Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH BENEATH THE TRUTH
The silence in the room was heavier than concrete.
"Hannah?" Silas’s voice was a low rumble, demanding an answer.
Maren’s smile widened, triumphant and vicious. "Go on, tell him. Tell him how you managed to get a job in the most secure mansion in the city. Tell him why you're really here."
My hands shook. I stepped between Sophie and Maren, instinctively shielding the little girl. "Mr. Rourke," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I have no idea what she’s talking about. I applied through the agency fourteen months ago. You ran my background check yourself."
"A background check can be faked," Maren sneered. "Just look at her. Look at how she clings to your daughter. She’s trying to replace Elena."
Silas didn't look at Maren. His eyes were locked on me, searching my face. For a second, I thought he was going to fire me right then and there. I thought about the overdue tuition, the empty fridge, the eviction notice sitting on my kitchen counter.
But Silas did something unexpected. He looked down at the music box in his hand. He turned it over.
My breath hitched.
He saw the photograph.
It was a small, passport-sized picture of Leo, smiling missing his two front teeth. Silas peeled it off the bottom of the box. He stared at it for a long, agonizing moment.
"Who is this?" he asked.
Maren laughed nervously. "Probably her brat. See? She's hiding things."
"This is my son, Leo," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "But I didn't put that picture there."
Silas looked at Sophie. "Sweetheart, did you tape this to the box?"
Sophie shook her head vigorously. "No, Daddy. Mommy did."
The room spun. Why would Elena, a woman I had never met, a woman who died three years ago, have a picture of my son?
"Mommy said the boy in the picture was her guardian angel," Sophie whispered. "She said he saved her once."
Silas closed his eyes, a muscle feathering in his jaw. When he opened them, the anger was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating focus. He looked at Maren.
"Get out."
Maren gasped. "Silas, you can't be serious. Our guests are downstairs! The wedding is on Saturday!"
"There is no wedding," Silas said. "Pack your things. My men will escort you off the property in fifteen minutes. If you try to take anything that doesn't belong to you, you won't leave at all."
Maren’s face contorted with rage. "You're making a mistake! She’s playing you!" She pointed at me again. "She’s one of them!"
"Out," Silas roared, the mafia boss finally showing his teeth.
Maren flinched, turned on her heel, and ran down the hall.
Silas knelt in front of Sophie, gently handing her the music box, but keeping the recorder and the photograph. "You were very brave tonight, baby. I am so proud of you."
Sophie hugged him tight. "Are you mad at me, Daddy?"
"Never," he whispered, kissing the top of her head. He stood up and looked at me. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by the ruthless interrogation of a man who trusted no one.
"My office. Five minutes. Bring the picture," he ordered, before turning and walking away.
I stood there, trembling. I walked Sophie to her bed, tucked her in, and promised to check on her later. Then, I made my way to the west wing, my heart pounding in my throat.
When I entered Silas's office, the heavy oak door clicked shut behind me. The room smelled of leather and expensive scotch. Silas was standing by the window, looking out into the dark garden.
He turned around and tossed something onto his heavy mahogany desk.
"Maren left this on the entryway table in her rush to pack," he said quietly.
I looked down. It was a man’s gold pocket watch, its chain broken.
"Do you recognize it?" he asked.
I stared at the engraved initials on the gold casing. L.B.
May you like
I couldn't breathe. I reached out and touched the cold metal. "Yes," I choked out. "It belonged to my husband. He died four years ago."
Silas took a step closer, his shadow falling over me. "Then why did Maren have it in her coat pocket?"
