There was an email.
It had arrived that morning.No name.
No address.
Only one attachment.
A photograph.
It showed Ethan.
Not in the hospital.
Not during the surgery.
It had been taken thirteen years earlier, the morning of his operation.
He was sitting on a hospital bench.
And beside him was a woman I didn’t recognize.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten sentence:
He asked me to wait until Clara turned eighteen.
Clara stared at it.
“Who is she?”
I didn’t know.
Then I noticed something.
Around the woman’s neck was a small silver necklace.
A heart-shaped pendant.
I had seen it before.
In Ethan’s belongings.
A photograph of him holding Clara as a baby.
The same woman had been standing in the background.
I looked at Daniel.
“We have to find her.”
But before we could do anything, Clara noticed another envelope beneath the photograph.
