Chapter 3 - The Painting Her Father Left Behind Revealed That Someone Had Been Watching Sadie Since She Was a ChildWhitmore Gallery opened at nine.
Grant arrived at eight twenty.
Sadie entered beside him.
She wore a borrowed sweater from Mrs. Dalton.
Her face was still bruised.
She looked smaller than usual.
Grant noticed.
He didn't say anything.
He walked beside her without touching her.
The gallery was empty.
Too empty.
Sadie unlocked the restoration room.
Everything looked normal.
That frightened her.
“Where is it?”
She pointed toward the back wall.
A portrait of her mother hung beneath a skylight.
Her mother smiled in the painting.
Young.
Beautiful.
Happy.
Grant stood in front of it.
“Who painted this?”
“My father.”
Sadie stepped closer.
“He painted it before I was born.”
Grant noticed something beneath the frame.
A small metal plate.
He touched it.
Nothing.
Sadie frowned.
“That's new.”
“What?”
“The plate.”
Grant examined it.
“Hidden compartment.”
“How do you know?”
“I've had a complicated life.”
He removed the plate.
Inside was a small envelope.
Sadie's breathing stopped.
Her name was written on it.
SADIE.
Her hands shook as she opened it.
Inside was one sentence.
If you're reading this, Arthur failed.
Grant looked at her.
“Keep going.”
The next page contained a photograph.
Her father.
Grant's father.
And a third man.
Sadie's expression changed.
“Who is that?”
Grant stared.
He recognized him.
“Thomas Reed.”
“Who?”
“My father's former partner.”
Sadie looked at the photograph again.
“My father knew him?”
“He did.”
“Why?”
Grant turned it over.
A date.
Twenty-seven years earlier.
The year before Sadie was born.
Then another note.
Thomas knows what happened to the Hale family fortune.
Sadie looked at Grant.
“Your family had a fortune?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My father lost it.”
“How?”
“He was betrayed.”
“By Thomas?”
Grant nodded.
“According to this.”
A sound came from the hallway.
Both turned.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Grant moved in front of Sadie.
“Stay behind me.”
A man appeared.
Older.
Gray hair.
Black suit.
Sadie had never seen him before.
Grant had.
His face hardened.
“Victor Kane.”
The man smiled.
“Hello, Grant.”
Sadie looked between them.
“Who is he?”
“Someone who should be dead.”
Victor laughed.
“That's rude.”
Grant's gun appeared.
Victor raised his hands.
“I'm not here to hurt anyone.”
“Then why are you here?”
“For the painting.”
Grant glanced at the portrait.
Victor smiled.
“Your father was right.”
“About what?”
“That the secret would survive.”
Sadie stepped forward.
“What secret?”
Victor looked at her.
“Your mother.”
She froze.
“What about her?”
“She's alive.”
Sadie nearly fell.
Grant caught her before she hit the ground.
“That's impossible.”
Victor shrugged.
“You've believed a lot of lies.”
Sadie stared.
“My mother died when I was fourteen.”
“No.”
“Her funeral—”
“Was staged.”
Grant's voice became dangerous.
“Who staged it?”
Victor looked at him.
“Your father.”
Silence.
Sadie felt dizzy.
“My father killed my mother?”
“No.”
Victor smiled.
“He hid her.”
“Why?”
“To protect her.”
“From whom?”
Victor looked toward Grant.
“From his father.”
Grant froze.
“My father?”
Victor nodded.
“Your father wanted the ledger.”
Grant stared.
“And Thomas took it.”
Sadie whispered:
“My father?”
Victor looked at her.
“Your father didn't steal from the Hales.”
“He stole the ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The one that proves who truly owns the empire.”
Grant's jaw tightened.
The drive.
The painting.
The missing mother.
The betrayed fathers.
Everything was connected.
Victor stepped backward.
“I've told you enough.”
Grant raised his weapon.
“You're not leaving.”
Victor smiled.
“Of course I am.”
He threw a smoke grenade.
The gallery filled with white smoke.
Grant grabbed Sadie.
“Stay low.”
They rushed toward the rear exit.
But when the smoke cleared, Victor was gone.
On the floor lay a photograph.
Sadie's mother.
Alive.
Standing beside Thomas Reed.
Sadie's knees buckled.
Grant caught her.
For the second time that night, he held her.
This time she didn't pull away.
“My mother is alive,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“Why would everyone lie?”
“I don't know.”
She looked up at him.
“Will you help me find her?”
Grant stared into her eyes.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“Even if she hates your family?”
“Yes.”
“Even if your father was responsible?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Grant had no answer.
So he gave her the truth.
“Because somebody should have helped your family years ago.”
Sadie stared at him.
Then quietly:
“Thank you.”
Grant looked away.
He didn't trust what that gratitude did to him.
Neither did she.
That night, they returned to his penthouse.
Sadie couldn't sleep.
She sat by the window.
Grant found her there.
“You should rest.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because if my mother is alive, I've lost fourteen years with her.”
Grant sat beside her.
“I know.”
She looked at him.
“Do you?”
“My mother died when I was sixteen.”
Sadie's expression softened.
“What happened?”
Grant looked toward the city.
“My father couldn't save her.”
“Did he try?”
“Yes.”
“Then why do you hate him?”
Grant's jaw tightened.
“Because he became worse after.”
“Worse how?”
“He started believing fear was the only thing that kept people safe.”
Sadie stared at him.
“And you?”
Grant smiled without humor.
“I'm his son.”
She reached toward him.
Stopped.
Then touched his hand.
Grant looked at their fingers.
Neither moved.
“Maybe you're not him,” she whispered.
Grant looked at her.
“I hope you're right.”
Then his phone rang.
Paul.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We traced the drive.”
“To where?”
“Your father’s old private vault.”
Grant froze.
“That place was sealed.”
“It was reopened tonight.”
“By whom?”
Paul hesitated.
“Your signature.”
Grant slowly looked at Sadie.
May you like
Someone was using his identity.
And whoever it was had just opened the one place in his world that had remained untouched for twenty-five years.
Related Stories
