CHAPTER 2 — The Daughter He Thought Was Dead
The cane slipped from Reginald's hand and struck the marble floor.
No one moved.
Lily's voice trembled.
"Anna Bell. She told me if I ever got lost, I should say her name and hold the heart."
Reginald's eyes filled.
"Anna," he whispered.
Then the tears came.
Not polite tears.
Not the quiet tears of a rich old man at a charity table.
He cried like a father whose dead child had just knocked from inside a grave.
Victor rushed toward him.
"Father, don't let this girl upset you."
Reginald turned on him.
His face was wet, but his voice was sharp.
"Be silent."
Victor stopped.
The entire hall went cold.
Reginald looked at Lily again.
"Where is your mother?"
Lily swallowed.
"She's sick."
"Where?"
"In a room above the laundry shop near Saint Mary's Street."
Reginald gripped the edge of a table.
"She is alive?"
Lily nodded.
"She told me not to come here. But we had no food."
The sentence tore through him.
No food.
His daughter was alive.
His granddaughter was hungry.
And he had been sitting beneath chandeliers beside enough food to feed an entire street.
Reginald turned toward the head table.
"James."
A gray-haired butler stepped forward immediately.
"Yes, sir."
"Bring her food. Now."
The guard who had tried to remove Lily lowered his eyes.
James hurried toward the kitchen.
Lily whispered:
"Can I take some to my mother too?"
Reginald closed his eyes.
Then he knelt fully on the marble floor, ignoring the pain in his knees and the gasps from the guests.
"Yes. You may take anything she needs. But first, you will take me to her."
Victor's face hardened.
"That is not wise."
Reginald slowly stood.
"What is not wise?"
Victor forced a smile.
"You are emotional. This could be a scheme. There are people who know about Anna."
Reginald stared at him.
"How would they know about the necklace?"
Victor said nothing.
"How would they know she promised to give it to her daughter?"
Victor's jaw tightened.
"People talk."
"From whom?"
Silence.
For the first time in years, Reginald looked at his eldest son not as an heir.
Not as family.
But as a man standing in front of a locked door.
And suddenly wondering what was hidden behind it.
Slowly, Reginald asked:
"Victor... how did Anna die?"
Victor blinked.
"What?"
"You told me she died overseas."
"Yes."
"Where is the death certificate?"
The room went silent.
Victor hesitated.
Only for a second.
But Reginald saw it.
"We discussed this years ago."
"Where is it?"
"It's in the family files."
"Then bring it."
"Now?"
"Now."
Every guest was watching.
Victor turned toward his assistant.
"Go get the file."
Before the assistant could move, Reginald interrupted.
"No. James will get it."
Victor's face changed.
Only slightly.
But it was enough.
Enough for Reginald to feel something terrible beginning to wake up inside him.
Minutes later, James returned carrying a leather folder.
At the same time, another servant brought Lily bread, soup, and chicken.
The little girl stared at the food as if it might disappear.
"Eat," Reginald said softly.
Lily picked up a piece of bread.
Then stopped.
"My mother first."
Reginald nearly broke again.
"Both of you."
Then he turned toward the crowd.
"This dinner is over."
Gasps spread across the room.
Guests exchanged stunned looks.
Reginald pointed toward the food.
"Pack everything. Every loaf. Every tray. Every meal."
The staff froze.
"Send it all to Saint Mary's Street tonight."
Victor stepped forward.
"You cannot empty your own birthday dinner because of one child."
Reginald looked at him.
A long look.
A dangerous look.
"One child?"
Victor swallowed.
Reginald pointed toward Lily.
"That child may be my granddaughter."
Victor answered too quickly.
"She is not."
Silence.
The certainty in his voice struck the room like a slap.
Reginald heard it.
James heard it.
Even Lily looked up.
Because Victor sounded less like a man making a guess...
and more like a man protecting a secret.
James handed over the folder.
Reginald opened it.
Inside were old documents.
Letters.
Financial records.
And a death certificate.
He stared at the date.
Then stared again.
His breathing slowed.
Something was wrong.
Very wrong.
The certificate had been issued two years after Anna supposedly died.
Reginald's hands began to shake.
James leaned closer.
His voice barely a whisper.
"Sir... the seal isn't authentic."
Victor snapped instantly.
"The butler is not a legal expert."
Reginald slowly looked up.
"No."
His voice was ice.
"But he is honest."
Victor's face turned pale.
For the first time that night...
he looked afraid.
Reginald closed the folder.
Then turned toward Lily.
"Take me to your mother."
Victor stepped directly into his path.
"You're not leaving this house with a street child."
The room froze.
Because suddenly everyone understood.
Victor wasn't afraid of Lily.
He was afraid of where Lily would lead.
Reginald's voice became frighteningly calm.
"Move."
Victor didn't.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Reginald nodded toward the head of security.
A retired Marine who had worked for him for twenty years.
"Mr. Graves."
"Sir?"
"Escort my son away from me."
Victor's eyes widened.
"Father!"
Reginald never looked at him.
"Now."
The room watched in disbelief as Victor Hawthorne—future heir, respected businessman, untouchable social figure—was physically escorted away.
And for the first time in fourteen years...
Reginald followed his heart instead of the story he had been told.
Lily clutched her necklace.
Then looked up at him.
"Can we bring soup?"
Reginald smiled through tears.
A small, broken smile.
"Yes, sweetheart."
He offered his hand.
"We'll bring soup."
And together they walked out of Hawthorne Hall.
Toward the truth.
May you like
Toward Anna.
Toward the daughter Reginald had spent fourteen years mourning.
