Chapter 1 - The Words in the Rain
Lily stepped into the storm and whispered, "Don't cry, mister."
Adrien Voss looked down and saw the little blue umbrella trembling above his head.
A tiny yellow duck had been drawn near its broken handle.
Under the duck were three faded letters: E.V.A.
Adrien suddenly stopped breathing.
Maria Delgado saw it happen from the doorway.
For one terrible second, she couldn't move.
"Lily!"
Her daughter's name disappeared beneath the thunder.
Lily either didn't hear her or chose not to. At six years old, she had developed the dangerous belief that kindness was a perfectly reasonable response to every problem.
She stood beside Adrien on the bottom marble step, stretching both arms to keep the umbrella over him.
Most of it wasn't covering her.
Rain soaked the shoulder of her pink coat.
Adrien stared at the umbrella.
Then at Lily.
Then back at those three faded letters.
E.V.A.
The glass slipped from his hand.
It struck the marble and rolled instead of breaking, spilling amber liquid into the rain.
Maria's heart hammered.
In two years working at the Voss estate, she had seen grown men turn pale because Adrien had looked at them too long. She had watched executives enter his study confident and emerge twenty minutes later speaking in whispers.
She had never seen Adrien Voss look afraid.
Until now.
"Who taught you to say that?" he asked.
Lily blinked.
"Say what?"
"That."
His voice was almost lost beneath the rain.
"Don't cry. I'll keep you dry."
Lily frowned as if the question made no sense.
"Nobody."
Adrien rose slowly.
At six-foot-three, he seemed enormous beside her.
Maria hurried down the steps.
"Lily, come here."
"But Mama—"
"Now."
Lily reluctantly lowered the umbrella.
Adrien caught its edge before she could move away.
Maria stopped.
His fingers rested on the blue fabric.
Not gripping.
Barely touching.
His attention was fixed on the tiny yellow duck.
"Where did she get this?"
Maria looked at the umbrella.
"At a thrift store."
"When?"
"I don't remember. Last spring, maybe."
"Which store?"
Maria hesitated.
"Mr. Voss—"
"Which store, Maria?"
It was the first time in two years she had heard him use her first name.
"Second Chance. On Milwaukee Avenue."
Adrien looked at Lily again.
"Did it already have this writing?"
Lily turned the handle around.
"You mean the letters?"
"Yes."
She nodded.
"I tried to wash them off because I wanted to write my name there. Mama said not to ruin things just because they're old."
Maria wished desperately that her daughter would stop talking.
Adrien crouched.
Now his face was level with Lily's.
"Do you know what those letters mean?"
"No."
"Did anyone ever tell you?"
"No."
"Have you ever seen someone else with this umbrella?"
"Mr. Voss."
Maria's warning was sharper this time.
Adrien raised one hand.
"It's all right."
No, Maria thought.
Nothing about this was all right.
Lightning flashed over the lake.
For an instant, Adrien's face became stark white beneath his wet hair.
Then Maria saw something she had never expected to see there.
Grief.
Not tonight's grief.
Something older.
Something buried so deeply that the little umbrella had somehow dug it back up.
Adrien released the fabric.
"Take Lily inside."
Maria immediately reached for her daughter.
Lily resisted.
"Mama, he's still wet."
"Lily."
"He needs the umbrella."
"I don't need it," Adrien said.
Lily studied him.
"You look like you do."
Something almost happened to his expression.
Almost a smile.
Almost pain.
"Keep it," he said.
Lily finally allowed Maria to lead her toward the house.
They had climbed three steps when Adrien spoke again.
"Maria."
She turned.
He remained in the rain.
"Don't throw that umbrella away."
Maria tightened her hand around Lily's.
"I wasn't planning to."
"Good."
"Why?"
The question escaped before she could stop it.
Adrien looked toward the lake.
"Because it belonged to my sister."
Maria felt the cold before the meaning reached her.
Lily looked delighted.
"You have a sister?"
Adrien's eyes closed.
"Had."
Maria pulled Lily inside.
The heavy doors shut behind them.
Warmth should have been comforting.
It wasn't.
Maria hurried through the foyer, past the chandelier and into the staff corridor.
Lily struggled to keep pace.
"Mama, you're hurting my hand."
Maria released her immediately.
"I'm sorry."
"Why are you mad?"
"I'm not mad."
"You have the mad face."
"I was scared."
"Of the rain?"
