Filed to story: The Daughter in the Shadows (Yunice) Book by Una Norris
She scanned the area and saw Victor’s car still running. Without hesitation, she jumped in and sped away from the Crawford residence.
Inside, chaos had broken out. Elsie, Owen, and Lily were clinging to Paul, trying desperately to stop him from being dragged away.
Victor’s men and the others were in a tug-of-war, each side yanking one of Paul’s arms like they were trying to tear him in two.
Paul screamed nonstop, unable to break free from either side.
Oscar stood in the middle, glaring at the Saunders family members who were trying to help Paul. His voice was icy. “You’re still helping him?”
Owen’s forehead was bulging with veins. He shouted with everything he had. “Even if he killed someone, not even the court would sentence him to death on the spot! And you want to do it right in front of us? Are you trying to provoke the Powell family into going after us?”
If they couldn’t save Paul tonight, everyone here would be Jackson’s target.
Oscar slowly shook his head, deeply disappointed in Owen. “You’re pathetic-always putting your own safety first.”
There was no hope for someone like him to truly repent, let alone testify for Yunice and clear her name.
The struggle didn’t last long. The Saunders family was overpowered by the Crawfords, and Paul was shoved into a sack and dragged out.
Yunice didn’t care what would happen to Paul. She was already driving toward the Powell estate.
Her phone sat on the center console, and she kept checking for any message or call from Wyatt.
Nothing came.
Her unease only grew. She pulled up in front of the Powell residence and stopped the car.
Just as she was about to get out, a familiar figure appeared beneath the porch light.
He was tall, stepping out of the shadows beyond the reach of the light.
First came the outline of his frame, then his sharp, cold face, followed by his long shadow stretching across the ground.
Yunice’s hand froze on the car door.
Because someone else walked out behind Wyatt.
A woman in a leather jacket, shoulder-length straight hair, and a sharp, businesslike outfit.
It was Maine.
Wyatt walked ahead, frowning and shaking his hand.
Under the light, Yunice saw his fingers stained with blood. But from where she was, it was impossible to tell whether it was his or someone else’s.
Maine caught up and handed him a handkerchief, saying something to him.
Wyatt took it and wiped the back of his hand casually, looking visibly annoyed as he muttered something back before getting into the car.
Maine climbed into the passenger seat beside him.
Yunice’s mind swirled with confusion. She called Wyatt again.
But the call rang out with no answer.
Is his phone not with him? Or is he ignoring me on purpose?
She watched as Wyatt’s car drove off-heading in the opposite direction of the Crawford residence.
Yunice slowly lowered her hand from the door handle. She wasn’t getting out anymore.
Why didn’t Wyatt go to the Crawford residence?
Didn’t he know how important tonight was to her?
Or did he think that with Mr. Carl there, his presence didn’t matter?
Even if the outcome wouldn’t have changed, Yunice still minded that he had left her to face it alone.
She couldn’t let it go. The frustration boiled inside her. She gritted her teeth, turned the wheel, and started tailing Wyatt’s car.
I’m going to find out exactly what he’s doing.
Even at three in the morning, Silverburgh’s streets were still busy. Yunice weaved through traffic, careful not to let Wyatt spot her.
She soon noticed he was heading toward the Gardison Residence.
She knew exactly who lived there.
Her expression darkened. She turned the wheel and changed directions.
When she spotted a 24-hour pottery studio, she parked and went inside.
A few minutes later, she came back out holding something wrapped in paper.
Back in the car, she opened the navigation system’s traffic surveillance and cut through a shortcut leading directly to the route Wyatt would have to take to get to the Gardison Residence.
One hand on the wheel, the other dialing 911.
“I’d like to report something. I just saw a suspicious person at the Maple intersection. She’s carrying what looks like explosives and might be planning to use them. Please send officers immediately to check the area thoroughly.”
The dispatcher replied, “Understood. We’ve logged your report. Please leave your name and ID number for follow-up.”
Yunice gave a name and a long string of ID digits.
Except… the ID she gave was her first-generation card.
The one Elsie was using now.
After hanging up with 911, Yunice parked her car at Maple Intersection. She then took the ceramic glaze she’d snatched from the pottery studio, mixed the potassium nitrate with white sugar, poured it onto a piece of flattened clothing, and wrapped it up tightly. Once she was done, she moved the car to a legal parking spot, then walked over to a barricade at the intersection. On her phone screen, a red dot moved across the traffic map. That was Wyatt’s GPS signal.
