Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
I stared at the photograph until the faces blurred.
My mother.
Looking twenty years younger, smiling brightly next to the woman whose bedroom was just down the hall.
“I don't understand,” I whispered.
“Elena was an orphan,” Nicholas said quietly. “Or so I thought. When we married, she told me she had no surviving family. She said her past was too painful to talk about.”
He tapped the photograph.
“Your mother is wearing the exact same silver rosary we found upstairs.”
My mind raced.
My mother. A quiet, anxious woman who worked as a seamstress in Queens. A woman who always insisted we keep a low profile, who never let me post photos online, who nearly had a panic attack when I took a job in the Hamptons.
“Are they… sisters?” I asked.
“I don't know yet,” Nicholas admitted. “But Dominic knew. He must have recognized the connection. That’s why he specifically requested you from that agency.”
“To frame me,” I realized. “Because if the police investigated, they’d find out I was related to Elena. They’d think I came here for revenge. To steal Ethan.”
It was the perfect scapegoat.
Suddenly, Marcus ran back into the library.
“Boss. The local police just pulled up to the main gate.”
Nicholas frowned. “I didn't call them.”
“We didn't either,” Marcus said grimly. “Vivienne did.”
My heart dropped.
“She’s telling them you shot Dominic,” Marcus continued. “And that the nanny has taken Ethan hostage in the library.”
Nicholas swore under his breath.
Vivienne was playing her final card. She knew if the police came in, they would find the fake passport, the plane tickets, and a terrified child.
It would validate Dominic’s entire story.
“Marcus, stall them at the gate,” Nicholas commanded.
“I can only buy you five minutes, boss. They have a warrant.”
Nicholas turned to me.
He grabbed my shoulders.
“Claire, listen to me very carefully.”
He looked into my eyes, his gaze piercing.
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation.
He reached over to the bookshelf, grabbed a heavy, leather-bound encyclopedia, and pulled it forward.
With a mechanical click, the entire bookcase swung outward, revealing a dark, narrow staircase leading down into the walls of the estate.
A hidden passage.
“Take Ethan,” Nicholas said. “Go down these stairs. They lead to the old bootlegger tunnels under the property. At the end, there’s a boathouse. My private boat is there. The keys are in the ignition.”
“What about you?” I asked, panic rising in my throat.
“I have to stay and deal with the police. I have to clear your name.”
He knelt down and kissed Ethan’s forehead.
“Be brave for Claire, okay?”
Ethan nodded, tears in his eyes.
I took Ethan’s hand and stepped into the dark passageway.
“Claire,” Nicholas called out just as the bookcase started to close.
I looked back.
He tossed something toward me.
I caught it.
It was his own cell phone.
May you like
“There’s only one number saved in the contacts,” Nicholas said. “Call it when you’re safe.”
The bookcase shut, plunging us into total darkness.
