Chapter 1: The Girl Who Called Me Daddy
“Please… give me my daddy back!””
Those were the words that stopped my wedding before I could place a ring on my bride’s finger.
For two years, I had believed I was finally getting a second chance at happiness. I had rebuilt my life, buried the painful memories of my past, and convinced myself that the woman standing beside me in a white wedding gown was the person I could trust with everything.
I was wrong.
The church doors burst open.
The wedding music stopped halfway through the melody. Three hundred guests turned toward the entrance as a little girl came running down the aisle.
She was barefoot.
Her white dress was dirty, one sleeve was torn, and her knees were covered in scratches. Her dark hair hung in tangled strands around her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
She looked about seven years old.
And she was staring directly at me.
“Daddy!””
The word struck me harder than a physical blow.
My fingers went numb.
The wedding ring slipped between my fingers, nearly falling onto the polished floor.
“Lily?”” I whispered.
The little girl stopped in front of me.
For a second, she simply stared.
Then her lower lip trembled.
“You remember my name.””
I couldn't breathe.
My bride, Brielle, immediately grabbed my arm.
“Marcus, don't listen to her.””
Her voice was low, but the panic underneath it was unmistakable.
“She's confused. Someone needs to take her outside.””
I turned toward Brielle.
“Do you know this child?””
“No.””
Her answer came too quickly.
Lily grabbed the bottom of my tuxedo jacket.
“Daddy, please. Don't let her take you again.””
The guests began whispering.
My mother, sitting in the front row, stood up so abruptly that her chair scraped against the floor.
“What is going on?”” she demanded.
Brielle turned toward the security guard standing near the entrance.
“Please remove this child. She's disrupting a private ceremony.””
Lily shook her head.
“No! I need my daddy!””
I gently crouched in front of her.
“Sweetheart, look at me. Where is your mother?””
Her expression changed.
She looked down at her dirty shoes, although she wasn't wearing any.
“Mommy told me to find you.””
“Where is she?””
Lily swallowed.
“She said you might not remember her.””
A strange sensation moved through my chest.
I knew that voice.
Not Lily's.
Her mother's.
Seven years ago, I had known a woman named Hannah.
Hannah was the kind of woman who laughed with her entire face. She loved old bookstores, terrible coffee, and singing along to songs even when she didn't know the words.
She had been my first love.
My best friend.
The woman I had planned to marry.
Then, one rainy night, she disappeared.
Her car was found near an abandoned road outside the city. There was blood on the driver's seat, a broken window, and no sign of her body.
The police eventually declared her presumed dead.
I never received a body to bury.
I never received a final goodbye.
I only received a funeral and a lifetime of unanswered questions.
Six months after her disappearance, I left our old home and tried to start again.
And now a little girl was standing in front of me, calling me Daddy.
“Marcus,” Brielle whispered.
I looked up.
She was smiling again, but her fingers were digging into my sleeve.
“Please don't make this worse. We can discuss this privately.””
“Who is she?””
“I told you. I don't know.””
Lily suddenly reached into the pocket of her dress.
She pulled out a small photograph.
It was folded several times, its edges worn and yellow.
“Mommy said you would know.””
I took it.
My heart seemed to stop.
The photograph showed me standing outside a little yellow house.
I was younger, probably twenty-eight.
Hannah stood beside me.
But someone had scratched her face out so aggressively that the paper was almost torn.
Behind us stood Brielle.
Not the Brielle I knew from two years ago.
The Brielle from seven years ago.
She wore a black coat and stood near the front porch, looking directly at the camera.
I turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
The night everything changed. September 14.
My wedding was scheduled for November 14.
I looked at Brielle.
“Why are you in this photograph?””
She stared at it.
For a moment, the color drained from her face.
Then she reached for it.
“Give me that.””
I pulled my hand away.
“No.””
“Marcus, you don't understand.””
“Then explain.””
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Lily tugged my sleeve.
“Mommy said you would ask her that.””
I turned toward the child.
“What else did your mother say?””
Lily glanced at Brielle.
“She said not to let her take the little key.””
My gaze followed Lily's finger toward the bouquet on the table beside the altar.
Something silver was tucked beneath the white roses.
I walked over and lifted the flowers.
There it was.
A small silver key tied with a thin ribbon.
Brielle took a step backward.
“Marcus, don't.””
I picked it up.
Three words had been engraved on its surface.
*FOR LILY'S MOTHER ONLY.*
My hands started shaking.
“Brielle, what is this?””
She looked at me.
And for the first time since I had known her, I saw something in her eyes that I had never seen before.
Fear.
“Don't open anything with that key,” she whispered.
“Why?””
“Because some things are better left buried.””
The church fell silent.
I looked at Lily.
“Where did you get this?””
She shook her head.
“Mommy gave it to me.””
“Where is she now?””
Lily's eyes filled with tears again.
“She told me to come here if she didn't come back.””
A cold sensation crept up my spine.
“What do you mean, if she didn't come back?””
Before Lily could answer, my phone began vibrating inside my jacket.
An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen.
I almost ignored it.
Then the call connected.
A woman's voice came through.
Weak.
Breathless.
And painfully familiar.
“Marcus?””
My knees nearly gave way.
“Who is this?””
There was a long silence.
Then the woman whispered three words.
“It's me. Hannah.””
I gripped the phone.
“Where are you?””
“Listen carefully. You have to get Lily away from Brielle.””
I looked at my bride.
She was staring at the phone as if she could hear every word.
“Hannah, where have you been? Are you alive?””
A shaky breath came through the speaker.
“I don't have much time. She knows Lily found you.””
“Who?””
The answer came so quietly I almost missed it.
“Your bride.””
Then the line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Behind me, Brielle began crying.
Not the delicate tears of a woman whose wedding had been ruined.
These were different.
She covered her mouth and looked toward the church doors.
“Marcus,” she said, “please let me explain.””
I turned.
“Explain what? That the woman I buried seven years ago just called me?””
She shook her head.
“No. Not that.””
Her eyes moved toward Lily.
“Explain why I spent the last seven years trying to keep that woman away from you.””
And then my mother spoke from the front row.
“Brielle…”
Her voice was barely audible.
Everyone turned toward her.
My mother was holding the edge of the pew so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
“I thought we agreed,” she whispered.
Brielle closed her eyes.
And suddenly, I understood something terrifying.
May you like
My mother knew.
She had known all along.
