Chapter 7 - The Debt at Elena’s Door
Elena read the sentence until the letters blurred.
She is alive.
Hope hurt worse than grief.
Damian wanted proof.
Elena wanted the same thing.
They examined the hospital bracelet.
The serial number corresponded to a private pediatric recovery center outside Chicago.
Closed eighteen months earlier.
Damian prepared cars.
Elena stopped him.
“If she’s alive, we don’t storm in.”
“My brother may be there.”
“And my daughter may be there.”
That ended the argument.
They went quietly.
The clinic appeared abandoned.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Except one hallway.
Fresh footprints crossed the floor.
They followed them.
A room at the end contained a child’s bed.
Pink blanket.
Crayons.
Drawings.
Elena saw one and stopped.
A purple butterfly.
Lily had drawn butterflies exactly that way.
Three circles for the body.
Huge uneven wings.
“She was here.”
Damian found dates on the wall.
Height measurements.
The most recent was three weeks earlier.
Elena pressed both hands to her mouth.
Alive.
Maybe.
A sound came from behind them.
Evan.
Damian grabbed him.
“How did you find us?”
“Maddox told me.”
“You’re working with him?”
“I was.”
Evan looked at Elena.
“I sold information to pay the debt.”
Her face hardened.
“You sold information about Lily?”
“I thought she was dead.”
“You abandoned us.”
“I was scared.”
“So was she.”
Evan lowered his eyes.
“I know.”
He handed Elena a key card.
“I found where they moved her.”
“Where?”
“Mercer property.”
Damian frowned.
“I own no medical facility.”
“Not you.”
Evan looked at him.
“Alexander.”
The facility was beneath an old rehabilitation center owned through shell corporations.
Before they could leave, Damian’s phone buzzed.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
A video arrived.
Grace sat tied to a chair.
Behind her stood Alexander Mercer.
Older.
Scarred.
Alive.
“Hello, little brother.”
Damian’s hand tightened around the phone.
Alexander smiled.
“You’ve been looking for ghosts.”
He leaned toward the camera.
“Bring Elena Hart to the old St. Catherine’s surgical wing by midnight.”
Elena went pale.
Damian shook his head.
“No.”
Alexander continued.
“Come alone, Elena.”
Someone moved behind him.
A small figure.
Blonde hair.
Elena stopped breathing.
Alexander pulled the child forward.
The girl looked directly into the camera.
“Elena,” Damian whispered.
But she had already recognized her.
Lily looked older.
Thinner.
Alive.
Then the girl said one word.
May you like
“Mommy?”
The video ended.
