Ethan''s words echoed in my mind long after he''d mmed the door. "I want to see Lily!" The


    audacity of his demand made my blood boil all over again.


    My chest tightened painfully, and I gasped for breath. The familiar sensation of panic wed at my throat as grief overwhelmed me. I fumbled in my pocket for my medicine bottle, fingers


    trembling as I tried to open it.


    Empty.


    A sob escaped me as I slumped against the wall. Of course it was empty. Nothing in my life


    seemed to go right anymore.


    "I''m sorry, Lily," I whispered to the empty room. "I''m so sorry."


    Guilt crashed over me in waves. I had tried so hard to shield Lily from the truth of her father''s


    indifference. I''d made excuses for his absences, invented reasons for why he missed her


    birthday parties and school events.


    "Daddy''s just busy with pack business, sweetheart," I would tell her, watching her little face fall


    with disappointment. "He loves you very much."


    What a fool I''d been. My efforts to create a loving paternal image had only deepened Lily''s hurt, strengthened her attachment to a father who barely acknowledged her existence.


    Tears streamed down my face as I stared at Lily''s portrait on my small altar. Her emerald eyes


    -so like my own-gazed back at me, innocent and trusting.


    "I failed you," I choked out. "I couldn''t protect you from him. I couldn''t save you from your illness. And now, I can''t even bring Victoria to justice for what she did."


    The weight of my failures crushed me. I couldn''t breathe, couldn''t think past the overwhelming guilt and grief.


    I needed to see her. I needed to be close to my daughter.


    Without conscious thought, I grabbed my car keys and headed out into the night.


    The drive to Sacred Moonlight Cemetery was familiar-I''d made this journey countless times in the sleepless nights since Lily''s burial. The cemetery gates were never locked; the dead had


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    nothing to fear from intruders, and the living who visited at night usually had good


    reason.


    I parked my car and gathered the small offerings I''d brought-a package of venison jerky (Lily''s favorite) and fresh white flowers. The night air was cool against my tear-stained face as I made my way along the darkened paths.


    I felt no fear walking among the graves. These were ces where the dead rested, where they were remembered and mourned. Like my Lily, they had been loved.


    As I approached Lily''s tombstone, my heart stopped. Someone was already there-a slender figure standing before my daughter''s grave.


    Even in the dim moonlight, I recognized her immediately. Victoria Frost.


    My blood ran cold. What was she doing here? What business did she have at my daughter''s


    resting ce?


    I slipped behind a nearby monument, watching with growing horror as Victoria spoke to Lily''s


    grave.


    "You little brat," she hissed, her voice carrying clearly in the still night air. "Even in death, you''re


    still causing me trouble."


    I couldn''t believe what I was hearing. Victoria was speaking to my dead child with such