Filed to story: The Daughter in the Shadows (Yunice) Book by Una Norris
Her hand gripped the brush tightly, eyes turning red.
Seeing that she was genuinely upset, Wyatt finally said, “We don’t even know the full truth yet. And now you’re blaming me?”
“Oh please. You already-” She caught herself before she could say too much and quickly changed course. “You love Nora, don’t you? You’ve been doing everything you can for her family. If Morgan goes to prison, how will you explain that to Nora?”
As she spoke, Yunice threw a sidelong glance at him, acting a little smug-like she wanted to sting him.
Wyatt tilted his head at her, but she looked away.
Several quiet seconds passed.
Wyatt reached out to pull her up.
Yunice brushed him off.
He caught her wrist easily, voice gentler this time. “Come to the station with me?”
Yunice looked down, rubbing her wrist. “Don’t act all righteous in front of me if you’re going to do something else behind my back.”
Wyatt tugged her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
She followed him with a dragging gait, like a sulky ox being pulled by the reins.
Wyatt opened a drawer and sifted through several car keys, eventually picking one.
Yunice noticed it was an old key-the paint on the fob had even worn off.
When they got to the underground garage, Wyatt pressed the button, and the mechanical lift kicked in with a whir. A car descended from the upper platform.
Wyatt walked over and drove it out.
Yunic? stood aside, watching as the vehicle rolled into the light.
A H9…
She instinctively looked at the license plate, though it was different from what it had been four or five years ago.
From the clean tire marks, it was obvious the car hadn’t been driven in ages.
As it pulled up, she placed her hand on the door. A wave of nostalgia hit her like a flood.
Elianna’s father used to drive this exact car. Even the little hand-painted trim near the damaged edge looked exactly the same.
Wyatt tapped on her window, silently asking what she was spacing out for.
Yunice got in, fingers brushing the door as memories stirred.
Wyatt asked what was on her mind.
She hesitated. She wanted to ask him-was he there the night Elianna’s father helped her?
But she thought back to their last conversation. If he didn’t bring it up then, it probably meant he didn’t remember.
In the end, she said nothing.
Wyatt waited a few more seconds before starting the car and driving off.
Yunice had assumed he would at least use his connections to get some intel at the station, maybe make a show of being fair in front of her.
But he didn’t.
Before they got out of the car, Wyatt rummaged through a box in the back seat and pulled out two black baseball caps and face masks.
He handed one set to Yunice.
She curiously examined it.
But Wyatt had already put his on and stepped out of the car.
He walked around to her door, bracing one hand on it and signaling her with his eyes.
“We’re sneaking in with the reporters.”
Yunice turned and saw that the area outside the station was crawling with press.
Some were openly staking out the front entrance. Others, dressed in camouflage, were hiding in the bushes.
The strangest ones were perched in trees with massive zoom lenses.
Yunice frowned and whispered, “You’re not using your connections?”
Wyatt scanned the area calmly. “If I show my face, it’ll be a mess.”
But since they were already here, Yunice had no choice but to pull on the disguise and follow his lead.
Just as Wyatt was about to move, his phone rang from inside his coat pocket.
He paused and glanced at it-it was a call from Madam Mary.
Yunice pursed her lips. Of course she knew why Madam Mary was calling now.
Wyatt frowned and answered. “Hello.”
Madam Mary’s heart sank the moment she realized he hadn’t greeted her like he usually did.
She knew Morgan had been spiraling out of control these past couple of years, becoming more reckless and harder to manage. And she also knew Wyatt had grown colder toward the family because of it.
What terrified her most was the possibility that this time, Wyatt really wouldn’t help clean up Morgan’s mess.
“Wyatt,” Madam Mary said, her voice sharp with emotion. “You must’ve seen the news today. That Morgan-he’s completely out of control. Even I, his own grandmother, wanted to beat him to death when I saw what he did!” She huffed angrily. “Don’t you dare clean up his mess this time. Let the cops lock him up for ten days or two weeks. Let him finally understand what consequences mean! Make him see that no one-except you-has ever spoiled him!”
Yunice gave a dry, mocking smirk. The old woman sure knew how to play her cards-retreating in order to advance. She was hoping Wyatt would give Morgan a slap on the wrist, feel satisfied, and still end up stepping in.
Yunice stayed silent, standing with her back to Wyatt, watching the absurd parade of reporters nearby.
Wyatt, still looking at her, spoke into the phone. “Don’t worry. I won’t get involved this time.”
“…Wyatt,” Madam Mary began.
“I’ve got something to do. I’m hanging up.” Wyatt ended the call.
On the other end, Madam Mary clutched her chest. A wave of dread swept through her, leaving her breathless. That sinking feeling only confirmed what she feared-this time, Wyatt might really let Morgan fall.
Meanwhile, Yunice had already walked away and blended into the crowd behind the reporters. The obvious, out-in-the-open journalists were chatting among themselves, waiting to pounce on anyone coming out of the station in hopes of squeezing out a fresh quote-maybe even score a headline. But those were low- effort tactics. At best, they’d get a polished press statement. Yunice turned her gaze toward the ones hiding in trees, camouflaged in bushes, sneaking in under cover. Those were the real pros-the ones chasing firsthand intel.
Just then, her hand suddenly warmed. Wyatt had taken her hand in his palm, then slipped it into the pocket of his long coat along with his own. Eyes scanning the area, he said, “Looks like this’ll be a long night.”
Yunice didn’t move. Her hand stayed in his pocket, but she turned her gaze away from his profile and said with a scoff, “What could you possibly learn by waiting here? You’re just trying to mess with me, aren’t you?”
Wyatt replied calmly, “Ever heard of cutting in line? Let others do the hard work-we swoop in and take the prize.”
Yunice followed his gaze toward a police vehicle that had just arrived. The door opened, revealing five or six young men in handcuffs, shirts stained with blood. They looked like they’d been arrested for a group fight.