“Get your coat.”
For three full seconds, I simply stared at Julian Mercer.
Then I laughed.
It was small, nervous, and completely inappropriate.
He didn’t.
Neither did Daniel.
Lily, however, beamed as if she had just won a major legal case.
“You’re coming,” she announced.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Papa did.”
“Your father doesn’t actually control me.”
Daniel looked down.
Lily tilted her head.
Julian’s expression remained perfectly still, but something faint moved behind his eyes.
“An important distinction,” he said.
I folded the towel again, though it was already folded.
“This is insane.”
“Yes,” Julian said.
“You agree?”
“Entirely.”
“And yet you’re still standing there telling me to get my coat.”
“I’m offering you dinner.”
“At your house.”
“Yes.”
“On Christmas Eve.”
“Yes.”
“With your daughter.”
Lily raised one gloved hand.
“I’m also offering.”
I pressed my fingers against my temple.
There were at least twelve reasons to say no.
Probably more.
I didn’t know these people.
Julian Mercer’s reputation could make a federal prosecutor sweat.
I had no idea where he lived.
I had no idea why a man like him had looked at me as though loneliness was something he recognized.
And I absolutely did not understand why I was considering any of this.
Then I pictured my apartment.
The radiator that clicked all night.
The tiny artificial plant on the windowsill because I could never keep real ones alive.
The cheesecake in the refrigerator.
The silence.
That terrible Christmas silence.
Lily watched me.
She didn’t beg.
That somehow made it worse.
I sighed.
“One dinner.”
Her whole face lit up.
“One dinner,” I repeated.
“Then Daniel drives me home.”
Daniel looked toward Julian.
Julian looked at him.
Daniel nodded immediately.
“Of course.”
I pointed at Lily.
“And no interrogations.”
She frowned.
“What counts as an interrogation?”
“More than five questions in a row.”
“That seems unfair.”
“Five.”
“Seven.”
“Five.”
“Six.”
Julian said, “Five.”
Lily crossed her arms.
“Fine.”
Twenty minutes later, I climbed into a black SUV that probably cost more than my entire apartment building.
I sat in the back beside Lily.
Julian sat across from us.
Daniel drove.
Another SUV followed behind.
I noticed it when we turned onto Sixth Avenue.
Then another car appeared two blocks later.
I looked through the rear window.
“Are those yours?”
Julian didn’t look up from his phone.
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“How many people does it take to go home?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
His eyes lifted to mine.
“Who knows you’re going there.”
The answer chilled me more effectively than the snow outside.
Lily leaned toward me.
“Daniel says Papa is paranoid.”
Daniel’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“I have never said that.”
“You said he assumes everyone has bad intentions.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Julian looked mildly amused.
I leaned closer to Lily.
“What does your dad say?”
“He says paranoia is only paranoia if nobody is actually trying to kill you.”
Silence.
I stared at Julian.
He calmly put his phone away.
“Children remember the least useful things.”
“People are trying to kill you?”
“No.”
Lily opened her mouth.
He looked at her.
She closed it.
That was somehow worse.
The SUV left Manhattan and headed north.
Buildings thinned.
Snow thickened.
Streetlights became farther apart until the city dissolved behind us.
I watched white fields, stone walls, skeletal trees.
“You don’t live in Manhattan?”
“I have an apartment there.”
“But?”
“Lily prefers the house.”
Lily nodded.
“There are woods.”
“And security cameras,” Daniel added.
“And woods.”
“And electric gates.”
“And deer.”
“And motion sensors.”
Lily gave him an irritated look.
“You make everything sound ugly.”
“I make everything sound accurate.”
Forty-five minutes later, iron gates appeared through the snowfall.
Two stone pillars flanked the entrance.
There was no visible sign.
No name.
No address marker.
The gates opened before we stopped.
We followed a long road lined with bare trees wrapped in tiny warm lights.
Then the house appeared.
Except house wasn’t the right word.
Estate, maybe.
Manor.
Small kingdom.
It was enormous without being gaudy—gray stone, tall windows, steep roofs dusted with snow, chimneys releasing thin streams of smoke into the dark sky.
