Chapter 2 - The Voice Behind the Wall
Gabriel had negotiated billion-dollar contracts without his hands shaking.
He had stood before hostile shareholders, fired executives twice his age, and rebuilt a collapsing company while the press predicted his failure.
But kneeling beneath that magnolia tree, he could barely form a sentence.
"What did you say, sweetheart?"
Izzy hugged her sketchbook.
"I heard Mommy."
Gabriel fought to keep his voice steady.
"Where?"
She pointed toward the north side of the estate.
"Over there."
Beyond the gardens stood the old conservatory, a glass-and-brick building that had been closed since his father's death.
Its upper windows were dark.
A vine-covered wall separated it from the main house.
Gabriel had not entered the building in almost ten years.
"Are you sure it was your mommy?"
Izzy nodded vigorously.
"She was singing."
"What song?"
The girl lowered her eyes.
Then she began singing softly.
"Bluebird, bluebird, find your way home..."
Gabriel felt his heart stop.
Olivia had invented that song during a summer rainstorm in Vermont.
He remembered lying beside her in their tiny rented cabin while she sang it to a bird trapped beneath the porch roof.
She had made up the melody because she hated hearing frightened animals cry.
Nobody else knew that song.
Nobody.
Gabriel looked toward the conservatory.
"Did you see her?"
Izzy shook her head.
"I heard her through the little window."
"What happened next?"
"Grandma came."
The girl picked at the corner of her sketchbook.
"She said I wasn't supposed to be there."
Gabriel tried to hide the anger rising inside him.
"What did Grandma do?"
"She grabbed my arm."
Izzy pulled back her sleeve.
Four fading fingerprints marked her upper arm.
Gabriel stared.
The sight made something fierce and unfamiliar awaken in his chest.
He had spent thirty-nine years defending his mother's reputation.
Now he was looking at the marks she'd left on his daughter.
"Did she hurt you?"
Izzy shrugged.
"Only a little."
That answer hurt more than tears would have.
Gabriel held out his hand.
"May I see?"
She nodded.
He gently examined the bruises.
Then he looked directly into her eyes.
"Nobody is allowed to hurt you, Izzy."
She studied him.
"Even Grandma?"
"Especially Grandma."
The little girl seemed surprised.
Then she leaned forward.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Do you really want to be my daddy?"
Gabriel felt tears gathering again.
"More than anything in this world."
"But you're rich."
He blinked.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"Grandma says rich people don't have time for little kids."
Gabriel shook his head.
"She was wrong."
Izzy looked at his expensive jacket.
"Do you have meetings?"
"Lots of them."
"More important than me?"
"No."
He answered so quickly that she smiled.
"Not even a really big meeting?"
"Not even the biggest meeting in the world."
She considered that carefully.
Then she held out her sketchbook.
"Can you help me finish my picture?"
Gabriel accepted it.
He looked at the empty oval where his face should have been.
For a moment, he imagined six birthdays he had missed.
Six Christmas mornings.
First words.
First steps.
Feverish nights.
Scraped knees.
All the little moments that made a childhood.
He couldn't get those years back.
But he could give her this one.
"Of course."
Izzy handed him a brown crayon.
"You have to sit still."
Gabriel laughed through his tears.
"I can do that."
She climbed from the bench and stood in front of him.
Her small face became serious as she examined his features.
"You have a line right here."
She pointed between his eyebrows.
"Mommy has one when she worries."
Gabriel touched his forehead.
"That's probably because I worry too much."
Izzy giggled.
"Your nose is bigger than mine."
"It certainly is."
"And your hair is messy."
"That's because I've had a very strange evening."
She began drawing.
For several peaceful minutes, Gabriel sat beside his daughter beneath the magnolia tree while she filled in the missing face.
Then footsteps hurried across the terrace.
"Gabriel!"
Helena approached with two security guards.
Her expression was controlled again.
But Gabriel could see the panic beneath it.
"Come back inside."
He rose slowly.
Izzy immediately stepped behind him.
Gabriel noticed.
"Stay there, sweetheart."
Helena stopped several feet away.
"This has gone far enough."
Gabriel looked at the two guards.
"Leave."
One hesitated.
"Mr. Whitmore, your mother instructed—"
"I own this property."
Gabriel's voice became dangerously quiet.
"And I said leave."
The men exchanged glances and retreated.
Helena folded her arms.
"You are making a scene in front of our guests."
Gabriel almost laughed.
"That's what you're worried about?"
"Your behavior is humiliating."
He stepped toward her.
"You told my daughter her mother was dead."
Helena's expression froze.
"That girl has been filling your head with nonsense."
Gabriel pointed toward the north garden.
"Why was she hearing Olivia's voice near the conservatory?"
Helena looked away.
Only for a second.
But it was enough.
Gabriel's stomach tightened.
"Mother."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Then you won't mind if I go look."
Helena stepped into his path.
"You are not going anywhere."
Gabriel stared at her.
"Move."
"No."
For the first time in his adult life, he saw genuine fear in her eyes.
And he knew Izzy had told him the truth.
A soft voice came from behind him.
"Daddy?"
He turned.
Izzy was holding the finished drawing.
"Do I have to go back with Grandma?"
Gabriel knelt beside her.
"No."
"Promise?"
He held out his little finger.
"Promise."
She hooked her finger around his.
Then she leaned into him.
It was their first hug.
Gabriel wrapped both arms around her and pressed his face into her hair.
She smelled faintly of strawberry shampoo and colored pencils.
He had never known a human being could feel so small and so important at the same time.
He stood with Izzy in his arms.
Helena moved closer.
"Gabriel, give her to me."
"No."
"She doesn't belong here."
Gabriel's eyes hardened.
"She's my daughter."
He walked past his mother.
"She belongs wherever I am."
Inside the mansion, the gala had descended into confused silence.
Gabriel carried Izzy through the ballroom.
Three hundred people watched.
His mother followed several steps behind.
Gabriel stopped near the stage.
He took the microphone from the event coordinator.
"Good evening."
The audience went still.
"My name is Gabriel Whitmore."
He looked at the little girl in his arms.
"And this is Isabelle Bennett."
Izzy buried her face against his shoulder.
Gabriel kissed her forehead.
"She's my daughter."
A wave of whispers swept through the room.
"I learned that tonight."
He looked toward his mother.
"And I intend to find out why I wasn't told sooner."
Helena turned pale.
Several camera phones rose.
Gabriel ignored them.
"This event is over."
Then he carried Izzy upstairs to the private family wing.
Marta followed.
For the first time, the housekeeper looked hopeful.
But when Gabriel reached his old study, he found an unfamiliar man waiting near the fireplace.
The man was tall and silver-haired.
He wore a physician's badge clipped to his coat.
Helena appeared behind them.
"Gabriel, this is Dr. Simon Vale."
Gabriel recognized the name.
Vale had been the Whitmore family's private physician for more than two decades.
Gabriel hadn't seen him in years.
The doctor glanced at Izzy.
Then at Marta.
His face went pale.
"Mrs. Whitmore," he whispered, "you said the child would never come here."
Gabriel tightened his hold on his daughter.
"What child?"
Dr. Vale said nothing.
Gabriel stepped closer.
"What have you done?"
May you like
The physician's hands began to shake.
And from somewhere beyond the study wall, a woman screamed.
