Chapter 2: Someone Had Been Watching
Under the blanket was a manila envelope, thick and sealed, and beneath it — a second yellow blanket, smaller, folded neatly.
Like someone had kept it all these years.
Like someone had been watching.
My hands wouldn't stop shaking as I tore open the envelope.
Inside were photographs.
The first one stopped my breath.
It was me.
Standing at this exact shop.
Holding newborn Lori.
Taken the morning I found her.
Someone had been there that day.
Someone with a camera.
The next photo was Lori at maybe five years old, walking out of her school.
Then at ten, at her dance recital.
Then last year, at her birthday party in our backyard.
Sixteen years of photographs.
Every single one taken without my knowledge.
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I almost didn't answer.
But my thumb moved on its own.
"You kept her safe," a woman's voice said quietly.
"I never stopped watching."
"Who is this?" I whispered.
Silence.
Then: "She can't know I exist.
Not yet.
But there's something you need to find.
Check under the spare tire."
The line went d\*ad.
I stood there, unable to move, staring at sixteen years of secret photographs scattered across the trunk floor.
Then Lori's name lit up my phone screen.
"Dad, are you coming home for lunch?
I made sandwiches."
I couldn't speak.
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Who is this woman — and what has she been hiding for sixteen years?
The full truth is darker and more emotional than you expect.
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