I hadn't heard her that excited about anything in years. She should have told me. She was going to. That's why she asked to meet you at the park. She'd written out what she wanted to say, practiced it a hundred times.
Rachel's voice broke. I spoke to her that Friday night. She was so nervous, so hopeful. She said, "Tomorrow was going to change everything. But tomorrow never came.
No, it didn't." They sat in silence for a long moment. Daniel stared at the journal on the table. Victoria's handwriting blurring through his unshed tears. "What's in there?" he finally asked. "Everything.
Her search for Lily, her feelings about you, her fears, her hopes, her regrets." Rachel pushed the journal toward him. She wanted you to have it. She wanted you to understand. Daniel picked up the journal. It felt heavier than it should have waited with 15 years of longing of loss of love that never got the chance to bloom.
"There's something else," Rachel said quietly. "Something Victoria discovered during her search. Something about you, about me, about Lily's adoption, about your sister." Daniel's blood went cold. What about Rebecca? Rachel hesitated.
Your sister was Victoria's research assistant for three months during her senior year of college. The room tilted. Daniel grabbed the edge of the table. What? Victoria didn't know at first.
When her investigator traced Lily to your family, Victoria didn't recognize your last name. But when she started researching you, she found Rebecca's employment records. Your sister worked for Victoria, Daniel, 20 years ago before the company was even called Hayes Enterprises. That's not possible. Rebecca never mentioned.
Rebecca probably didn't remember. It was a short internship, one of dozens Victoria supervised over the years. But Victoria remembered. When she realized who Rebecca was, she thought it was a sign. A sign of what?
That her daughter was meant to come back to her. that all the pain, all the searching had been leading to this moment. Rachel's eyes were wet. She used to say that Lily had been protected by your family all along. That even when Victoria couldn't be there, her daughter had been loved. Daniel opened the journal with shaking hands.
The first entry was dated 15 years ago. The handwriting younger but still recognizable. Day one of the search. I hired an investigator today. His name is Martin Cross, and he promises he can find sealed adoption records if I'm willing to pay enough.
I told him I'd pay anything. He looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I am, but I won't stop until I find her. I won't stop until I find my Lily. Daniel turned the pages, scanning entries that spanned years.
Hope giving way to frustration. Frustration giving way to despair. Despair giving way to something darker. something that read like a woman on the edge of giving up. Then six months ago, the tone changed. Martin called this morning.