Chapter 3 - Shadows of the Past
By 3:00 AM, the hospital had fallen into a quiet, rhythmic hush.
James had moved Lily to a private suite connected to the Intensive Care Unit. The little girl slept soundly on a plush bed, holding her teddy bear, guarded by two of Marcus's best security personnel stationed outside the door.
James stood behind the glass partition of the ICU, watching the steady rise and fall of Rebecca’s chest. Tubes and monitors surrounded her, but despite the pallor of her skin, she looked angelic under the dim medical light.
"I'm so sorry, Becca," James whispered against the cold glass. "I was so blind."
Marcus walked up quietly behind him, holding a thick black folder. "Boss. We ran the background check on Rebecca's last five years, and we pulled the street camera footage from 42nd Street."
James didn't turn around. "Tell me."
"When she left five years ago, she moved to a small town in upstate New York," Marcus explained. "She worked two jobs—one at a local restoration firm and another framing prints at a craft store. Her father passed away three years ago from illness, which wiped out her small savings. She gave birth to Lily four years ago in a public clinic."
James felt his heart clench with pain. "She did all of that alone?"
"Yes, sir. Six months ago, she moved back to the city to take an assistant restorer position at the Metropolitan Heritage Gallery. She was barely making rent on a tiny basement apartment in Queens. She didn't accept a single cent from anyone."
"And the hit-and-run?" James asked, his voice hardening.
Marcus opened the folder, pulling out several printed still frames from high-definition city surveillance. "The car that struck her was a blacked-out SUV with stolen plates. But look at the timing, sir. The vehicle was idling near her gallery for three hours before she stepped out. When she crossed the street with Lily, the car accelerated directly toward them."
James turned around, his eyes locking onto the photo. "She threw herself in front of the car to save Lily."
"Yes," Marcus confirmed. "She pushed the little girl onto the sidewalk just before impact. But look at this detail from the camera down the block, twenty minutes before the crash."
Marcus zoomed in on a frame showing a man standing at a corner phone booth near the gallery. He wore a dark raincoat, but his side profile was clear.
James gasped quietly. "Julian Vance."
Julian was Richard Carter's chief legal fixer—the man who handled the family's dirtiest off-the-books operations.
"Richard didn't just find out about her today," James realized, his voice cold as ice. "He found out she was back in New York with my daughter. He tried to eliminate them before I ever knew they existed."
"It appears that way, sir," Marcus said grimly. "If Julian was involved, your father ordered the hit."
James closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep, steadying breath. When he opened them, all emotion had been replaced by a ruthless determination.
"Marcus, contact the District Attorney. Tell him I have evidence of attempted murder involving high-level corporate figures. But tell him to hold off on arrests until I give the word. I want Julian watched 24/7. Let him think he succeeded."
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"And your father, sir?"
"Let Richard prepare for his board meeting tomorrow," James said with a dark smile. "He thinks he's going to strip me of power. I'm going to give him the show of his life."
