Chapter 170
Lena's POV
David caught Derek's wrist in an iron grip, his expression neutral but his stance unmistakably threatening. "I'm going to need you to step back, sir."
Derek released me immediately, stumbling backward, his face a mask of shock and fury. "Who the hell are you?"
"Someone who's going to escort you away from here if you can't keep your hands to yourself," David said mildly.
I stared at David, my shock giving way to a complicated tangle of emotions I didn't have time to unpack. Of course Rowan had sent him. Of course he'd arranged for David to shadow us, to keep me safe whether I'd asked for it or not.
Emily appeared at my elbow, her voice calm but firm. "Mr. Walsh, we're not here to cause problems. We're trying to find Lily's mother."
That stopped him cold. He looked between us, his breathing ragged, his fists still clenched at his sides. Behind him, Lily stood frozen, her small face pale and frightened.
"We just want to talk," I added quietly. "That's all. No police, no lawyers, no trouble for you or Lily."
Derek's jaw worked, his gaze darting toward his daughter and then back to me. Finally, through gritted teeth, he said, "You're not here to tell her about... about what I did?"
The fear in his voice was almost painful to hear. He'd built a new life, constructed some version of normalcy for his daughter, and now I stood there with the power to tear it all down with a few words.
"No," I said firmly. "I'm not here to tell her anything."
He studied my face for a long moment, searching for the lie, the trap. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him because his shoulders dropped fractionally, some of the fight draining out of him.
"There's a coffee shop two blocks from here," he said finally, his voice rough. "We can talk there."
---
The café was nearly empty, the afternoon lull leaving us with our choice of tables. Derek chose one in the back corner, positioning himself so he could see the door, and I noticed the way his eyes never stopped moving, always scanning, always calculating. Prison had taught him to be vigilant.
Lily sat between him and the wall, her small hands wrapped around a cup of hot chocolate that Derek had ordered without asking if she wanted it. She hadn't spoken since we'd left the school, hadn't looked at me or Emily, and I could feel the weight of her silence like a physical thing.
"So," Derek said, his voice tight. "What do you want to know?"
I chose my words carefully. "Maria. When did she leave?"
"More than a year ago." His jaw clenched. "Right before I got out. Sent me a letter saying she couldn't do it anymore, that I should take Lily and give her a better life."
"And you believed that?"
His eyes flashed. "What was I supposed to believe? She was gone. Lily needed a parent. So I stepped up."
"Even though you were angry," I said quietly.
"Of course I was angry." His voice cracked slightly. "But I was also... grateful. She could have just left Lily in the system, let some stranger take her. Instead, she made sure I knew where to find my daughter." He glanced at Lily, and something in his expression softened. "That has to count for something."
Emily leaned forward slightly. "Has Lily had any medical issues? Surgeries, hospitalizations?"
Derek frowned. "No. Why? Nothing wrong with her health. She's just not very social."
"Just trying to understand the full picture," I said, keeping my tone neutral. "When was the last time she saw a doctor?"
"Two months ago, when she had a cold. They did a full checkup—everything came back normal." His frown deepened. "What's this really about, Ms. Grant?"
I hesitated, weighing my options. But before I could answer, Derek's phone buzzed. He glanced at it and swore under his breath.
"I have to get home," he said abruptly. "Make dinner, help with homework." He stood, already reaching for his wallet. "If that's all—"
"Actually," I said quickly, "would it be all right if we spent a little time with Lily? Just to chat, maybe play for a bit. Emily's a therapist—she works with children. You mentioned Lily's been... reserved. Sometimes kids open up more easily with someone neutral."
Derek's expression flickered—suspicion warring with something that might have been hope. "You're not going to—"
"No," I cut him off gently. "I promise. We just want to make sure she's okay."
He looked down at Lily, who was staring into her hot chocolate as if it held the secrets of the universe. For a long moment, he didn't speak.
Then, quietly, he said, "You know, I don't blame you for what happened. I did that to myself. You were just doing your job."
The admission caught me off guard. "Mr. Walsh—"
"Half an hour," he said, meeting my eyes. "You can come by the apartment. But that's it."
"Thank you," I said, and meant it.
---
Derek's apartment was exactly what I'd expected—small, clean, functional. The kind of place that spoke of limited resources stretched as far as they could go. Lily's room was at the end of a narrow hallway, decorated with pastel curtains and a bookshelf crammed with well-worn paperbacks.
Derek left for the kitchen after a brief, awkward exchange, leaving Emily and me alone with Lily. She sat on the edge of her bed, her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor.
Emily settled onto the carpet, making herself smaller, less intimidating. "Lily, your dad told us you like to read. What's your favorite book?"
A tiny shrug, barely perceptible.
"That's okay, you don't have to answer if you don't want to." Emily's voice was soft, unhurried. "I like books too. Especially the ones with strong girls in them. Have you read Matilda?"
Lily's eyes flicked up briefly—interest, or maybe recognition. A small nod.
"She's pretty brave, isn't she?" Emily continued, as if they were just having a normal conversation. "Even when things are hard, she figures out how to be okay."
I watched from the chair by Lily's desk, letting Emily take the lead. This was her expertise, not mine. I'd learned long ago that pushing too hard, too fast, only made people shut down.
"Your dad seems really nice," Emily said after a moment. "I can tell he cares about you a lot."
Another nod, this one slightly more certain.
"And I bet you care about him too." Emily paused, giving Lily space to respond. When she didn't, Emily shifted gears gently. "You know what I do for my job, Lily? I help people talk about things that are hard to say. Things that feel too big or too scary to put into words."
Lily's hands tightened in her lap, but she didn't look away this time.
"Sometimes," Emily continued, "people tell us to keep secrets. And sometimes those secrets are good—like surprise birthday parties, or presents we don't want someone to know about. But other times, secrets feel heavy. Like they're pressing down on us, making it hard to breathe."
Lily's breathing hitched almost imperceptibly.