His second hit like a blow to the chest.
He knew her.
He’d seen that face reflected in marble floors and glass windows years ago. Bent over cleaning supplies. Standing quietly in doorways.
He hadn’t seen it in six years.
“Lena…” he said.
The name barely made sound.
The woman looked up sharply. Recognition flashed, followed instantly by fear.
“Mr. Hale?” she whispered.
Her body stiffened. She pulled the children closer.
She was Elena Morales—his former housekeeper. The woman who’d worked in his townhouse for two years before disappearing without notice. He’d replaced her the next day and never looked back.
Or so he’d thought.
“What are you doing here?” Victor asked, his voice rough.
“We’re waiting for a flight,” she said, eyes downcast.
His gaze drifted to the children.
The girl had Elena’s hair and shy expression. The boy sat straighter, eyes bright and impossibly blue.
Victor’s blue.
His pulse thundered.
“They’re… yours?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said too quickly.
He crouched without thinking, meeting the boy’s eyes.
“What’s your name?”
The boy smiled, tentative but open. “I’m Vico.”
The floor seemed to drop away.
That had been his childhood nickname.