Chapter 5 - The Mother in the Photograph
August had spent 28 years believing his mother was dead.
Now he held a photograph proving otherwise.
His hands shook.
Marin heard it in his breathing.
“Tell me about her.”
“My mother’s name was Evelyn.”
“What happened to her?”
“My father said she died after a long illness.”
Dela shook her head.
“She was alive when I was taken.”
August stared at her.
“You saw her?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At the clinic.”
Marin realized something.
Dr. Vane.
The same clinic.
“The woman in the photograph,” Dela continued, “was visiting me.”
August’s voice lowered.
“Why?”
“She wanted to know whether I had remembered the fire.”
“Did she tell you who she was?”
“No.”
“But you recognized her.”
Dela nodded.
“She came with your brother.”
August sat down.
“Adrian knew she was alive.”
“Yes.”
“And my father knew.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
The room felt colder.
August opened the memory card.
There were dozens of recordings.
Adrian's voice.
Evelyn's voice.
Then August’s father.
The recordings revealed a conspiracy far larger than anyone expected.
August's father had been working with a corrupt political broker.
But the leader was not August's father.
It was Evelyn.
She had discovered that her husband intended to take complete control of the family organization.
She resisted.
Adrian helped her.
She went into hiding.
The fire had been staged to make it appear that Evelyn and Dela had died.
August had been deliberately fed false information.
Why?
Because his father wanted him hardened.
He wanted August to inherit the organization without questioning the past.
Marin sat beside him.
“Your father shaped you.”
August stared at the floor.
“He turned me into what he needed.”
“Yes.”
“I became exactly what he feared.”
“No.”
She placed her hand over his heart.
“You became what you thought you had to become.”
He looked at her.
“And you?”
“I became someone who stopped asking whether I deserved to live.”
Dela watched them quietly.
She understood.
The three of them had been carrying different versions of the same lie.
Then a phone rang.
August answered.
His father.
The voice was calm.
“You found Evelyn’s recordings.”
August's expression hardened.
“Yes.”
“I knew you would.”
“Where are you?”
“Where your mother was last seen.”
A pause.
“The old Rail theater.”
The line ended.
August stood.
Marin rose too.
“We’re going.”
Dela shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s where he wants you.”
Marin smiled.
“So we make him think he got what he wanted.”
They devised a plan.
August would arrive publicly.
Marin would enter through the service tunnels.
Dela would stay with Enzo.
But things went wrong immediately.
The theater was empty.
No father.
No Evelyn.
Only dozens of candles.
A piano sat onstage.
Another Bösendorfer.
Marin approached it.
Her fingers touched the keys.
A hidden compartment clicked.
Inside was a single envelope.
August opened it.
The message said:
SHE WAS NEVER YOUR MOTHER.
He looked up.
Marin’s heart sank.
“What?”
The envelope contained a DNA report.
It claimed Evelyn was not August’s biological mother.
For years, someone had fabricated her identity.
August stared at the pages.
“This can't be true.”
Marin touched his face.
“Don't trust a piece of paper just because it wants to hurt you.”
He looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because people lie differently from instruments.”
She tapped the document.
“This was printed to create fear.”
Suddenly, applause came from the balcony.
August's father appeared.
He looked older.
Tired.
But calm.
“My son.”
August raised his weapon.
“You lied to me.”
His father sighed.
“I lied to protect you.”
“You killed Adrian.”
“No.”
“You murdered him.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
His father looked at Marin.
“Her.”
Silence.
Marin felt the blood leave her face.
“What?”
“Your sister saw the truth.”
Dela emerged from the shadows.
“What are you talking about?”
August's father smiled.
“Ask Dela where she really was the night of the fire.”
Dela froze.
August turned toward her.
“Dela?”
She looked at Marin.
Then at August.
Tears filled her eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
Marin stepped back.
“No.”
May you like
Dela whispered.
“I started the fire.”