Every window glowed.
A Christmas tree stood near the front entrance, at least fifteen feet high.
I whispered, “You have got to be kidding me.”
Lily grinned.
“We have another one inside.”
“Of course you do.”
The vehicle stopped beneath a covered entrance.
Daniel opened my door before I could touch the handle.
Warm light spilled across the snow.
Julian stepped out first.
Then Lily.
I followed.
The front door opened.
An older woman stood there.
Silver hair.
Elegant posture.
Black dress.
Pearls.
She looked at Julian first.
Then Lily.
Then me.
Her eyebrows rose.
“Julian.”
“Mother.”
Mother.
Wonderful.
Of course.
I had accidentally accepted Christmas dinner with Julian Mercer and his mother.
The woman’s eyes returned to me.
Lily ran forward.
“Grandma, I brought someone.”
“So I see.”
“She was alone at a restaurant.”
“Lily.”
“She was.”
The older woman ignored Julian completely and approached me.
“I’m Evelyn Mercer.”
“Emily Hayes.”
She took my hand.
Her grip was warm.
Her gaze was not.
Not unfriendly.
Assessing.
Like her son’s.
Then, unexpectedly, she smiled.
“Well,” she said, “you must be interesting.”
I blinked.
“Why?”
“Because my son hasn’t brought a woman home for Christmas in eight years.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“Mother.”
Evelyn looked delighted.
“What?
It’s true.”
“I’m not—”
“I know exactly what you’re not.”
She patted my hand.
“Come inside before Julian frightens you back into the snow.”
“I haven’t frightened her.”
I looked at him.
“You absolutely have.”
Lily laughed.
For the first time that night, Julian smiled.
Actually smiled.
It changed his entire face.
The effect was unfair.
And dangerous in a completely different way.
Inside, the Mercer house was warmer than I expected.
Not in temperature.
In feeling.
There were framed photographs.
Worn books.
Blankets folded over sofas.
A piano with sheet music stacked unevenly across it.
Lily’s drawings covered one wall near the kitchen.
None of it matched the cold, intimidating image I had constructed around Julian.
I saw him in photographs too.
Younger.
Laughing.
Standing beside another woman.
Dark-haired.
Beautiful.
Alive.
Lily’s mother.
I stopped in front of one photograph before realizing what I was doing.
She stood between Julian and a toddler-aged Lily beneath an enormous maple tree.
Julian looked nothing like the man beside me.
That man had been unguarded.
Happy.
The realization hurt strangely.
“What was her name?”
I asked.
Behind me, silence.
I turned.
Julian stood several feet away.
His expression had closed.
“Claire.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded once.
That was all.
Then Lily shouted from another room.
“Emily!”
I followed the sound.
The dining room could have seated thirty people.
Only six places were set.
Evelyn sat at one end.
Lily dragged me toward the chair beside hers.
Daniel remained standing near the doorway.
“You’re not eating?”
I asked him.
“I’m working.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
He glanced at Julian.
“Still working.”
Julian removed his jacket.
“Sit down, Daniel.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Sir.”
“That wasn’t a discussion.”
Something passed between them.
Then Daniel sat.
Dinner arrived in courses.
Actual courses.
Soup.
Roast duck.
Potatoes with herbs.
Green beans with almonds.
Fresh bread.
Wine for the adults.
Sparkling cider for Lily.
I had imagined a Mercer Christmas would be stiff.
Formal.
Terrifying.
Instead Lily complained that Brussels sprouts were “tiny cabbages designed by Satan.”
Evelyn told her not to insult vegetables until she was old enough to pay taxes.
Daniel nearly choked on wine.
Julian quietly moved Lily’s Brussels sprouts onto his own plate when Evelyn wasn’t looking.
I noticed.
He noticed me noticing.
Neither of us said anything.
For an hour, I forgot who he was.
That was the dangerous part.
I forgot the stories.
Forgot the men outside.
Forgot the convoy.
I only saw a father cutting his daughter’s meat because she still struggled with the knife.
A son refilling his mother’s glass before his own.
A man who kept glancing toward the empty chair across from him.
Claire’s chair, I realized.
