Chapter 4 - The Secret of 47th Street
By 4:00 AM, the rain had stopped, leaving the windows of the lakefront compound covered in a thin sheet of morning frost.
Ethan had stabilized after a four-hour surgery. The doctors had removed two bullets from his abdomen, placing him in a medically induced coma to allow his body to recover.
I sat in a comfortable armchair in the nursery, holding both twins now. They were swaddled in soft, white organic cotton blankets, sleeping peacefully side by side in my lap. The girl had a tiny patch of dark hair just like mine; the boy had Ethan’s strong jawline.
My phone rang in my pocket. The nine percent battery had miraculously survived, plugged into a portable charger Dr. Aris had given me.
The screen lit up: Aunt Clara.
I hesitated for a long moment before sliding the green icon.
"Harper!" Clara’s voice screeched through the speaker, tight with panicked fury. "Where the hell are you? Do you have any idea what time it is? The school called—"
"I know about the two hundred thousand dollars, Aunt Clara," I said, my voice completely flat.
Silence fell over the line. Absolute, suffocating silence.
"Harper..." Clara’s tone changed instantly, losing its sharp, angry edge, melting into something trembling and weak. "Harper, listen to me... you don't understand—"
"You let me wear clothes from the donation bin," I said, looking at the sleeping babies in my lap. "You let me work three jobs after school to pay for 'rent' on an apartment that was already paid for thirty years in advance. You took his money to keep me hidden, but you treated me like a burden."
"They were watching me, Harper!" Clara cried out, her voice breaking into frantic sobs. "If I bought you nice things, if I gave you a normal life, the neighbors would have talked! Someone would have asked questions! I had to make you look invisible! I had to make sure nobody ever looked twice at the girl on 47th Street!"
"Did you know he was coming for me tonight?" I asked.
"Ethan called me two days ago," Clara whispered. "He said the London safehouse was compromised. He said he was bringing the twins to Chicago because he was being hunted. He told me to keep you home..."
"He didn't come to the house," I said softly. "He knew I’d be at the warehouse."
"Because he knew you better than I did," Clara said, a bitter, sad laugh escaping her throat. "Your mother was just like you, Harper. She never stayed where she was safe. She always ran toward the noise."
May you like
I disconnected the call and set the phone face down on the table.
I didn't hate Clara. I was too tired to hate her. But the life I had lived on 47th Street—the cold dinners, the worn-out shoes, the feeling of being an intruder in my own life—was gone forever.
