Chapter 14 - THE ANNIVERSARY
A year passed.
We spent the anniversary of Grace’s death at the cabin—the one place that had always been ours, before everything fell apart. Lily ran through the woods, picking wildflowers, singing to herself, Teddy tucked safely in her backpack.
I stood on the porch, watching her, thinking about everything that had happened. About Marcus. About Elena. About how easily everything can be taken away.
Clara brought me a cup of coffee and stood beside me.
"You okay?" she asked quietly.
I nodded. "Just thinking. About how close we came. To losing everything. To losing her."
"But we didn’t," I said. "And that counts for something."
Clara rested her hand gently on my arm. "Grace was watching over you both. You know that. She didn’t fight so hard just to lose you two."
I looked out at the lake, sunlight dancing across the water. Grace had loved this place. She had brought Lily here every summer since she was born. She had walked these woods, sat on this porch, and dreamed of the life we would share. She had never gotten to see it. But she had made sure we would.
"Daddy!" Lily came running up the steps, breathless, flowers clutched in both hands. "Look what I found! Mommy used to pick these, right?"
She held up a cluster of bluebells. Grace’s favorite.
"Yes," I said, smiling as I knelt down. "She did. She said they bloom where the sky kisses the earth."
Lily’s face lit up. She turned to Teddy, pulling him from her backpack. "Did you hear that, Teddy? Sky kisses the earth! Just like Mommy said."
She arranged the flowers in a jar on the porch rail, then sat beside me, leaning her head against my shoulder.
"Daddy?"
"Yes, baby?"
"Do you think Mommy knows we’re here?"
My throat tightened. I wrapped my arm around her.
"I think she knows everything," I said softly. "I think she sees you every day. And I think she’s very proud."
Lily was quiet for a moment, twisting a petal between her fingers.
"I miss her," she whispered.
"I do too," I said. "Every single day."
She looked up at me then, her brown eyes clear and steady. "But we’re okay, right? You and me? We’re safe?"
I thought about everything we had been through. The lies. The betrayal. The danger that had lived under our roof. I thought about Marcus’s hatred, Elena’s fear, Vanessa’s cruelty. And then I looked at my daughter—brave, wise beyond her years, holding fast to love even after everything she had lost.
"We are safe," I promised her. "No one will ever hurt you again. I swear it."
Lily nodded, satisfied. She turned back to the flowers, and I turned back to the lake. But as I watched the water, something at the far edge of the shore caught my eye.
A figure standing among the trees. Watching us.
I stood up abruptly. Clara followed my gaze.
"Adrian?" she asked quietly. "Do you know who that is?"
The figure stepped back, disappearing into the shadow of the pines. Too fast. Too deliberate.
"I don’t know," I said, my voice tight. "But I’m going to find out. Clara, take Lily inside. Lock the doors. Don’t open them for anyone until I get back."
Clara’s eyes widened. "Are you sure—"
"Please," I said. "Just keep her safe."
I started toward the trees, my heart hammering. Marcus was in prison. Elena too. Vanessa would be there for years. Who could possibly be watching us now?
I reached the spot where the figure had stood. The ground was soft pine needles, undisturbed except for one set of footprints—small, narrow, the heels dug in like someone had been standing there a long time. And resting on a fallen log, placed carefully in the center, was a single, white rose.
My blood ran cold.
Grace had loved bluebells. But white roses? Those had been Marcus’s favorite.
May you like
I picked it up slowly. Taped to the stem was a tiny scrap of paper. Written in the same bold, clean handwriting I had seen before—the handwriting from the boathouse note—were three words:
*THE GAME CONTINUES.*
