The boy flinched at her voice.
Sebastian noticed.
So did the older woman by the railing.
That woman was Sebastian’s mother, Vivian Vale.
For years, Vivian had carried herself with the stillness of old money and old secrets. But now her face was pale, her hand pressed against her throat.
She knew the song too.
Elena had played it once in the Vale family house, years before everything went wrong.
Claire stepped closer to Sebastian.
“That photograph could be fake. Children are used for things like this.”
The boy looked at her.
“My mom said the lady in white would say that.”
Claire’s face changed.
Only for a second.
But Sebastian saw it.
The terrace went silent again.
“What does that mean?” he asked.
Claire forced a laugh.
“Nothing. He’s repeating lines.”
The boy reached into his coat and pulled out a folded envelope.
“My mom wrote it.”
Sebastian took it.
His name was on the front.
Not typed.
Written.
In Elena’s handwriting.
His chest tightened so hard he could barely breathe.
He opened the envelope.
The first line nearly destroyed him.
Sebastian, if Leo reaches you, then I failed to stay hidden. Or I finally stopped being afraid.
He read on.
I did not leave you. I was told you had rejected me after the accident. I was told your family would take the baby if I came near you. I wrote. I called. I came to the hotel twice. Claire found me both times.
Sebastian looked up.
Claire had gone white.
Vivian sat down slowly, as if her legs could no longer h
