The first thing Daniel Whitmore heard when he stepped through the front doors of his house was his daughter crying.
Not the ordinary crying of a six-year-old who had dropped a toy or been told she could not have dessert.
This sound was different.
It was frightened.
Broken.
The kind of crying that made a father forget everything else in the world.
Daniel dropped his leather travel bag in the marble entryway and rushed toward the center of the house.
“Emily?”
His voice echoed beneath the enormous crystal chandelier.
For a moment, there was no answer.
Then he saw her.
His six-year-old daughter was lying near the bottom of the grand staircase in the pale pink dress she had insisted on wearing that morning.
One shoe was missing.
Her blond hair had fallen across her face, and tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to push herself upright.
“Daddy!”
Daniel’s heart stopped.
He crossed the marble floor so quickly that his shoes nearly slipped.
“Emily.”
He dropped to his knees beside her.
“Don’t move yet. Let me see you.”
She reached for him immediately.
Daniel lifted her carefully, checking her arms, her shoulders, her head.
“Where does it hurt?”
“My arm.”
“Anywhere else?”
“My knee.”
She buried her face against his chest.
Daniel wrapped both arms around her and held her tightly.
“I’ve got you. Daddy’s here.”
He looked toward the staircase.
It was one of the most dramatic features of the Whitmore estate, a wide white staircase rising from the foyer before separating into two curved flights leading to the second floor.
Daniel had always loved it.
Emily loved it too.
She used to sit halfway up with her dolls and pretend the staircase belonged to a castle.
Now Daniel looked at those steps and felt something cold move through him.
“How did you fall?”
Emily did not answer.
“Sweetheart?”
Her small fingers tightened around the collar of his suit jacket.
Daniel felt movement above him.
He looked up.
Claire stood on the second-floor landing.
His wife was wearing a royal blue evening dress.
Her dark hair was perfectly arranged.
She had been prepared for the charity dinner Daniel was supposed to attend with her later that night.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
Then Claire hurried toward the stairs.
“Daniel?”
She sounded shocked.
“You’re home.”
Daniel stared at her.
“My meeting finished early.”
Claire stopped halfway down.
“I thought your flight wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon.”
“It wasn’t.”
He looked at Emily again.
“What happened?”
Claire continued descending.
“She slipped.”
Daniel’s eyes returned to his wife.
“Slipped?”
“Yes.”
Claire reached the bottom of the stairs.
“I told her not to run on the staircase. You know how she gets when she’s excited.”
Emily’s body suddenly became rigid in Daniel’s arms.
It was almost too subtle to notice.
Daniel noticed.
He always noticed things about his daughter.
The way her shoulders rose when she was nervous.
The way she rubbed her thumb against her index finger when she was hiding something.
The way she stopped talking completely when she was frightened.
Emily was doing all three.
Daniel looked down at her.
“Were you running?”
Emily stared at the floor.
Claire answered before she could.
“She was chasing one of those little toys of hers.”
Daniel’s gaze moved slowly back to Claire.
“I asked Emily.”
Claire’s smile disappeared for half a second.
Then it returned.
“Of course.”
Daniel brushed the hair away from Emily’s face.
“Sweetheart, look at me.”
She lifted her eyes.
“Were you running?”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Daniel waited.
Claire shifted behind him.