No one had set a plate there.
Yet no one sat there either.
After dessert, Lily demanded that I see the tree.
It stood in the library.
Nearly twenty feet tall.
White lights.
Red ribbons.
Glass ornaments.
No designer could have made it perfect because clearly a child had been involved.
Several decorations were clustered at Lily-height.
One branch held four ornaments and a plastic dinosaur.
I touched it.
“Very traditional.”
“It’s a T-Rex.”
“I recognized the species.”
“Papa wanted gold ornaments.”
Julian stood near the fireplace.
“I did not.”
“You said they matched.”
“I said they matched each other.”
“Boring.”
Evelyn laughed softly from an armchair.
“You see what I endure?”
Julian poured himself a drink.
“You created this family.”
“Yes.
My greatest mistake.”
Lily pulled a wrapped box from beneath the tree.
“For Emily.”
I stared.
“No.”
She hugged it against her chest.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t have time to buy me something.”
“I didn’t.”
“Then whose present is that?”
Her excitement faded.
She looked toward Julian.
He went still.
Evelyn stopped smiling.
The room changed.
Again.
It happened whenever Claire entered the conversation, even when no one said her name.
Lily looked down at the box.
“It was for Mom.”
My stomach dropped.
I stepped back.
“Oh, Lily.
No.”
“She never opened it.”
“No.”
“You should have it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why?”
“Because it belongs to your mother.”
“She died before Christmas.”
The words were blunt.
But Lily’s voice trembled.
I looked at Julian.
He stared into the fire.
“She bought everyone presents early,” Lily continued.
“But this one was from me.”
My throat tightened.
“What is it?”
“A scarf.”
“Then you should keep it.”
“I did.”
Her eyes filled.
“For three years.”
No one moved.
I knelt in front of her.
“Lily…”
“She would have worn it.”
“I’m sure she would have.”
“She liked blue.”
“So do I.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Your eyes.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
She wiped it away angrily.
“I don’t want it in a box anymore.”
Something inside me cracked.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Like ice beneath snow.
I took the present.
“Okay.”
Julian looked at me.
His face was unreadable.
I unwrapped it carefully.
Inside lay a soft blue scarf.
Simple.
Beautiful.
I lifted it.
Lily smiled through tears.
“Put it on.”
I wrapped it around my neck.
Her smile widened.
And then the security alarm screamed.
The sound shattered the room.
Daniel was standing before I even understood what happened.
His chair hit the floor.
Julian moved faster.
One second he was beside the fireplace.
The next, he had Lily behind him.
Not beside him.
Behind him.
His entire body had changed.
There was no warmth now.
No father.
No Christmas.
This was the Julian Mercer people whispered about.
Daniel pulled a gun from beneath his jacket.
I stopped breathing.
Evelyn stood calmly.
Far too calmly.
“What is it?” she asked.
Daniel pressed two fingers to an earpiece.
His face hardened.
“South perimeter.”
Julian said, “How many?”
“Unknown.”
“Car?”
“Camera went dark first.”
A second man entered.
One of the security team.
“Mr.
Mercer.”
He looked at me.
Then stopped.
Julian saw it.
“What?”
The guard hesitated.
“Sir, we received something.”
“Say it.”
“A package.”
“Where?”
“Gatehouse.”
“Who delivered it?”
“No one saw.”
Julian’s expression went deadly still.
“Then how did it get there?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
Lily gripped the back of his shirt.
I touched her shoulder.
She looked up at me.
For the first time since we met, she looked like a seven-year-old.
Scared.
Julian noticed my hand on her shoulder.
Something changed in his eyes.
“Daniel,” he said.
“Sir?”
“Take Lily, my mother, and Emily downstairs.”
I stared.
“Downstairs where?”
“A secure room.”
My heart slammed.
“You have a secure room?”
“Move.”
“I’m not going into some bunker without knowing what’s happening.”
Daniel looked almost impressed by how badly I had chosen the moment to argue.
Julian stepped toward me.
His voice lowered.
“This is not the restaurant, Emily.”
“No, I noticed.”
“I’m not asking now.”
“And I don’t take orders well.”
“I can see that.”
