Chapter 3 - The Child With The Photograph
Kara had been told not to trust strangers.
Nicholas had repeated that rule so many times she could say it backward.
But children had a way of remembering the exceptions more than the rules.
Clare was an exception.
The moment Kara saw her, she had walked directly toward her.
"Are you really going to stay?"
Clare crouched.
"I don't know."
Kara frowned.
"My daddy always says people don't stay."
Nicholas stood behind her.
"Kara."
She turned.
"Sorry."
Clare noticed the little girl's hand was shaking.
She gently covered it.
"I don't plan on hurting you."
Kara looked up.
"I know."
Something inside Clare hurt.
She had known the child for less than a minute.
Yet somehow the girl's eyes looked familiar.
"How long have you been here?"
"Two days."
"Before that?"
Kara shrugged.
"Daddy says I can't tell."
Nicholas intervened.
"She doesn't know enough to answer."
Clare rose.
"Then tell me."
"No."
"You dragged me into your war."
"I didn't drag you."
"You did the moment you decided I was safer with you than alone."
His eyes narrowed.
"You're alive because of that decision."
"And this child?"
Silence.
Clare looked at Kara again.
"Who's her mother?"
Nicholas's jaw tightened.
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I know what I was told."
"Which was?"
"That her mother died."
Kara looked down.
"She didn't."
Nicholas froze.
Clare looked at her.
"What makes you say that?"
"Because she came to see me."
Nicholas crouched.
"When?"
"Last week."
"What did she look like?"
Kara hesitated.
"Pretty."
"Kara."
"She had a scar here."
The child touched her neck.
Nicholas went rigid.
"What kind of scar?"
"Like a line."
Clare felt the atmosphere change.
He stood.
"Show me the picture again."
Kara handed him the photograph.
The woman beside him wasn't random.
It was Evelyn Hart.
A woman who had once worked inside the Duca organization.
A woman officially listed as dead.
Nicholas stared at the image.
Clare noticed the date stamped on the corner.
Three weeks ago.
Impossible.
"Where did you get this?"
Kara pointed at the door.
"She gave it to the man."
"What man?"
"Mr. Gray."
Nicholas's face went cold.
"Adrian Gray?"
Kara nodded.
Clare watched him carefully.
"Who's Adrian Gray?"
Nicholas didn't answer.
Instead, he called someone.
"Matteo."
A man's voice answered.
"I need every file we have on Adrian Gray."
"That's going to take—"
"Now."
He hung up.
Clare folded her arms.
"You know who he is."
"Yes."
"And?"
"He was my second-in-command."
Her stomach tightened.
"Was?"
"He betrayed me."
Kara hugged the photograph.
"Daddy says bad people lie."
Nicholas looked at his daughter.
Then at Clare.
"He's very good at it."
The next morning, the bakery downstairs opened at six.
Clare made coffee.
Nicholas watched from the doorway as if the ordinary act confused him.
"You know you're making terrible coffee, right?"
Clare glared.
"I'm making free coffee."
"That's worse."
Kara giggled.
Nicholas glanced at her.
"Don't encourage her."
"It's not bad," Kara said.
"Traitor."
Clare smiled before she could stop herself.
Nicholas saw it.
Something softened in his face.
It vanished just as quickly.
Then Matteo arrived.
He was broad, quiet, and carried himself like someone who had survived too many rooms where people died.
He handed Nicholas a folder.
"Gray hasn't been seen publicly in eleven months."
"That's impossible."
"Exactly."
Clare listened.
"He erased his companies. Offshore accounts. New passports."
Nicholas flipped through the papers.
"And Evelyn?"
"Also missing."
"Together?"
Matteo hesitated.
"Possibly."
Nicholas looked at Clare.
She knew immediately that he was about to send her away.
"No."
He frowned.
"I didn't say anything."
"You were going to."
"You're not trained for this."
"I don't need training to understand paper."
She pointed at the folder.
"What is that?"
"A financial trail."
"Then let me see."
He handed it over reluctantly.
Clare scanned the documents.
Names.
Companies.
Dates.
Shipping manifests.
Hotel reservations.
She stopped.
"Wait."
Nicholas looked up.
"What?"
She tapped a page.
"This name."
"Evelyn."
"No. The hotel."
"Which hotel?"
Clare pointed.
"The Bellweather."
Nicholas took the page.
"You recognize it?"
"It is where I work."
His expression changed.
She kept going.
"This account paid for twelve rooms over six months."
"So?"
"They were all assigned to hotel employees."
Nicholas looked closer.
"Who?"
Clare read the list.
Two bellhops.
One driver.
Three housekeepers.
A laundry supervisor.
A security guard.
Then her eyes reached the final name.
Mrs. Chen.
Her face went cold.
"No."
Nicholas took the folder.
"What?"
Clare whispered.
"Mrs. Chen has been working there for twenty-one years."
"What's wrong?"
"One of these payments was made to an account under her maiden name."
Matteo's eyes narrowed.
Nicholas stared at Clare.
"Are you certain?"
"Yes."
He closed the folder.
"You found our leak."
Clare shook her head.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because Mrs. Chen isn't stupid."
Nicholas leaned against the table.
"That's not a defense."
"She's careful. Extremely careful. If she were working for someone, she'd have changed the records."
"Unless she wanted us to find them."
Clare looked at him.
"Exactly."
The room fell silent.
Kara suddenly spoke.
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"What's a mother's maiden name?"
Nicholas went still.
Kara pointed at Clare.
"Is hers important?"
Clare felt a cold sensation spread through her body.
Nicholas looked at the photograph again.
Then he looked at Clare's employee file.
"Your mother's name."
Clare's expression hardened.
"Why?"
"Just answer me."
"Anna Bennett."
His face changed.
Matteo stared.
"Nick."
"What?"
"I've seen that name."
"Where?"
"In the old Duca files."
Clare's pulse hammered.
"Why would my mother be in your files?"
Nicholas said nothing.
Matteo slowly opened another folder.
He turned a page.
Then another.
Finally, he put a photograph on the table.
Clare looked down.
Her mother was younger.
Standing beside a much younger Nicholas.
And beside them stood Evelyn Hart.
Clare's knees weakened.
"My mother knew you."
Nicholas looked at the photograph as if it belonged to another life.
"Your mother saved my life."
Clare stared.
"When?"
"Three years before the explosion."
"Why didn't she ever tell me?"
"Because I asked her not to."
"Why?"
Nicholas's voice was barely audible.
"Because your mother was the last person who knew the truth about my father."
Clare shook her head.
"My father is dead."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because he isn't your father."
The room went silent.
Clare could barely breathe.
"What did you just say?"
Nicholas met her eyes.
May you like
"The man you called your father wasn't your biological father."
The world tilted.
