Chapter 3 - THE FILE IN THE WALL
The police took us through a private corridor beneath the ballroom.
Lucia held my hand so tightly that her fingers turned white.
I kept telling myself to stay calm.
But my mother's face wouldn't leave my mind.
Rose Bennett.
My mother.
Dead for three years.
Or at least that's what I had believed.
A detective introduced herself as Mara Collins.
She was in her forties, calm, sharp-eyed, and completely unimpressed by the billionaire standing behind me.
"We need to ask you some questions."
"About my mother?"
"Yes."
"Why now?"
She glanced toward Adrian.
"Because someone delivered a package to the Boston Police Department tonight."
"What was inside?"
"A photograph."
She opened a folder.
I looked down.
The photograph showed my mother.
Alive.
Older than I remembered.
Standing outside a small motel.
The date printed on the back was eighteen months after her supposed death.
My knees almost gave out.
"That's impossible."
Detective Collins said nothing.
I stared at the photograph.
My mother was wearing the same blue scarf she had owned when I was a child.
Behind her stood a man.
His face had been scratched out.
"Who is that?"
"We don't know."
"Why do you think this is connected to Adrian?"
"We don't."
She looked at him.
"Yet."
Adrian stepped forward.
"Where was the photograph taken?"
"New Hampshire."
His jaw tightened.
"That doesn't make sense."
"Why?"
"Because my grandmother owned property there."
I turned toward him.
"You knew my mother?"
"Not personally."
"Then why do you look terrified?"
He didn't answer.
Eleanor did.
"Because my family has been lying for thirty-two years."
The detective looked at her.
"Mrs. Vale, we need to discuss that."
"No."
Eleanor's voice was suddenly firm.
"We need to discuss everything."
She sat down.
"My sister Rose disappeared in 1994."
I stared at her.
"1994?"
Eleanor nodded.
"She was twenty-three."
"My mother was born in 1968."
Eleanor looked at me.
"Then the dates match."
I felt dizzy.
"You're saying my mother was your sister?"
"I'm saying Rose Bennett was not her birth name."
I shook my head.
"Her name was Rose Bennett."
"No."
Eleanor reached into her handbag.
She produced an old newspaper clipping.
A young woman smiled from the front page.
The headline read:
VALE HEIRESS VANISHES AFTER FAMILY DISPUTE
Underneath was a name.
Rosalie Eleanor Vale.
I stared at the photograph.
My mother's eyes.
My mother's smile.
My mother's face.
I couldn't speak.
Adrian crouched beside me.
"Your mother was my grandmother's youngest daughter."
I looked at him.
"Then you're saying I'm—"
"My cousin."
The word felt unreal.
Lucia tugged my sleeve.
"Mama?"
I knelt beside her.
"It's okay."
"Is that man family?"
I looked at Adrian.
"I don't know."
He answered quietly.
"Yes."
Lucia studied him.
"Do you dance?"
For the first time that night, Adrian almost smiled.
"Badly."
Lucia giggled.
The sound broke the tension.
But it didn't last.
Detective Collins opened another folder.
"There is something else."
She placed an old document on the table.
It was a birth certificate.
My mother's name appeared at the top.
But the father's name had been blacked out.
"What is this?"
"A copy found inside a sealed family archive."
"Why would my birth certificate be in your family archive?"
The detective looked at Adrian.
"Because your mother may not have been the only person who disappeared."
Eleanor suddenly stood.
"Where did you get that?"
"From a private collection."
"Who gave it to you?"
"We can't disclose that yet."
Eleanor's face changed.
"You have to."
"Why?"
"Because whoever gave you that document may already be dead."
The room went silent.
Then someone screamed from the ballroom.
We all turned.
A waiter ran into the corridor.
"Mr. Vale!"
Adrian stood.
"What happened?"
"The lights went out."
"That's all?"
"No."
The waiter was shaking.
"Someone broke into your grandmother's private office."
Adrian's expression hardened.
"Nothing in that office is accessible to guests."
The waiter swallowed.
"They didn't steal anything."
"Then what did they do?"
"They left something."
"What?"
"A message."
He handed Adrian a folded piece of paper.
Adrian opened it.
His face went white.
I took the paper from him.
Four words were written in black ink.
ASK HER ABOUT THE FIRE.
I looked at Eleanor.
She was crying.
"What fire?"
Nobody answered.
Then Eleanor whispered:
"The night Rose disappeared."
She looked directly at me.
"Your mother was supposed to die that night."
My blood ran cold.
"But she didn't."
"No."
Eleanor looked toward Lucia.
"Someone saved her."
"Who?"
Eleanor shook her head.
"We never found out."
Adrian's phone rang.
He answered.
A few seconds later, his expression became unreadable.
"What?"
He listened.
Then looked at me.
"The security cameras just came back online."
"And?"
"They caught the person who entered the office."
"Who?"
Adrian didn't answer.
The detective took the phone.
She watched the footage.
Then froze.
"That's impossible."
I stepped closer.
On the screen was a woman in a dark coat.
Her face was hidden.
But she walked with a slight limp.
I knew that walk.
My mother had walked that way after a car accident when I was twelve.
I whispered:
"Mom?"
The woman turned toward the camera.
Then slowly lifted her hand.
She held up a photograph.
A photograph of me as a little girl.
May you like
Underneath it, written in red:
I'M SORRY I LEFT YOU.