Another alarm sounded.
Shorter this time.
Daniel swore.
“Julian.”
Julian turned.
A guard stood in the doorway holding a black box.
Small.
Square.
No ribbon.
No label.
Except one.
A white card.
Julian stared at it.
Every bit of color left his face.
I saw his name handwritten across the card.
Not Mr.
Mercer.
Not Julian.
One word.
Jules.
Evelyn whispered, “No.”
Julian crossed the room and took the card.
His fingers trembled.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
He opened the envelope.
Read.
Then read it again.
“What does it say?”
Evelyn asked.
He didn’t answer.
“Julian.”
Slowly, he raised his eyes.
They landed on me.
Not Lily.
Not Daniel.
Me.
And suddenly everyone else looked too.
“What?”
I whispered.
Daniel stepped closer to Julian and took the card.
His expression changed.
He looked at me.
Then at Julian.
“Sir…”
“What does it say?”
I demanded.
Julian walked toward me.
Very slowly.
He held the card where I could see it.
There were only seven words.
SHE WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO COME HOME.
My skin went cold.
“I don’t understand.”
Neither did Lily.
“Who?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Julian.
“Who does that mean?”
His eyes moved to the blue scarf around my neck.
Then to my face.
And something like fear appeared there.
Not fear for himself.
Fear of me.
“Take off the scarf,” he said.
“What?”
“Emily, take it off.”
I pulled it away from my neck.
He took it.
Turned it over.
Ran his thumb along the hem.
Then froze.
There was something stitched into one corner.
A tiny symbol.
A crescent moon crossed by three narrow lines.
Julian stared at it.
Evelyn stood so quickly her glass fell and shattered.
“Oh, God.”
I looked from one of them to the other.
“What is that?”
Evelyn whispered, “Claire’s mark.”
“But Lily said she bought the scarf.”
“I did,” Lily protested.
“I picked it.”
Julian turned to her.
“Where?”
“The Christmas market.”
“With who?”
Lily’s face changed.
“I…”
“Lily.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Yes, you do.”
She stared at the floor.
“Mom.”
The room fell silent.
Julian crouched in front of her.
“You bought this with your mother?”
“Yes.”
“How long before the accident?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“Papa—”
“How long?”
She flinched.
He immediately softened.
“Lily.
Please.”
Her lower lip trembled.
“The day before.”
Julian closed his eyes.
Daniel whispered a curse.
I had no idea what any of it meant.
“What accident?”
Julian stood.
“My wife died three years ago on December twenty-third.”
I stared at him.
Yesterday.
Three years ago yesterday.
“Car accident?”
“That’s what we were told.”
“What do you mean, told?”
Before he could answer, Daniel’s radio crackled.
A voice came through.
“We opened the exterior container.”
Julian pressed the button.
“And?”
“Another box inside.”
“What kind?”
A pause.
Then:
“Old evidence storage.”
Julian looked at Daniel.
Daniel looked back.
“What evidence?”
I asked.
Neither answered.
The guard’s voice returned.
“There’s a photograph.”
“Describe it.”
Another pause.
Longer.
“It’s Mrs.
Mercer.”
Lily gasped.
Julian’s hand tightened around the radio.
“Recent?”
The silence on the other end terrified me.
“Sir…”
“Answer.”
“The timestamp says tonight.”
No one breathed.
Julian stared at nothing.
Evelyn covered her mouth.
Lily whispered, “Mom?”
Julian moved immediately.
“Take Lily downstairs.”
“No!”
“Lily.”
“No!
If Mom is alive—”
“We don’t know anything.”
“I want to see!”
“Absolutely not.”
She screamed his name when Daniel tried to lift her.
Not Papa.
“Julian!”
It cut through him.
He grabbed her shoulders.
“Listen to me.
You go with Daniel.
You stay with Grandma.
You do exactly what they say.”
“But—”
“I will come to you.”
“Promise?”
His eyes flicked to the photograph still unseen somewhere beyond the room.
Then back to his daughter.
“I promise.”
Daniel carried her away.
Evelyn followed.
But before she left, she turned toward me.
The look she gave me made my stomach twist.