Timing it precisely, Yunice clipped a windproof lighter to the wrapped clothing and hurled it with all her strength. In midair, the lighter ignited the bundle, setting off the chemical mix inside. Potassium nitrate and sugar could detonate in a flash and release thick smoke. With a loud bang, the bundle exploded before hitting the ground, erupting in a cloud of dense white smoke. Wyatt’s car pulled up just in time – his windshield instantly engulfed in the haze, visibility wiped out. At that moment, police cars arrived on the scene and sealed off the road, inspecting each vehicle one by one. When Yunice saw Wyatt and Maine step out of the car looking annoyed, she quickly ducked behind the barricade. Her eyes stayed fixed on Wyatt’s car. There was no way she could get into the heavily guarded Gardison Residence on her own. Even if she tailed Wyatt’s car all the way there, she’d just get left at the gate. So she had to find a way to get inside his car. The sharp, acrid smoke continued to billow, cloaking the vehicle. This is the perfect opportunity… Even at three in the morning, Silverburgh’s roads were buzzing, but the Gardison Residence sat on the outskirts, and this intersection didn’t see much traffic at this hour. Counting Wyatt’s car, there were only three vehicles. The cops finished their checks quickly. After clearing inspection, Wyatt returned to the car.
Maine had already opened the passenger door. When she saw Wyatt lingering outside, she urged, “Wyatt, come on. We’ve wasted enough time.” Wyatt’s dark eyes stayed fixed on the car. Something about the inspection felt off, and the smoke – it wasn’t right. When something feels out of place, there’s always a reason. He’d lived through too many surprises not to pick up on that. He walked toward the back of the vehicle, eyes locked on the trunk. Besides the undercarriage, it was the only place someone could hide. He reached out to press the trunk’s release.
Yunice was curled up inside. As the lid slowly rose and light spilled in, she held her breath. She clenched her fingers tightly. Even if he finds me, so what? I’ll just come clean. The trunk was halfway open when Maine called out, “Wyatt, Jordan just called me – he’s looking for you. Says it’s urgent.” The light faded. Wyatt lowered the trunk lid and stepped away to take the call. Yunice finally let out a long breath, though she wasn’t sure if not getting caught was a good thing or a bad one. She didn’t want to sneak around like this, but here she was. Curiosity really does kill the cat. The passenger-side door was open, and Wyatt was right outside, so Yunice could hear every word he said. “Yunice disappeared?” “You already searched the Crawford house? And she took Victor’s car? Where could she…” “She’s looking for me?” Wyatt’s voice tightened. Apparently, Jordan had suggested Yunice might have left to find him. Wow. That obvious, huh? There weren’t many people she cared enough about to do something like this. Wyatt was definitely one of them. Then Maine’s voice cut in again. “Wyatt, forget her for now. Isn’t Nora more important?” Yunice’s heart clenched. That one sentence felt like someone had gripped her heart in their hand – like it might be crushed any second.
She glanced toward the car door, even though she couldn’t see Wyatt from where she was. Wyatt ended the call and circled back to the driver’s side. Maine wasn’t sure if he’d changed his mind, so she hurried to say, “Wyatt, she’s perfectly fine – she left on her own. There’s no way she’s in danger.” “But if you don’t go see Nora tonight, you’ll regret it!” Yunice thought she heard the sound of Wyatt’s fingers tightening around the steering wheel. He was hesitating. Struggling. Torn. Yunice’s heart sank. So this is how it happens… Just earlier, she’d told Mr. Carl that Wyatt didn’t play favorites. She said he’d never been forced to choose. Well, now he has to choose, doesn’t he? Between her and Nora – who would he pick? But the thing about true favoritism… it doesn’t require a choice. And no matter who Wyatt chose, Yunice had already lost. Because real favoritism isn’t something you decide. It’s something you are.
Yunice suddenly felt a twinge of regret.
She shouldn’t have gotten in the car. Shouldn’t have heard that conversation. Jordan shouldn’t have called Wyatt and let him know she’d left the Crawford residence.
If not for that, maybe she could’ve kept her composure when she got caught.
But now, she just felt like a clown.
Maine kept pushing, pleading with him. “Nora’s been waiting for this day for two years. You can’t let her down.”
“Let Jordan go look for Yunice, okay?”
Wyatt hesitated for a few seconds, then said, “Give me your phone.”