Part 14:
Too perfect. Daniel had seen covers like this before in Afghanistan. Identities built carefully over years designed to pass casual scrutiny. But there were always tells if you knew where to look. And Daniel knew. He found it at 11 p.m. a gap in her employment history 6 months in 2019 that were explained as personal travel, but corresponded with a spike in cyber attacks on defense contractors.
Could be coincidence, or it could be someone’s operative taking a break between assignments. His phone buzzed. Ethan texting from Mrs. Chen’s phone. “Dad, when are you coming home?” Guilt washed over him. He’d been so focused on the hunt that he’d forgotten his son was waiting. “On my way, buddy.
” He locked his files, encrypted his notes, and headed for the parking garage. The Honda started on the first try a minor miracle, and he made it to Mrs. Chen’s apartment in 20 minutes. “I’m sorry,” he said, scooping Ethan into a hug. “Work ran late. It’s okay, Ethan said, though his voice suggested it wasn’t entirely.
Mrs. Chen made dumplings. Dumplings sound amazing. They walked home together, Ethan chattering about school while Daniel scanned the darkness, old habits demanding vigilance. Someone had accessed his son’s school records. Someone was interested in his vulnerabilities. That night, after Ethan was asleep, Daniel sat by his son’s bed and watched him breathe.
In Afghanistan, he’d protected strangers because it was his job. Now he was protecting Clara and Lily because because why? Because it was his job. Because Clara trusted him. Or because somewhere in the last 3 weeks they’d become more than clients to protect his phone lit up with a text from Clara. Can’t sleep. Knowing Miranda might be a threat makes me want to pull Lily out of school and lock her in her room forever.
That’s not living, he typed back. That’s just existing, says the man who made me suspect everyone. Suspicion keeps you alive. But you’re right. It’s no way to live. We’ll figure this out. We We Sunday arrived with unseasonable warmth for November. The kind of day that made Daniel second guess his decision to wear his only good jacket.
Ethan had insisted on bringing his electromagnetic project to show Lily carrying it like precious cargo as they drove through increasingly affluent neighborhoods toward Clara’s estate. Dad, are these all single houses? Ethan pressed his nose against the Honda’s window, watching mansions roll by like monuments to another world. Yeah, buddy.
But they’re so big. How many families live in each one? Usually just one. Ethan processed this information with 8-year-old logic. That seems lonely. Out of the mouths of babes, Daniel thought turning into Clara’s driveway. The Georgian mansion rose before them like something from a movie all perfect symmetry and manicured lawns.
The Honda wheezed to a stop, looking desperately out of place among the landscape perfection. Before Daniel could second guess coming, the front door burst open and Lily ran out. Blonde pigtails flying. Mr. Daniel, you came. Um. She stopped just short of hugging him, suddenly shy. Daniel knelt to her level, his healing arm protesting slightly.
I promised, didn’t I? Mommy said you always keep promises. Is that true? I try to. This is Ethan, Daniel said, guiding his son forward. Ethan, this is Lily. You’re the girl my dad saved, Ethan said with characteristic directness. Your dad’s a hero, Lily said solemnly. Want to see my butterfly collection? And just like that, the two children ran off together.
Ethan’s project abandoned on the porch in favor of new friendship. Daniel watched them go, something easing in his chest. Kids had a way of making everything simple. They make it look easy. He turned to find Clara in the doorway dressed in jeans and a cashmere sweater that probably costs more than his rent, but somehow made her look approachable human.
The CEO armor was gone, leaving just a mother watching her daughter laugh. Kids don’t know they’re supposed to be different, Daniel said. No, they don’t. She studied him for a moment. How’s the arm? Better everyday. Good. Come in. I made dinner. You cook? I’m full of surprises. The inside of the house was less imposing than he’d expected.
Decorated with a warmth that spoke of actual living rather than magazine shoots. Children’s artwork adorned expensive walls. Toys scattered across Persian rugs. It was a home that happened to be a mansion rather than a mansion pretending to be a home. The kitchen was enormous but cozy, filled with the smell of roasting chicken and something that might have been homemade bread.
Clara moved around the space with easy familiarity, checking pots and adjusting temperatures. I can help, Daniel offered. You can sit and keep me company. Doctor’s orders about that arm. He sat at the kitchen island watching her work. You really did cook every Sunday. It’s the one normal thing I insist on.
No staff, no catering, just me and Lily. And now you and Ethan apparently. We don’t want to intrude on your tradition. Daniel. She turned from the stove. Stop. You’re not intruding. You’re invited. There’s a difference. Through the window, he could see the children in the backyard. Ethan helping Lily catch something in a jar. Their laughter carried on the warm air bright and uncomplicated.