Not suspicion.
Recognition.
She approached.
“Emily.”
“Yes?”
“What was your mother’s name?”
The question struck me as absurd.
“My mother?”
“Her name.”
“Sarah.”
Evelyn swallowed.
“Sarah what?”
“Hayes.”
“Maiden name.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Tell me.”
“Callahan.”
She went white.
Julian turned sharply.
“What?”
Evelyn stared at me as if I had become someone else.
“Sarah Callahan?”
“Yes.”
“From Albany?”
My skin prickled.
“She grew up there.”
Julian stepped toward us.
“Mother, what is this?”
Evelyn ignored him.
“Did she have a sister?”
“I don’t know.
She died when I was six.”
Evelyn closed her eyes.
“Mother.”
Julian’s voice was harder now.
She looked at him.
“Claire’s mother was named Callahan.”
My heartbeat skipped.
“So?”
Evelyn whispered, “Claire’s mother had a younger sister.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
“Sarah.”
“No.”
Julian stopped moving.
I laughed once.
A terrible sound.
“That’s not possible.”
Evelyn looked at me with tears gathering in her eyes.
“Sarah disappeared from the family when she was nineteen.”
“My mother didn’t have family.”
“She did.”
“No.”
“She had an older sister named Margaret.”
I shook my head.
“You’re wrong.”
“Margaret Callahan was Claire’s mother.”
The room tilted.
I gripped the back of a chair.
“That would mean…”
Julian finished it.
“Claire was your cousin.”
The words made no sense.
They entered the room but refused to become real.
I looked at the photograph on the wall.
Claire laughing beneath the maple tree.
Her face.
Dark hair.
High cheekbones.
Eyes.
My eyes.
I hadn’t noticed before.
Or maybe I hadn’t wanted to.
“That’s impossible.”
Then a guard entered carrying the photograph from the package.
He held it out to Julian.
I saw it before Julian could stop me.
A woman stood beneath a streetlight.
Snow behind her.
Dark coat.
Dark hair.
The timestamp in the corner showed tonight.
Her face was turned slightly away.
But it was Claire.
Older.
Thinner.
Alive.
And beside her stood another person.
Me.
I stepped backward.
“No.”
The second woman had my face.
My hair.
My coat.
The exact black coat hanging at Bell & Rowan.
The photograph had been taken at 9:43 p.m.
At that time, I had been inside the restaurant serving dessert to table fourteen.
Julian looked at me.
I looked at him.
Neither of us understood.
Then his phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone stared at it.
He answered.
“Mercer.”
Static.
Then a woman’s voice.
Soft.
Breathless.
Alive.
“Jules.”
Julian’s face broke.
Not metaphorically.
I watched the man lose every defense he possessed.
“Claire?”
Lily screamed from somewhere downstairs.
She must have heard.
The voice on the phone whispered, “Don’t let Emily leave.”
I stopped breathing.
Julian looked at me.
“Why?”
Silence.
Then Claire said something that turned my blood to ice.
“Because Emily Hayes died twenty years ago.”
The call ended.
Nobody moved.
Julian stared at the phone.
Then at me.
My mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Outside, somewhere beyond the windows, a light went dark.
Then another.
Then another.
One by one, every light along the driveway disappeared until the Mercer estate stood alone in the snow.
And from the front hall came three slow knocks.
Someone was standing outside.
Julian reached beneath his jacket.
Daniel’s voice exploded over the radio.
“Do not open that door.”
A fourth knock came.
Then a woman’s voice called from the other side.
“Julian?”
His hand froze.
It was Claire’s voice.
But before he could move, another voice spoke beside me.
Small.
Terrified.
Lily had escaped Daniel and was standing in the doorway behind us.
She stared through the glass beside the front door.
Her face turned white.
“Papa…”
Julian turned.
Lily lifted one shaking finger toward the person waiting outside.
“That isn’t Mom.”
I looked through the glass.
The woman in the snow slowly raised her head.
And smiled directly at me.
She had Claire’s face.
But she had my eyes.
…If you want to know what happened next, please type “YES” and like for more.
Source: Stories of Destiny · Nhan Nhan
