Chapter 2 - The Dead Woman in the Photograph
Elina did not go home that night.
She didn't know where home was supposed to be.
The apartment she rented above a laundromat suddenly felt too small.
Too ordinary.
Too fragile for the questions racing through her mind.
Instead, she sat in the back of Adrian Ortega's armored SUV with his baby sleeping against her chest.
She didn't know why she had agreed to go.
Fear, perhaps.
Or the expression in Adrian's eyes.
He could have threatened her.
He could have ordered his men to keep her there.
He didn't.
He simply said:
“If you walk away tonight, I won't stop you.”
Then he had paused.
“But tomorrow, I will still need answers.”
The mansion was enormous.
Not beautiful in the warm sense.
Beautiful like a museum.
Stone.
Glass.
Dark wood.
Long hallways illuminated by soft recessed lights.
Security cameras hidden everywhere.
Men standing silently behind doors.
Elina stepped inside carrying the baby.
A woman in a navy dress hurried toward her.
She stopped when she saw the infant sleeping peacefully.
Her mouth fell open.
“That cannot be Leo.”
Adrian looked at her.
“It is.”
The woman covered her mouth.
“I've never seen him sleep in someone's arms.”
“He doesn't.”
“Apparently he does now.”
The woman looked at Elina.
“Who is she?”
“Elina.”
The woman's eyes narrowed.
“I'm Celeste. Adrian's sister.”
Elina nodded awkwardly.
“Nice to meet you.”
Celeste didn't respond.
She looked at the child.
Then at Elina.
Then at her brother.
Adrian simply said:
“Get the guest room ready.”
Celeste looked horrified.
“You're keeping her here?”
“For tonight.”
“Adrian—”
“Tonight.”
Celeste closed her mouth.
She knew better than to argue.
Elina was led upstairs.
The nursery was filled with expensive toys.
None had been touched.
Stacks of unopened gifts sat beside a white crib.
A professional nanny stood near the window.
When she saw Leo asleep in Elina's arms, she began crying.
“Elina,” Adrian said, “put him down.”
Elina carefully lowered the baby into the crib.
The instant her arms emptied, Leo woke.
He screamed.
Not fussed.
Screamed.
Elina jumped.
Adrian tried to pick him up.
The baby arched away.
The nanny stepped forward.
Same reaction.
Celeste tried.
Worse.
Leo screamed until his face went red.
Then Elina reached into the crib.
The child immediately quieted.
He grabbed her finger.
Adrian stared.
The nanny whispered:
“He has done this for nine months.”
Elina looked at Adrian.
“Maybe he just likes me.”
Adrian's expression remained grim.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he has rejected everyone who ever made him feel safe.”
The words stayed between them.
Elina looked down at Leo.
His eyes were already closing.
“Maybe he remembers something.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Babies don't remember strangers.”
“Maybe I'm not a stranger.”
Silence.
The sentence had slipped out before she could stop it.
Adrian looked at her.
Elina immediately wished she could take it back.
He stepped closer.
“Tomorrow morning, we're going to see someone.”
“Who?”
“An investigator.”
“I thought you didn't trust investigators.”
“I don't.”
“Then why take me?”
“Because if someone changed your identity, I want to know.”
Elina went cold.
“My identity?”
“I don't know what happened.”
He looked toward the photograph mounted on the nursery wall.
It showed Sofia holding a newborn Leo.
Her smile was tired.
Happy.
Alive.
Elina stared at it.
The resemblance was undeniable.
“How long have you known?”
“About the resemblance?”
“Yes.”
“Since the first second I saw you.”
“And you didn't call the police?”
Adrian almost smiled.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the police are not who I call when something makes no sense.”
The next morning, Elina met Dr. Miriam Clarke.
She had been Adrian's private physician for years.
She examined Elina carefully.
Hair.
Eyes.
Facial structure.
Voice.
Then she examined the photograph of Sofia.
“I need permission to compare the photographs,” Dr. Clarke said.
“To what?”
“Old medical records.”
Elina looked at Adrian.
“No one asked me.”
“You aren't a criminal suspect,” Adrian said.
“I feel like one.”
“I know.”
After an hour, Dr. Clarke emerged with a folder.
“There is no simple answer.”
Elina's stomach tightened.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing medically.”
Dr. Clarke placed two reports on the table.
“Sofia Ortega had a distinctive facial structure. Your measurements are unusually close.”
“How close?”
“Close enough that a stranger might mistake you for siblings.”
Elina swallowed.
“Could we be related?”
“Yes.”
Adrian's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression darkened.
“Now?”
A pause.
“Understood.”
He ended the call.
“What?”
“One of my men found something.”
They returned to the restaurant.
The framed photograph had been removed.
Behind it was a hidden compartment.
Inside was an envelope.
Adrian opened it.
One page.
A handwritten note.
If she ever comes back, don't trust her.
Elina stared.
“Who wrote that?”
Adrian turned the page over.
A second line appeared.
Sofia is not dead.
Nobody spoke.
The restaurant suddenly felt freezing.
Adrian's brother, Mateo, arrived.
He read the message.
“You need to get her out of here.”
Adrian looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because if this is real, then whoever left it knows where we are.”
Elina's voice shook.
“Who is Sofia?”
Adrian looked at her.
“My wife.”
“I know that.”
“No.”
He stared at the message.
“My wife is supposed to be dead.”
Elina looked at the paper.
Then at the photograph.
And slowly said:
“What if the person who wrote this wanted you to believe she died?”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“That's exactly what I'm beginning to think.”
At that moment, Leo started crying from the other room.
Elina ran toward him.
Adrian followed.
The baby stopped the moment she picked him up.
And for the first time, Elina noticed something strange.
A tiny birthmark behind Leo's ear.
May you like
A crescent-shaped mark.
She had the same one.
