's small, dirt-streaked face in her trembling hands. Victoria's heart was beating so fast it felt like it might burst through her ribs.
She looked into the girl's eyes. They were a piercing, startling blue. The exact same winter-sky blue as her late husband's.
"What... what is your name, sweet girl?" Victoria asked, tears flooding her eyes, ruining her immaculate makeup.
"Lily," the girl sniffled, wiping her nose with her dirty sleeve.
"Lily," Victoria choked out a sob, brushing the messy chestnut curls away from the girl's forehead. And there it was. Just above her left eyebrow, hidden by the grime and hair, was a tiny, pale birthmark shaped like a crescent moon.
The walls of the ballroom seemed to vanish. The crowd, the music, the lights—it all disappeared. Seven years of agonizing grief, of empty nurseries, of crying until she vomited, of staring out into the rain wondering if her baby was warm... it all crashed down onto Victoria in a single, tidal wave of realization.
"Evangeline," Victoria breathed, the name tasting like salvation on her lips.
"Victoria, you can't be serious!" Beatrice sputtered, her face pale as realization dawned on the crowd. "This... this gutter trash is not—"
"Get out," Victoria snapped, not even looking at Beatrice. She pulled Lily into her chest, burying her face in the girl's dirty, wet denim jacket. She didn't care about the smell of the streets; to her, it was the greatest scent in the world. She held the child with a desperate, crushing grip, terrified that if she let go, the girl would vanish into thin air. "Security, escort Beatrice out of my house. Now. And call the police. I want a full investigation into where my sister-in-law was the night my daughter was taken."
Beatrice let out a strangled cry as the guards, recognizing the sheer authority in Victoria's voice, grabbed her by the arms and dragged her toward the exit, her protests fading into the night.
Lily stood frozen, enveloped in the warmth of this beautiful, crying woman. She felt the soft silk of the gown and smelled the soothing scent of vanilla and lavender. For the first time in her life, the coldness in her bones began to melt.
"Are you... are you the lady from the flag?" Lily whispered, wrapping her small, frail arms cautiously around Victoria's neck.
Victoria let out a watery, beautiful laugh, pulling back just enough to kiss Lily's dirty forehead, then her cheeks, then her nose.
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"I am, my darling. I am," Victoria cried, pressing her forehead against her daughter's. "I'm your mother. And you are never, ever going to be cold again."
The grand ballroom erupted into thunderous applause and tears from the guests, but Victoria and Lily didn't hear them. In the center of the blinding diamonds and the dirt of the streets, the fractured pieces of a broken family finally snapped back together, perfectly in time.
