Chapter 2 - THE PHOTOGRAPH
The dining room went completely silent.
The object sitting on the white tablecloth wasn’t a weapon.
It wasn't a bank statement.
It was a photograph.
Faded at the edges, slightly bent, like it had been carried in a wallet for years.
I looked at the picture.
It showed Victoria.
She looked younger, her hair pulled back, wearing a simple cotton dress instead of designer silk.
But she wasn't alone.
She was sitting on a park bench, holding a little boy.
The boy was maybe four years old, with bright blue eyes and dark, curly hair.
Victoria was looking at the child with a kind of raw, desperate love I had never seen on her face before.
I looked up at her.
Victoria was shaking.
Her arrogant, cruel posture had completely collapsed.
“Adrian,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Where did you get this?”
Adrian didn’t raise his voice.
He didn't have to.
His quiet tone was far more terrifying.
“I hired a new security firm to do a final sweep before the wedding,” Adrian said. “They found a safety deposit box under a fake name. Your fake name, Victoria.”
He took a step closer to her.
“You told me you had no family. You told me you were an only child. You told me you had never been married.”
He pointed at the photograph.
“Who is the boy, Victoria?”
Victoria covered her face with her hands.
A sob broke through her chest.
“He’s my son,” she wept. “His name is Leo.”
I gasped softly.
A child. She had a child.
But the shock of her secret wasn't the worst part.
Adrian leaned forward, his hands resting on the table.
“That’s the first truth you’ve told in a year,” Adrian said. “Now tell my mother the second truth.”
Victoria shook her head wildly. “Adrian, please. Don't do this.”
“Tell her,” Adrian commanded.
Victoria looked at me.
Her mascara was running down her cheeks.
“I... I didn't want to marry him,” she choked out.
I frowned. “You didn't want to marry Adrian?”
“No,” Adrian interrupted, his eyes burning with a cold fire. “Look closer at the photograph, Mom. Look at where they are sitting.”
I picked up the photo.
My hands trembled as I brought it closer to the light.
Behind Victoria and the little boy, there was a distinctive wrought-iron gate.
And beyond the gate, a stone fountain shaped like a weeping angel.
My blood ran cold.
I knew that fountain.
I had planted the roses around it twenty-five years ago.
“That’s our lake house,” I whispered. “The one we sold three years ago.”
I looked at Victoria in horror.
“This picture was taken on Romano property. Years before you ever met my son.”
Victoria stopped crying.
Her face went completely blank.
Adrian crossed his arms.
“She didn't meet me by accident, Mom. She was planted here.”
May you like
Adrian reached into his pocket again.
“And whoever sent her,” he said, pulling out a small slip of paper, “gave her this.”
