Chapter 3 - The Black Envelope Contained a Photograph of My Daughters Before They Were Born, Proving Someone Had Known About My Pregnancy Eight Years AgoThe black envelope remained sealed.
Griffin wanted it opened only with federal witnesses present.
I agreed.
Inside was one photograph.
Me.
Eight years earlier.
Pregnant.
Standing outside a clinic.
I stared.
“I never knew this existed.”
Griffin's face darkened.
The photograph was dated.
Nine months before the twins were born.
Someone had been watching me before I disappeared.
On the back:
THEY CARRY BOTH BLOODLINES.
Another photograph.
Griffin.
Holding an ultrasound image.
He didn't recognize it.
I stared.
It had been taken from my old medical records.
Someone had accessed my pregnancy file.
Then came the final photograph.
My mother.
Dead eight years earlier.
Standing beside a Bellmont man.
Griffin recognized him.
“Victor Bellmont.”
I looked at him.
“Who is he?”
“He's the family's chief strategist.”
“Was?”
“No.”
“He's alive?”
Griffin nodded.
“He's been missing for six years.”
The envelope contained a location.
An abandoned monastery.
And one sentence:
BRING THE TWINS.
Griffin burned the paper.
“We're not going.”
I nodded.
“Then what?”
“We find Victor.”
We searched.
The trail led to an old investment company.
Then a charity.
Then a school.
Victor had built a network inside legitimate institutions.
He wasn't simply hunting the twins.
He had been watching them grow.
Teachers.
Doctors.
Neighbors.
Every place they went.
Someone had been reporting.
I felt sick.
“They've watched my daughters their entire lives.”
Griffin looked at me.
“I know.”
“I thought I was protecting them.”
“You did.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“I changed names.”
“I know.”
“We moved.”
“I know.”
“I kept them away from you.”
“I know.”
“And they still found them.”
Griffin took my face gently in his hands.
“This isn't your fault.”
I looked at him.
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I know what they do.”
He paused.
“They don't stop until they own what they want.”
Then Iris came into the room.
“Mommy?”
“Yes?”
“Daddy?”
Griffin turned.
“I'm here.”
She held a piece of paper.
“I found this in your old desk.”
I took it.
A handwritten note.
My handwriting.
But I didn't remember writing it.
If they ever find the girls, trust Griffin.
I stared.
I had apparently written it eight years ago.
Before I disappeared.
I had been preparing for the possibility.
Maybe some part of me always knew I couldn't protect them alone.
Griffin read it.
Then looked at me.
“You trusted me even when you ran.”
I nodded.
“Apparently.”
He smiled faintly.
Then the hospital alarm sounded.
A nurse screamed.
Someone had entered the pediatric floor.
Griffin moved instantly.
He grabbed Iris.
I grabbed Hazel.
The doors locked.
A man appeared at the end of the hallway.
Victor Bellmont.
Older.
Gray-haired.
Smiling.
He looked directly at the twins.
“Finally.”
Griffin stood in front of us.
“You've been looking for them.”
May you like
Victor smiled.
“For eight years.”
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