Chapter 6 - The Lullaby's Secret
The next morning, the penthouse was eerily quiet. Gabriel, Victor, and Helen had departed at 6:00 AM.
Claire sat on the rug in Lily’s playroom, watching the little girl build a tower of wooden blocks. Outside, the rain had cleared, leaving a bright, crisp morning sky over Manhattan.
"Lily," Claire said gently, holding a box of colorful crayons. "Would you like to draw with me today?"
Lily looked up. For the past three days, she had drawn only black scribbles—violent, chaotic motions that expressed her inner terror. But today, she picked up a bright yellow crayon.
She began drawing a car. A large, black car.
Claire watched closely, her heart pounding in her chest. She remembered what Victor had said: The kid was in the car. She saw too much.
Lily drew the interior of the car. She drew three figures in the front and back: a woman with long hair (her mother), a little girl (herself), and a man driving.
Then, Lily picked up a red crayon and drew a red circle around the driver's seat. She drew a small, dark object in the driver's hand, pointed back toward her mother.
Claire’s breath hitched. The driver?
The official police report had stated that Gabriel’s Escalade was ambushed by an outside vehicle on the FDR Drive, with bullets penetrating the passenger windows. But Lily’s drawing showed something vastly different: the threat had been inside the car.
Lily pointed a tiny, trembling finger at the driver in her drawing.
Then, for the first time in four agonizing days, Lily’s pale lips parted.
"The lady..." Lily whispered, her voice cracked, frail, and hoarse from disuse.
Claire dropped her crayon, tears instantly springing to her eyes. She leaned in slowly, keeping her voice as gentle as a feather. "The lady, sweetheart? Which lady?"
Lily’s small body began to shake, but she pointed directly at the driver. "The lady with the red lips... she gave the man the gun... before the loud noises happened."
Claire’s mind raced like a runaway train. A lady with red lips?
Helen Vance always wore bright, signature crimson lipstick.
Helen hadn't just leaked information from the penthouse; she had been inside the lead security escort car—or inside the Escalade itself—during the ambush. She had personally handed the weapon to the assassin who killed Gabriel’s wife!
Before Claire could digest the horror of the realization, the electronic lock on the playroom door chimed with a sharp beep.
The heavy door swung open.
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Standing in the doorway was not Gabriel, nor his trusted guards.
It was Helen Vance, holding a silver silenced pistol, her face completely calm, her deep red lipstick standing out sharply against her pale skin.
