CHAPTER 5: A Glass Stops in Midair
The sound silenced everything.
Edward stared at the child as if the past had walked into the ballroom wearing a torn coat.
“Who told you that name?” he asked.
“My mother,” Lily said. “Her name was Anna Hart. But she said that wasn’t always her name.”
Victoria moved too fast. “She’s lying.”
Edward did not look at her.
Lily reached into the pouch with shaking fingers. From inside, she pulled a folded piece of old paper, soft from being hidden too long. The edges were stained. The handwriting had blurred in places, but one line was clear.
If anything happens to me, take Lily to my father.
Edward’s knees nearly gave out.
His son Daniel stepped from the crowd, confused and angry. “Father, what is going on?”
Edward opened the locket.
Inside was a faded photograph of a young woman with soft brown hair and bright, wounded eyes. She held a newborn wrapped in a white blanket. Behind her stood a younger Edward, smiling in a way the room had not seen for years.
The crowd leaned closer.
A woman gasped.
Edward whispered, “Clara.”
Victoria raised her chin. “Anyone can fake a photograph.”
Lily flinched at her voice.
Then another voice came from the back of the room.
“No,” a man said. “Not that photograph.”
Everyone turned.
A filthy, gray-haired man stood between two servers near the ballroom doors. His coat hung from his shoulders. Rainwater dripped from his beard. He looked like he had walked out of an alley and into a palace.
Security moved toward him.
Edward lifted one hand. “Let him speak.”
May you like
The man’s eyes never left Lily.
“I took that photograph,” he said. “The night Clara ran.”
