Chapter 2 - The Weight of a Paper GhostThe photograph looked insignificant.
It was old, faded, and bent at the corners.
Yet when Maria held it beneath the chandelier, Julian felt as though she had placed a loaded gun on the table.
“Where did you get that?”
His voice was barely audible.
Maria's fingers shook.
“I've had it for thirty-two years.”
Julian stared.
The photograph showed a young woman with dark hair and exhausted eyes.
She was holding a newborn baby.
The baby was wrapped in a knitted blue-and-cream blanket.
Julian's breathing stopped.
He knew that blanket.
For most of his life, he had kept it locked inside a cedar chest.
His adoptive mother had told him it was the only thing he possessed when he was brought home from the orphanage.
Victoria saw the recognition in his face.
“No.”
She stepped backward.
“No, Julian. Don't listen to her.”
Maria's voice became softer.
“I looked for you.”
Julian stared at her.
“For me?”
“I looked for you for years.”
The room seemed to shrink around him.
Maria's tears fell freely now.
“They told me you were dead.”
Julian's jaw tightened.
“Who told you?”
Maria closed her eyes.
“The people who took you.”
Victoria suddenly lunged for the photograph.
Julian caught her wrist.
“Don't.”
The single word was ice.
Victoria looked at him.
For the first time, she seemed to understand that she was losing him.
“She wants your money!”
Maria flinched.
Julian didn't.
“Then why does she know about my blanket?”
Victoria had no answer.
Maria sank slowly to her knees.
“I am your mother, Julian.”
Silence.
The city continued moving outside the windows.
Cars honked.
Sirens screamed in the distance.
May you like
But inside the penthouse, Julian heard only one word.
Mother.
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