Chapter 5
My eyes snap open, throat tight, pulse pounding in my ears. I stare up at the ceiling and rest my hand on my chest. I pull air slowly through my nose then out my mouth. My pulse steadies and quiets.
Morning light filters through the hospital blinds. I turn and spot Maeve curled up in the chair beside my bed, a blanket covering her.
I turn my head and spot the phone, sitting innocuously on the table. I stare at it. My nerves hum under my skin.
I chew on my lower lip then reach over and grab it. Before I can think too much about it, I’m typing in his name. The results load fast.
Lucian Ashthorne
CEO of Ashthorne Global Security, Major shareholder in multiple tech and logistics companies.
There’s a photo of him in a suit, clean cut, jaw set like stone, shaking hands with an older man. Another in a black jacket, standing beside a tactical vehicle.
I scroll further. There’s an old article — Man Offers $1 Million Reward for Missing Daughter. The photo of me is so young I barely recognize myself. I’m smiling from ear to ear, no shadows to be seen. My hair is shiny and neat.
It’s such a stark contrast to school photos I remember taking and seeing the proofs of. I rarely smiled, always circles under my eyes, my hair barely tamed.
They list the date I vanished. My name. My age. The comments flooded with theories, thoughts, and prayers.
He never stopped. He really did look for me.
I sit with that for a minute, then glance towards the door. I’m ready, at least more than I was.
Maeve groans and stretches in the chair, giving me a sleepy smile.
“Whatcha doing?”
“I was Googling him.”
“Ooh. Stalker time, huh? Find anything good?”
I shrug. “I saw news reports about me going missing, more about his company and things, but nothing gossip worthy.”
“Hm, shame.” She yawns, bundling her blanket around her before climbing onto my bed.
We spend some time chatting. About nothing and everything. My mind keeps trying to wander off and I have to ground myself in the moment.
We’re laughing at a show when there’s a soft, measured knock.
Maeve glances at me. I nod once, and she rises to open the door.
Lucian steps in quietly. He’s dressed in the same dark coat, though his shirt is different today, crisp, collar unbuttoned. Like he didn’t sleep but still wanted to look composed.
His eyes land on me first.
Maeve gives me a quick look — you good? — and I nod again. She slips out.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” he echoes, voice warm but cautious. He stays near the door. “You sure you’re up for this?”
“Yeah,” I say. My voice feels a little steadier now. “Sit?”
He crosses the room to the chair Maeve left behind and lowers himself, elbows resting on his knees. Like he’s unsure how to bridge the gap.
“Are you alright?”
“I think so.” I hesitate, then glance toward the tray table where the phone rests. “I Googled you.”
His mouth quirks. “I figured.”
“There’s a lot about you out there. Security company, military, reward money. You’ve got… quite the reputation.”
Lucian nods. “Most of it’s true.”
“But none of it’s you.” I meet his eyes. “I don’t want the press version. I want the one real you. My… dad.”
Something shifts behind his eyes, a flicker of emotion that sharpens his eyes, then smooths away.
He nods once. Slow. “Alright.”
My hands fidget in my lap. “So… tell me something. Not about your job. Just… who you are. When you’re not being CEO Ashthorne.”
He leans back, humming and looking up at the ceiling. “I hate loud parties. I like to cook, but I don’t know how to make that many things. I don’t sleep much. I drink black coffee, usually too much of it.”
He pauses, then adds, “I still keep the drawing you made of a pirate ship. Crayons and finger paint. It’s in my office.”
“Seriously?”
He nods. “It’s a terrible drawing.”
A startled laugh breaks out of me. “How old was I?”
“You were four.” He smiles, tilting his head. “You labeled the cannonballs. ‘Booms.’”
A giggle bubbles out. Lucian watches me like he’s memorizing this moment.
“You can ask me anything,” he says. “And if I don’t know the answer yet, I’ll find it. For you.”
I look at him. Really look.
“I don’t remember much. Just flashes. A warm place. A laugh. The sound of someone humming off-key.”
Lucian doesn’t interrupt. He just waits.
“The main memory I remember was you making waffles in the morning and mom singing along to the radio.”
Lucian smiles. “I’d make waffles every Sunday. It was a tradition my parents had with me that I wanted to continue.”
I smile. “You said your mom died; is your dad still alive?”
Lucian shakes his head, letting out a heavy exhale. “No, they both died in a car accident.”
“I’m sorry.” My brows furrow.
“It’s alright, it happened a long time ago.”
We’re both silent for a moment.
“What was it like before? When we were… us. All together.”
