Chapter 8 - The Grandmother's Last Secret
They spent three days in the hospital. Victoria's shoulder healed — the bullet had gone clean through, missing bone and artery by millimeters. Rose's lungs, battered by the stress and the cold, recovered slowly but surely. Lily did not leave their side. She slept in a chair between the two beds, holding one hand in each of hers.
On the third morning, Rose asked to speak to Victoria alone. Lily was in the cafeteria, getting Jell-O — she had discovered hospital Jell-O and decided it was the greatest food ever invented.
"Victoria," Rose said, her voice still weak. "There's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you the day you walked into my apartment. But I was scared. I was scared it would change everything. And now — after all this — I can't keep it in anymore."
Victoria sat down. She took Rose's hand. "Whatever it is, Rose, you can tell me. Nothing could change how I feel about you. Or about Lily."
Rose nodded. Tears came to her eyes. "It's about Anna. About how she died."
Victoria froze. "The doctors said it was a brain aneurysm. Sudden. Painless."
"That's what the doctors said. That's what the death certificate said. But, Victoria — I never believed it. Anna was healthy. She was twenty-seven. She had no history. And the night before she died — she had a fight. With a man. A man who had been following her. A man who wanted something from her."
Victoria's blood went cold. "What man? What did he want?"
"The ring," Rose whispered. "He wanted the ring. He came to the apartment. He banged on the door. He screamed that the ring belonged to his family, that Anna had stolen it. Anna called the police. He left. But that night — that night, Anna died in her sleep. And I always wondered, Victoria. I always wondered if that man — if he had something to do with it."
Victoria stared. "Who was he, Rose? What was his name?"
Rose reached under her pillow. She pulled out an envelope. Yellowed. Old. Sealed. "Anna wrote this. The night before she died. She gave it to me. She said, 'Mama, if anything happens to me, give this to Lily when she's old enough. And tell her the truth.' I never gave it to her. I was scared. I was scared of what it would do to her."
She handed the envelope to Victoria. "Read it. And then — then you decide. You decide when to tell her."
Victoria opened the envelope. Her hands were shaking. Inside was a single sheet of paper, covered in Anna's handwriting — looping, hurried, the handwriting of a woman who knew she was running out of time.
Mama, it said. If you're reading this, I'm dead. And I need you to know something. I didn't forget. Not entirely. I remembered, a little. The fire. The house. The sister with the braids. I remembered her name. Victoria. I remembered the ring. And I remembered the man who set the fire. I saw him, Mama. I saw his face. He was young. Seventeen, eighteen. He had a scar on his hand. He saw me. He chased me. I ran into the woods. I got away. But he saw me. And I think — I think he's been looking for me ever since. I think he knows I'm alive. And I think he wants the ring. Because the ring proves I'm Anna Harrington. And if I'm Anna Harrington, then the fire wasn't an accident. And his secret comes out. His name is Marcus, Mama. Marcus Blackwood. If anything happens to me, it's him. Promise me you'll protect Lily. Promise me you'll keep the ring on her. Promise me you'll find Victoria. I love you. I love you both. Always. Anna.
Victoria read the letter three times. Then she put her head in her hands and cried.
Anna had known. Anna had remembered. Anna had known who she was, who had destroyed her family, and that the man was still hunting her. And she had died — not of an aneurysm, Victoria was now certain, but because Marcus Blackwood had found her. Because he had silenced her. Because he had gotten away with murder.
For eight years.
For eight years, Rose had carried this secret. For eight years, she had watched Lily wear the ring and sell roses and grow up, and she had said nothing. Because she was scared. Because she was protecting her. Because some truths are too heavy to carry alone.
Victoria wiped her eyes. She looked at Rose. "We need to give this to the police. Now. This changes everything. This is murder. Blackwood killed Anna. He killed the nanny. He tried to kill your whole family. And he almost succeeded."
Rose nodded. "I know. I know. But, Victoria — there's one more thing. The man who came to the door. The night before Anna died. He wasn't alone. There was another man with him. Younger. I only saw him for a second. But I'll never forget his face. He had a scar across his left eyebrow."
Victoria's blood turned to ice. "Daniel Cross."
Rose nodded. "Daniel Cross. Lily's father. He was there, Victoria. He was with Blackwood. He helped him. And then — then he got Anna pregnant. And he left. And now he's back. And I think — I think Blackwood sent him. I think Blackwood has been using him all along. To get close to Lily. To get the ring. To finish what he started."
Victoria stood up. Her shoulder screamed in pain, but she did not care. She called Margaret. She called Eleanor Voss. She called the police. And then she called the one person she never thought she would call again.
Daniel Cross.
He answered. "Victoria. I heard about the shooting. You okay?"
"Daniel. I know everything. I know you were there. The night Anna died. I know you were with Blackwood. I know you helped him. And I know you know what he did to her."
There was a long silence. Then Daniel Cross sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I was there. I was a kid, Victoria. I was nineteen. Blackwood — he paid me. Five thousand dollars. To help him find her. To scare her. I didn't know he was going to — I didn't know he was going to kill her. I swear to God. I just thought we were going to scare her into giving up the ring. And then — then she was dead. And I ran. And I found out later — I found out she was pregnant. With my kid. And I've been running ever since."
"Daniel. You need to turn yourself in. You need to testify against Blackwood. You need to tell the police everything. And if you do — if you help us put him away for good — I will make sure Lily knows you tried. I will make sure she knows her father wasn't all bad. That's the best deal you're going to get. Take it."
Another silence. Then: "Okay. Okay, Victoria. I'll do it. For Lily. I'll do it for Lily."
Victoria hung up. She looked out the hospital window. The city was waking up. The news trucks were still outside — the story of the shooting, the rescue, the confession, was everywhere. People were calling it the story of the year. The billionaire, the flower girl, the ring, the fire.
But Victoria knew the real story was just beginning. Because now, there would be a trial. And at that trial, Daniel Cross would testify. And Rose would testify. And Victoria would testify. And Lily — eight years old, braver than any of them — would sit in the front row and hold her mother's ring and watch as the man who had destroyed her family finally, finally paid for what he had done.
She went back into the hospital room. Lily was there, holding two cups of Jell-O. She looked up and smiled.
"Victoria! They have cherry. Want some?"
Victoria looked at this child — her sister's child, her whole world — and she smiled back. She did not tell her about the letter. Not yet. Not today. Today, there would be Jell-O and bad television and the three of them, together, alive.
May you like
Tomorrow would come soon enough. And tomorrow, they would fight. They would fight in courtrooms and in the press and in the quiet hours of the night when the memories came. They would fight for Anna, who could not fight for herself. They would fight for every child who had ever been lost, every family that had ever been torn apart. They would fight until the name Marcus Blackwood was synonymous with defeat, and the name Anna Harrington was synonymous with hope.
But today — today, they were family. And that was enough. It was more than enough. It was everything.
