Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
The next morning, detectives arrived.
Kareen was taken away for questioning.
Not arrested.
Not yet.
But she wasn't allowed to leave the hospital.
I sat beside Alora's bed while Mara gave the detectives her recordings.
For hours, I said almost nothing.
My mind kept returning to the photograph.
The woman.
The baby.
My father.
My birth date.
Finally, I asked Mara:
“Where did you find the original birth records?”
She shook her head.
“Mom took them.”
“What about the woman in the photograph?”
“I've been searching.”
“Find her.”
“I will.”
Two hours later, Mara called.
“I found a name.”
My heart raced.
“Who?”
“Evelyn Hart.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But the detective standing nearby suddenly looked interested.
“Evelyn Hart?”
“Yes.”
He pulled out his notebook.
“She disappeared thirty years ago.”
I stared at him.
“Disappeared?”
“According to old records, she left California shortly after giving birth.”
“Where did she go?”
“We don't know.”
Mara looked at me.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“She had a son.”
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“When?”
“Thirty years ago.”
I closed my eyes.
The detective asked:
“Do you have DNA records?”
“No.”
“Then we need to find her.”
That afternoon, I returned home.
The mansion felt different.
It no longer felt like my house.
It felt like a crime scene.
The bedroom still smelled faintly of blood and perfume.
I stood beside the safe.
The door was open.
Empty.
Then I noticed something scratched into the inside panel.
Three letters.
E.H.
I touched them.
A memory surfaced.
My father kneeling beside me when I was six.
His hand on my shoulder.
His voice.
“If anything ever happens to me, trust Evelyn.”
I staggered backward.
I had forgotten that sentence.
Completely.
Until now.
I called Mara.
“Come home.”
She arrived ten minutes later.
I showed her the letters.
Her eyes widened.
“Evelyn Hart.”
“Yes.”
“We need to find her.”
We spent the afternoon searching old records.
At sunset, we found an address.
A small property in Oregon.
I booked the first flight.
Alora couldn't travel yet, so she remained under observation.
I kissed her forehead before leaving.
“I'll be back.”
She grabbed my hand.
“Thane.”
“What?”
“Be careful.”
“Why?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because I think your mother isn't afraid of losing the money.”
“What is she afraid of?”
Alora whispered:
“You finding out who your father really was.”
I stared at her.
“Who?”
She shook her head.
“I don't know.”
I flew to Oregon with Mara that night.
The house was hidden among tall pine trees.
An elderly woman opened the door.
Gray hair.
Blue eyes.
A silver necklace.
The moment she saw me, she dropped the mug in her hand.
It shattered.
She whispered:
“Michael?”
I froze.
“My name is Thane.”
She stared at me.
Then covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Mara stepped forward.
“Are you Evelyn Hart?”
The woman began crying.
“Yes.”
I showed her the photograph.
She didn't need to look twice.
“That was me.”
My heartbeat thundered.
“And the baby?”
Her eyes met mine.
“You.”
I couldn't speak.
Mara started crying.
I whispered:
“Who is my father?”
Evelyn closed the door.
“Come inside.”
We sat around a small kitchen table.
Evelyn told us everything.
My biological mother had been her younger sister.
Her name was Clara.
She had fallen in love with my father.
Kareen discovered the affair.
“She wanted your father dead,” Evelyn said.
“But he survived?”
“For a while.”
“What happened?”
Evelyn looked at me.
“He asked me to hide you.”
“From Kareen?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Kareen had already killed once.”
I leaned forward.
“Who?”
“Your biological mother.”
My blood went cold.
“She died?”
Evelyn nodded.
“She was murdered two weeks after you were born.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Who killed her?”
Evelyn's answer was barely audible.
“Your mother.”
I stood.
Then Evelyn said:
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
May you like
She pointed to the photograph.
“That baby wasn't supposed to survive.”
