Chapter 22
I folded Daniel’s letter and returned it to the envelope.
“We’re going to the shipping office tonight.”
Alexander immediately said, “No.”
I looked at him.
“This time I’m not asking.”
He opened his mouth, then stopped.
Marian rose.
“I should go with you.”
“No,” I said. “You’ve done enough for tonight.”
“I know the office. I worked there before I came to the estate.”
Rebecca moved beside me.
“I’m coming too.”
Alexander’s gaze shifted between us.
“This is not a decision for everyone to make independently.”
“Then make it with us,” I said. “Not for us.”
A long silence followed.
Finally, he nodded.
“We go together. Nora remains here with Mother and Ethan. The security team comes, but no one enters until we know what we’re dealing with.”
It was a reasonable plan.
I almost smiled.
“Look at that,” I said. “You can listen.”
He gave me the faintest smile in return.
Before we left, I found Ethan by the Christmas tree. He was sitting on the rug, the embroidered star resting in his palm.
“I’m going out for a while,” I told him.
“Where?”
“To find some answers.”
“Are you coming back?”
The question was simple. The answer mattered more than anything else.
“Yes.”
He searched my face.
“Promise?”
“I promise I will come back. And when I do, I’ll tell you what I can.”
He stood and hugged me.
Alexander watched from the doorway.
When Ethan released me, he looked at his father.
“Bring her back.”
Alexander nodded.
“I will.”
The old shipping office stood near the river, its brick facade dark beneath the winter sky. The lower floors had been converted into storage years earlier, but the upper windows remained unlit.
A side entrance opened with the key Rebecca carried.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and cold metal. Our footsteps echoed up the stairs.
Marian led us to the third floor.
“This was Daniel’s office,” she whispered.
The door stood open.
A desk, a filing cabinet, and a row of empty bookshelves remained inside. Snow pressed against the windows. On the desk sat a small lamp and a stack of folders.
Someone had been there recently.
Alexander raised his hand, stopping us.
A voice came from the adjoining room.
“You took your time.”
Elena Russo stepped into view.
She looked thinner than I remembered, her dark hair streaked with gray. She wore a charcoal coat and carried no bag. Her expression held exhaustion rather than fear.