Chapter 3 - THE NAME SHE FEARED
Michael stared at Lily.
“My brother?”
Lily nodded.
“But I don't have a brother.”
She looked confused.
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
“Daniel.”
Michael's entire body went still.
Daniel Hartman.
His younger brother.
The man who had spent the last six months managing Hartman Mining while Michael disappeared into grief.
The man who had repeatedly urged Michael to sell several of the company's divisions.
The man who had told him, more than once, that he needed to stop living in the past.
Michael slowly turned toward Eleanor.
“Do you know what she's talking about?”
Eleanor looked frightened.
“Sir…”
“Answer me.”
Eleanor lowered her eyes.
“I've heard the name Lily before.”
“From whom?”
She hesitated.
“Your wife.”
Michael stopped breathing.
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three weeks before the accident.”
Michael felt the room tilt.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
“Because Emily made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“That if anything happened to her, I was never to tell you unless the right person came looking.”
Michael looked at Lily.
“The right person?”
Lily stared at him.
“You.”
Michael knelt.
“Lily, did you know Emily?”
The girl nodded.
“She came to see my mom.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“When?”
“Before Mommy died.”
Michael's heart pounded.
“What was your mother's name?”
Lily hesitated.
“Sarah.”
Michael's face changed.
Sarah.
The name struck a memory.
Emily had once mentioned a woman named Sarah Monroe.
Only once.
Michael had been too distracted by a business meeting to ask who she was.
Now he wished he could go back in time and listen to every word his wife had ever spoken.
“What happened to Sarah?”
Lily's eyes dropped.
“She got sick.”
“And then?”
“She died.”
Michael swallowed.
“Who took care of you?”
“No one.”
The answer was almost too quiet to hear.
“People moved me around.”
“Who?”
“I don't know their names.”
“Men?”
She nodded.
“They said my mom owed money.”
Michael's jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“I don't know.”
Eleanor stepped forward.
“Sir, perhaps we should call someone.”
Michael turned.
“No police.”
“But—”
“No.”
He looked at Lily.
“Not until I know exactly what's happening.”
Lily suddenly grabbed his sleeve.
“Don't let them take me.”
Michael looked at her small hand.
“No one is taking you.”
“They said you would.”
“Who?”
“The men.”
“What men?”
Lily whispered.
“The men who work for Daniel.”
Michael's blood ran cold.
That night, Michael didn't sleep.
Lily slept in the guest bedroom with Hope tucked beneath her chin.
Two security guards stood outside.
Michael sat in his study, staring at the photograph of Emily.
He turned it over.
Nothing.
Then he remembered something.
Emily had always written notes on the backs of photographs.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a stack.
Wedding.
Vacation.
Christmas.
Hospital.
He searched desperately.
Then he found one.
A photograph of Emily standing outside a small clinic.
On the back were six handwritten words.
“Michael must never trust Daniel.”
Michael stared at them.
His hands began to shake.
He read them again.
Then again.
Someone knocked.
Eleanor entered.
“Sir?”
Michael held up the photograph.
“Why didn't you tell me about this?”
Eleanor's face collapsed.
“I was afraid.”
“Of Daniel?”
She nodded.
Michael stood.
“What happened three weeks before Emily died?”
Eleanor took a deep breath.
“Emily came home late one night.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she had discovered something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Eleanor.”
“She wouldn't tell me.”
Michael walked toward her.
“What did she give you?”
Eleanor looked shocked.
“I didn't say she gave me anything.”
“You just said you were afraid. Why?”
Eleanor slowly reached into her pocket.
Then removed a small brass key.
Michael stared.
“What is that?”
“Emily gave it to me.”
“When?”
“The morning before she died.”
Michael took it.
“What does it open?”
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
“I don't know.”
Michael turned the key over.
There were tiny letters engraved on it.
H.M.
Hartman Mining.
Then Lily screamed upstairs.
Michael and Eleanor ran.
The bedroom door was open.
The bed was empty.
“Lily!”
Michael searched the bathroom.
Closet.
Hallway.
Nothing.
Then he saw the window.
Open.
The curtains moved in the cold night air.
Michael ran downstairs.
Outside, one of his security guards was lying unconscious beside the driveway.
The other was gone.
Michael's heart stopped.
“Lily!”
A car engine roared somewhere beyond the gates.
Michael sprinted toward the road.
Headlights disappeared into the darkness.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Michael answered.
A man's voice spoke calmly.
“You should have left the girl where you found her.”
Michael clenched his fist.
“Who is this?”
“You don't understand what you've brought into your house.”
“Where is she?”
A pause.
Then:
“Ask your brother.”
The call ended.
Michael immediately dialed Daniel.
No answer.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Michael looked at Eleanor.
“We're going to Daniel's house.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Sir, you can't.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel doesn't live there anymore.”
Michael stopped.
“What?”
“He moved three months ago.”
“To where?”
Eleanor whispered:
“That's what Emily was investigating.”
Michael looked toward the dark road.
For the first time since his wife's death, the numbness disappeared.
It was replaced by something else.
May you like
Rage.
And Michael Hartman was very dangerous when he was angry.