Maria crouched.
"Of you walking outside without telling me."
"But he was sad."
"That doesn't mean you can—"
"Why was he sad?"
"I don't know."
"Because his sister died?"
Maria stared at her.
Children could find the sharpest question in a room without even looking for it.
"I don't know."
"Was Eva his sister?"
Maria's stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The umbrella."
Lily pointed to the handle.
"E-V-A. Eva."
Maria had noticed the letters before.
She had never thought about them.
Now she wished she had.
"Maybe."
"Did she die?"
"Lily."
"Mr. Voss said he had a sister. Had means she's gone."
Maria exhaled slowly.
"Go change your clothes."
"But—"
"Please."
Something in her voice finally reached Lily.
She nodded and disappeared into the tiny staff apartment they were allowed to use on nights when Maria worked late.
Maria remained in the corridor.
She could still hear the storm.
And beneath it, she remembered Adrien's question.
Who taught you to say that?
Not Why did you say that?
Who taught you?
As if he had heard those exact words before.
Maria returned to the staff-room window.
Adrien was no longer on the steps.
The glass remained there.
So did the spilled whiskey.
A black sedan was pulling away from the mansion.
She hadn't heard it arrive.
Maria watched its taillights disappear.
Then her phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
A second message arrived.
She opened the first.
DO NOT LET VOSS SEE THE UMBRELLA AGAIN.
Maria's fingers went numb.
The second message contained a photograph.
She enlarged it.
A young woman stood beneath the same blue umbrella.
The picture looked at least fifteen years old.
The woman was smiling.
Beside her stood a much younger Adrien.
Maria recognized him immediately.
Shorter hair.
No beard.
No coldness in his eyes.
His arm was around the woman's shoulders.
On the umbrella was the same yellow duck.
Maria zoomed in.
E.V.A.
A third message appeared.
YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOUR DAUGHTER JUST STARTED.
Maria looked toward the staff apartment.
"Lily?"
No answer.
She hurried inside.
Her daughter's wet coat lay on the floor.
The bedroom was empty.
"Lily?"
Maria ran back into the hallway.
Then she heard voices.
One belonged to Lily.
The other belonged to Adrien.
They were coming from the west corridor.
Maria's blood turned cold.
Employees were forbidden from entering that part of the mansion.
She followed the voices.
The door to Adrien's private study stood open.
Lily was inside.
Adrien stood behind his desk.
The blue umbrella lay between them.
Beside it was a silver picture frame.
Maria stepped closer.
It held the same photograph she had just received.
Young Adrien.
The blue umbrella.
The smiling woman.
Lily pointed at her.
"She's pretty."
Adrien didn't answer.
Lily looked closer.
Then her face changed.
"Mama?"
Maria entered.
"What?"
Lily pointed at the photograph again.
"Why does she have your necklace?"
Maria froze.
Her hand instinctively rose to the small silver pendant at her throat.
Adrien's eyes followed.
Maria had worn that necklace every day for twelve years.
She slowly removed it.
The pendant was shaped like a tiny crescent moon.
In the photograph, Eva Voss wore its identical twin.
Adrien came around the desk.
"Where did you get that?"
Maria's mouth went dry.
"My husband gave it to me."
"When?"
"The night Lily was born."
"What was your husband's name?"
Maria hesitated.
"Daniel Delgado."
Adrien's face changed.
"No."
Maria stepped backward.
"What do you mean, no?"
Adrien stared at the necklace.
"Daniel Delgado wasn't his real name."
The room seemed to shrink around her.
"How would you know?"
Adrien opened a locked drawer.
He removed an old envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
A man stood beside Eva.
Maria knew his face.
She had kissed that face.
Married that face.
Buried that face.
Her dead husband smiled back at her from a photograph taken years before they supposedly met.
Maria couldn't breathe.
Adrien turned the picture over.
Something was written on the back.
One name.
Maria reached for it.
Adrien caught her wrist.
"Before you read this," he said quietly, "you need to understand something."
"What?"
"Your husband didn't die in the accident you were told about."
Maria stared at him.
Adrien released her.
Then the security monitor on his desk suddenly came alive.
A camera showed the mansion's front gate.
A man stood outside in the rain.
No car.
No umbrella.
Just a dark coat and a face Maria had not seen in seven years.
The dead man lifted his head toward the camera.
Maria whispered his name.
May you like
"Daniel..."
The front gate began to open.
