Chapter 2 - The Attic in Queens
The journey through the pouring rain took twenty minutes in Edward’s private luxury towncar. Lily sat on the leather seats, her small hands gripping a warm mug of cocoa that Edward’s driver had secured, staring wide-eyed at the velvet interior.
She led Edward up three flights of creaking, water-damaged wooden stairs in a dilapidated tenement building in a forgotten pocket of Queens. The hallway smelled of damp plaster, cheap frying oil, and radiator steam.
At the very end of the top floor, Lily pushed open an unlocked wooden door. "Mommy? I came back. A nice man brought cake."
The room was tiny—an attic conversion with sloping ceilings and peeling wallpaper. A single mattress lay on the floor, covered in thin blankets. Sitting at a rickety wooden desk illuminated by a single bare bulb was Claire.
She looked paper-thin. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy knot, her cheekbones sharp, her delicate frame wrapped in a faded sweater. Sheets of architectural blueprints and design drafts covered her desk—hand-drawn plans for affordable housing projects that she was attempting to sell to local developers for pennies.
Claire turned at the sound of the door opening. "Lily, baby, I told you not to go outside in the rain—"
Her voice cut off instantly.
Her eyes met Edward’s. The air left her lungs in a sharp gasp. For five long seconds, neither of them moved. Five years of silence, bitter pride, unread letters, and stubborn anger hung between father and daughter like an insurmountable wall.
"Dad?" Claire whispered, her voice barely audible above the drumming rain against the single window pane.
"Claire," Edward said, taking a halting step into the miserable room. His expensive suit looked ridiculously out of place against the peeling paint and water-stained walls. His eyes swept over the bare room, taking in the lack of food, the tiny radiator that offered no heat, and the sheer poverty his only child had endured.
"What are you doing here?" Claire said, her tone instantly hardening as defensive pride flared in her eyes. She stood up, placing herself between Edward and her daughter. "Did you follow her? Did you come here to tell me I failed again? To tell me my architectural dreams are worthless just like you did five years ago?!"
"Claire, no..." Edward pleaded, his voice breaking. "She came into the cafe. She saw your picture."
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"I don't want your money, Dad," Claire snapped, her shoulders trembling with exhaustion and fever. "I survived five years without the Blake empire. I don't need your pity now!"
Before Edward could answer, Claire’s eyes rolled back. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the floor.
