The Bond Between Us ( Anastasia and Herman) novel Chapter 899

Katelyn shot Daria a sharp look. “That’s no way to speak, young lady. Say you’re sorry.”

Seeing Daria get scolded, Autumn’s heart ached for her. “It’s okay, really. She’s just a kid. They all act up sometimes.”

But Daria shouted, “She’s mean! She yelled at Daddy!”

Kids have a way of knowing who’s good to them and who isn’t. They feel it deep down.

Katelyn huffed, exasperated. “Honestly, where are your manners? Sometimes I wonder if you have a mother at all. Flynn, take Daria upstairs.”

That last jab—saying it’s like Daria had a mother but no one to teach her—cut Autumn to the core.

Bitterness welled up inside her, but she forced herself to stay composed.

Flynn scooped up Daria and tried to lighten the mood. “Come on, let’s go see if Emmie and Nancy want to play.”

Daria was adorable and usually sweet as sugar—except when Autumn was around. Flynn liked her anyway. Kids shouldn’t have to be dragged into grown-up messes.

On the way upstairs, Daria just kept chattering away, making Flynn laugh as she promised she’d find him a girlfriend someday.

Flynn couldn’t help but be curious about why Daria was so hostile toward Autumn.

Once they were upstairs, Flynn asked gently, “Hey, Daria, why were you so upset with that lady downstairs? Did she do something to your dad?”

Daria, only two, couldn’t really put her feelings into words. She buried her face in Flynn’s shoulder and mumbled, “She’s bad. I don’t like her.”

Flynn grinned, “That’s fair. You don’t have to like her. Honestly, I’m not her biggest fan either.”

Daria’s eyes lit up. “Really, Uncle Flynn? You don’t like her too?”

“Nope, not at all.” Flynn smiled. “So, who do you like best, huh?”

He was fishing for a compliment, hoping she’d say him.

Without hesitating, Daria chirped, “Daddy. And Aunt Ana.”

Aunt Ana was Anastasia.

Just the mention of her name made Flynn sigh. He wondered how Ana was holding up these days.

***

Southridge Estates

After ten minutes of knocking with no answer, Herman shot Dailey a look. Dailey pulled a card and some wire from his pocket and had the door open in no time.

As soon as they stepped inside, the metallic tang of blood filled the air. Herman’s stomach twisted. He hurried in.

His fears were confirmed—Ben was dead, slumped on the floor.

It was all too convenient. The moment they found a lead, it was snuffed out.

Dailey checked for a pulse. “Boss, he’s been dead less than half an hour.”

Which meant Ben had died just as they were on their way.

Ben had no family, no kids, no wife—just years of working at Northside Penitentiary. He was in his fifties and lived alone.

Herman’s voice was cold. “Call the police.”

The cops arrived quickly, combed through the place, and confirmed only Herman and Dailey had entered.

The autopsy was straightforward: heart attack. Nothing suspicious—at least, that’s what the report said.

But Herman knew better. Ben’s death was too sudden, too coincidental. The trail had gone cold, and Herman was left standing at another dead end.