“Then how did you get here?” he asked.
“A church woman helped me. Mrs. Abigail Turner. She knew my mother. She got me a bus ticket and a fake reference. She told me that if I wanted to save the children, I had to leave first and earn enough to bring them somewhere safe.”
Emily’s eyes trembled.
“I didn’t want to leave them. Johnny cried so hard he threw up. Paul clung to my skirt. Lily didn’t understand. She thought I was going to buy candy and come back.”
Her voice cracked.
“I promised them I would send money every month. I promised I would come back for them.”
“And you did,” Nathan said.
“I tried.”
Nathan looked at her. “What do you mean?”
Emily reached toward the bedside drawer with shaking fingers and pulled out a small cloth pouch. From it she removed three folded photographs, worn soft from being touched too many times.
She handed them to Nathan.
The first photograph showed a thin boy with serious eyes standing in front of a rusted fence.
Johnny.
The second showed a smaller boy with a missing front tooth and a grin too bright for his worn clothes.
Paul.
The third showed a little girl with tangled curls holding a stuffed rabbit with one button eye.
Lily.
Nathan stared at the photos, feeling something twist inside his chest.
“They’re beautiful,” he said.
Emily pressed her lips together.
“I send money to Mrs. Turner. She keeps them hidden when Ray gets dangerous. Sometimes they stay with her. Sometimes with neighbors. Sometimes they move from place to place. Ray still thinks they’re worth money. He still tries to get them back.”
Nathan lifted his gaze slowly.
“He’s still alive?”
Emily nodded.
“And he knows where you are?”
“I don’t think so.”
But the way she said it made him uneasy.
Outside the mansion, the winter wind moved through the trees, scraping bare branches against the windows like fingernails.
Nathan looked at his wife, truly looked at her. Not the quiet maid in a plain uniform. Not the woman his mother called shame. Not the scandal whispered about over silver trays and polished floors.
Emily Carter had been fighting a war alone since she was sixteen.
And he, with all his wealth, all his power, had only seen the surface.
He reached for her hand.
This time, she let him take it.
“Tomorrow,” he said, “we bring them here.”
Emily’s eyes widened. “No.”
“Yes.”
“Nathan, you don’t understand.”
“I understand enough.”
“No, you don’t.” She pulled her hand away. “Ray isn’t just some drunk old bully. He owes dangerous people. If he finds out the children are connected to you, he’ll use them. He’ll come for money. He’ll make trouble. He’ll destroy everything.”
Nathan’s expression did not change.
“Let him try.”
Emily stood abruptly. “You sound like every man who thinks money makes him untouchable.”
The words hit him hard, but he accepted them.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
