"She was beautiful."
Victor nodded.
"She was."
Mia looked at him.
"Did she love me?"
Victor smiled.
"More than anything."
"Did she love you?"
Victor looked away.
"Yes."
Mia put the photograph back.
Then she noticed something else.
A letter.
It had her name written on it.
"Mia."
Victor froze.
He had never seen it before.
He took the envelope.
The handwriting was unmistakably Emma's.
The letter had been written before the accident.
It wasn't a goodbye letter.
It was simply a letter to Mia for her thirteenth birthday.
Emma had written that she hoped Mia would grow up brave.
That she hoped she would never allow anyone to make her feel small.
And that she hoped her father would teach her that being strong didn't mean never crying.
Victor couldn't finish reading it.
Mia hugged him.
He held her tightly.
For the first time in years, he let himself cry.
But that wasn't the end of the story.
Two weeks later, Mia disappeared.
Victor had dropped her at school that morning.
She never came home.
At first, he thought she was at a friend's house.
Then he received a message.
One sentence.
You should have protected her better.
Victor's entire world stopped.
He called the police.
He searched the neighborhood.
He checked hospitals.
He called every friend Mia had.
Nothing.
Then another message arrived.
This one contained a photograph.
Mia was sitting in an unfamiliar room.
She looked frightened.
Victor almost collapsed.
He immediately called the number.
A man answered.
"You have twenty-four hours."
"What do you want?"
"Money."
Victor knew he didn't have enough.
"How much?"
The man told him.
It was an impossible amount.
Victor sold everything.
His tools.
His workshop equipment.