Part 6: The Ghost of Gracie
Vivian moved fast.
“This is a disgusting stunt.”
Grace looked at her.
“No. The stunt was pretending I died.”
Chloe turned toward Vivian.
“What is she talking about?”
Vivian smiled too quickly.
“Darling, she’s lying. People do this to families like ours.”
Grace lifted the hospital bracelet.
Grace Eleanor Lancaster.
Born May 14.
Daughter of William and Eleanor Lancaster.
Chloe stepped backward.
Her breathing changed.
“My sister died.”
Grace’s eyes filled.
“No. I was taken.”
At the head table, William Lancaster pushed himself up from his chair.
He was older than Grace remembered.
Much older.
A stroke had bent one side of his body, but his eyes were alive.
He stared at Grace as if a ghost had walked through the door.
“Gracie?”
The nickname shattered her.
No one had called her that since she was six.
Grace turned toward him.
“Dad?”
William tried to move too quickly.
His cane fell.
Several guests rushed to help, but he waved them off, trembling.
Vivian grabbed his arm.
“William, sit down. This is too much for you.”
He pulled away from her.
It was small.
Weak.
But it was the first time Grace had ever seen Vivian lose control of him.
William looked at Grace.
“Come closer.”
Grace walked toward him slowly.
Every step felt like crossing the sixteen years stolen from them.
When she reached him, William touched her face with shaking fingers.
Then he saw the tiny scar under her chin.
Grace had fallen in the garden at age five.
He had carried her inside.
He remembered the blood on his shirt.
He remembered Eleanor crying harder than Grace.
William broke.
“My daughter,” he whispered.
Vivian’s face hardened.
“She is not your daughter.”
William turned his head.
“Do not say another word.”
May you like
The room froze.
The old man’s voice was weak, but the authority inside it had returned.