His expression changes, softens with something that might be grief, or longing. Or both.
“You were always awake before the sun,” he says after a moment. “Used to crawl into bed with me just to watch the light come through the blinds. You had this little stuffed bear, mangy thing. You named it Monster.”
“Sounds about right.”
“You were loud when you were happy, and quiet when something was wrong. You always knew when something was wrong.”
He shifts in the chair. “You hated wearing shoes. You ran barefoot down every hallway, every park path.”
“I still do,” I murmur. “Well, I would if the paths weren’t covered with broken glass and needles.”
Lucian’s smile dims.
“What about her?” I ask. “What was she like… before?”
He’s quiet for a long time. “She was bright,” he says after a long pause. “Fun. Reckless, sometimes. But she loved you. I never doubted that.”
“But she left.”
His eyes meet mine. “She ran.”
Right. It’s something I’ll need to get used to.
“She didn’t even take any of your things,” he adds. “No records. Just you.”
I swallow hard, my throat thick.
“I used to think maybe you didn’t want me,” I whisper. “That maybe I wasn’t enough to come back for.”
Lucian’s voice is rough when he says, “That was never true. You’re my daughter. You were the only thing I ever wanted back.”
I sit with his words, letting them settle like dust in my chest.
Then I look at him, at the man with the iron-straight posture and the weariness buried in his eyes. The stranger who isn’t quite a stranger anymore.
“What about now?” I ask. “What’s your life like?”
Lucian tilts his head a little, raises his eyebrows. “Now?”
“Yeah. After me. Without me.”
He exhales slowly, leaning back in the chair. “I live in Ashthorne Hall. The place is too big and too cold, but it keeps the city out. It’s been in the Ashthorne family for generations.”
“Do you live alone?”
There’s a pause. He doesn’t flinch. But he does lower his eyes. “No,” he says. “Not anymore.”
I go very still.
“I did. For a long time. After you disappeared, it was hard to stay in that house. Too many memories. Too much silence.” He flexes his hand on the armrest.
“A few years went by. I kept working. Kept searching. That’s all it was. And then, there was a contractual agreement I needed to meet to keep my position.”
“So, you got married… for business?” Lucian was a powerful man, a CEO. “I’m guessing a contractual agreement came into play to keep some sort of image up for your company.”
Lucian gave a dry, almost-smile. “Yes. In part. It wasn’t some grand love story. Adrienne and I. She understood the arrangement. She’d lost her husband years before. I’d lost you. It made sense on paper.”
He paused, looking down at his hands briefly, before looking back up to meet my eyes.
“She has a daughter. Dakota. She’s your age. She was 9 when we got married.”
He must see the flicker in my expression because he rushes in with, “She’s not a replacement. I need you to hear me when I say that. No one could ever replace you, Gracie.”
I nod, letting it sink in, the shape of this new life he tried to build in the ruins of the one he lost.
“Does she know about me?” I ask after a beat.
“She does. I told her I was coming to see you last night.”
“And how did that go?” I bite the inside of my cheek.
“She was excited.” Lucian’s gaze softens. “She’s always known about you. Dakota used to ask about you, even when we didn’t have any answers.”
“What’s she like?” The question escapes before I can stop it.
“She’s strong-willed. Ambitious. A little dramatic. She’s a dancer, so that comes with the territory. But she’s kind, bubbly. I think…” He hesitates. “I think you’ll like her.”
I blink, not sure what to do with that — this girl, my age, a stranger who’s known my name for years. I don’t know how to feel about any of this — this entire family I never knew about, this version of Lucian who seems steadier than the ghost I imagined for years.
I’m not mad. Not exactly. I just suddenly feel… behind. Like they’ve all lived a hundred lives while I was trying to survive just one.
“She’s had everything,” I whisper.
“Not true, she went through hardships of her own, losing her father at a young age,” Lucian says.
That surprises me. So much that I actually look at him again.
“She’ll want to meet you,” he adds, quieter now. “It might not be perfect. But I’d like you to have that choice.”
Choice. There’s that word again. I sit with that word. Let it expand in my chest.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to meet her,” I say.
“I’d be surprised if you were.”
We sit there in a silence that feels like a beginning.
When Maeve returns, Lucian and I have settled into a comfortable conversation. We cover the lighter topics and just take the time to get to know each other. Lucian orders us lunch and it’s a hundred times better than the hospital food.
When Brenda comes after work, she brings us all dinner and Lucian helps her set out the food containers and portion them onto paper plates.
“I feel like today has been quite the eye opener,” Maeve whispers.