CHAPTER 2 — THE LAST PROMISE
My heart pounded so violently that I was certain Lily would hear it.
Every instinct screamed at me to sit up and confess that the entire thing had been a cruel test.
But I couldn't move.
Not after what she'd just said.
Not after hearing my mother's name.
Lily's trembling fingers unlocked her old phone. The screen was cracked across one corner, and it took her two attempts before the gallery finally opened.
She whispered through tears.
"I'm sorry, Mrs. Reyes... I couldn't keep him safe."
My stomach tightened.
She wasn't talking to me.
She was talking to my mother.
The first image appeared.
It was taken inside a hospital room.
My mother looked pale, noticeably thinner than I remembered during her final months, but her smile was unmistakable.
Beside her stood a much younger Lily.
No older than sixteen.
Her hair was tied back awkwardly, her clothes looked inexpensive, and she held a bouquet of wildflowers with both hands like she didn't know whether she deserved to be in the room.
I had never seen this photograph before.
Never.
Lily gently touched the screen.
"You always said he'd never believe me if I told him."
She gave a broken laugh.
"You were right."
Another swipe.
This time it wasn't a picture.
It was a video.
She hesitated.
"I don't think I can watch this again..."
Then she pressed play.
The sound of my mother's voice filled the silent living room.
Weak.
Fragile.
Yet somehow warmer than anything I'd heard in years.
"If you're seeing this, sweetheart..."
Lily immediately covered her mouth.
She had watched this recording before.
Many times.
"...then I suppose Alexander is still too stubborn to slow down."
A faint laugh escaped my mother's lips.
Even lying motionless on the floor, I felt tears burning behind my eyelids.
"I know my son."
"He hides pain behind work."
"He trusts contracts more than people."
"And one day he'll wake up surrounded by everything money can buy... and no one who truly loves him."
Every word struck like a hammer.
How had she known?
Because it was exactly what had happened.
My company had grown into a billion-dollar empire.
My marriage had failed.
My closest friends had disappeared after business disagreements.
My father had died years earlier.
Every holiday, every birthday, every achievement...
I celebrated alone.
The video continued.
"Lily..."
My mother's voice softened.
"If you're watching this without me... then thank you."
The young girl in the video immediately began crying.
"You've already done more for our family than you'll ever understand."
"I know Alexander won't recognize you."
"He rarely noticed the people quietly helping him."
That sentence pierced deeper than anything else.
She wasn't wrong.
I couldn't remember ever asking Lily about her life.
Not once.
I knew what detergent she preferred.
I knew how she folded towels.
I knew she arrived exactly at eight every morning.
But I didn't know her birthday.
I didn't know where she lived.
I didn't know she'd once known my mother.
I had spent two years treating her like part of the furniture.
The video wasn't over.
"There's something Alexander doesn't know."
Lily suddenly froze.
"No..."
She whispered desperately.
"Please don't..."
But the recording continued.
"His father wasn't the man who protected this family."
I felt every muscle in my body tense.
What?
My mother coughed violently before speaking again.
"If Alexander ever learns the truth... tell him only when he's ready."
Lily immediately paused the video.
Her breathing became uneven.
"I can't..."
She buried her face in her hands.
"I can't tell him."
Silence filled the room.
Then another voice startled her.
A small child.
"Mama?"
I almost opened my eyes.
Footsteps echoed from the hallway.
A little girl—no older than six—peeked around the corner wearing a faded yellow sweater.
She had messy brown curls and enormous frightened eyes.
She froze the instant she saw me lying on the floor.
"Lily..."
Her tiny voice shook.
"Is he..."
Lily quickly stood and pulled the child into her arms.
"It's okay."
"No, sweetheart... don't look."
The little girl clung tightly to her.
"I told you rich people die too."
My mind raced.
Rich people?
Why would a six-year-old say something like that?
Lily kissed the top of her daughter's head.
"We're leaving."
The child looked confused.
"But Mama... we need the money."
"I know."
"What about my medicine?"
Lily's entire body stiffened.
"We'll figure something out."
Medicine?
The words hit me harder than anything else that morning.
She had a daughter.
She had never mentioned having a child.
Not once.
Had she been hiding her?
Or hiding her from me?
The little girl quietly reached into Lily's pocket and pulled out an envelope.
"Mama..."
"You forgot this."
Lily stared at it for several seconds.
Then she looked toward my motionless body.
Her tears returned.
"This belonged to him."
She knelt beside me one final time.
"I'm sorry I never gave it to you."
She gently placed the envelope on my chest.
"I promised your mother I'd wait until you were ready."
Another promise.
Another secret.
Then she stood.
She carried her daughter toward the front door.
Halfway there, the little girl looked back.
She smiled sadly at me.
"Bye, Mister Alex."
The door opened.
Closed.
The house became silent.
For nearly thirty seconds, I couldn't breathe.
Then I shot upright.
The room spun around me.
My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the envelope.
Everything I believed had collapsed in less than ten minutes.
Lily hadn't stayed because she wanted my money.
She hadn't stayed because she needed employment.
She had stayed because she had made a dying promise to my mother.
And I...
I had rewarded that loyalty by pretending to be dead.
But it got worse.
Far worse.
I tore open the envelope with trembling fingers.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
The paper was yellow with age.
The handwriting belonged to only one person.
My mother.
At the very top, in faded blue ink, were the words that made my blood run cold.
"Alexander, if you're reading this, it means someone finally told you the truth about your father..."
Before I could read another sentence—
My phone rang.
The caller ID flashed a name I hadn't seen in almost eight years.
RICHARD REYES.
My father.
The man whose funeral I had attended.
The man I believed had been buried beside my mother.
May you like
The man who, according to every official record...
...had been dead for seven years.
