Chapter 6
The rain began to fall again, drumming a heavy, relentless beat against the glass roof of the Vance estate's conservatory. Inside, the room was a lush jungle of exotic ferns and towering orchids, illuminated only by the pale, diffused glow of the evening fog pressing against the greenhouse panels.
Lily sat alone on a wrought-iron bench near the central fountain, her small legs swinging slightly above the damp flagstone floor. She clutched the worn cloth doll tightly against her chest, her thumb tracing the thick, uneven stitches along the doll's back where her mother's hurried needlework had mended a torn seam.
Footsteps crunched softly on the gravel path behind her. Lily didn't turn around; she already knew the heavy, measured cadence. A shadow fell over the bench as Derek stepped into her field of vision. He had removed his suit jacket, his black shirt unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the pale column of his throat and the jagged red scratch stretching down from his left jawline.
Derek sat down beside her, the iron bench groaning slightly under his weight. He did not touch her immediately. Instead, he rested his forearms on his knees, staring intently into the dark foliage across the pathway.
"Lily," Derek said, his voice softer now, stripped of the harsh authority he used in public. "Do you remember the night before last in the upstairs hallway?"
The little girl stiffened, her small shoulders drawing inward. She stared down at the mosaic tiles beneath her feet, refusing to meet his dark gaze. "I was in my room," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the indoor fountain.
"You told the police officers a very specific story at the chapel," Derek continued, his tone remaining infuriatingly calm, like a teacher guiding a stubborn student through a math problem. "You said Uncle Derek hurt Mommy, and Grandma took her phone. But you know that isn't what happened, don't you, Lily? Mommy was very sick. Her heart stopped because she took too many of her sleeping pills. We tried to help her. Grandma called the ambulance."
Lily slowly turned her head, her bright blue eyes flashing with a sudden, fierce defiance that shocked him. "Grandma wasn't there! She was in her room! I heard Mommy screaming from the stairs! I saw you push her against the study door, Daddy! And then Grandma came out with the phone and said I had to go to sleep or the bad men would take me away!"
Derek’s jaw tightened, the muscle ticking violently beneath his skin. The calm facade cracked for a fraction of a second, revealing the cold, calculating fury underneath. He reached out, his large hand closing gently but firmly over Lily’s small wrist, right where she held the doll.
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"Imagination is a dangerous thing for a little girl, Lily," Derek murmured, leaning in close so his breath brushed her ear. "It makes you say things that ruin lives. It makes people think you need to be sent away to a special school where you won't see your family ever again."
Lily bit her lower lip to keep from crying, refusing to give him the satisfaction of tears. But her fingers loosened slightly on the doll, the secret burden hidden inside its cotton-stuffed body pressing against her palm.
