Chapter 4 - The Woman in the PhotographWe returned to the mansion after dark.
Not because it was safe.
Because it was the only place we could defend.
Damian doubled security.
Maria took Lily upstairs.
I entered my old bedroom and opened the false bottom beneath the wardrobe.
The key was still there.
Small.
Brass.
I had carried it through three apartments and two states without ever knowing why.
Now I knew.
My father had intended me to find something.
We drove to the address hidden inside the key's engraving.
It led to an abandoned bank downtown.
The building had been closed for twelve years.
Damian broke the lock.
Inside, we found a wall of safety deposit boxes.
One had my father's initials.
E.H.
My father's name was Elias Hart.
Damian looked at me.
“Why E.H.?”
“My middle name.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed to the box.
Edward Hart.
I stared.
My father's full name had never been Elias Hart.
It was Edward Hart.
He had stolen part of his identity.
We opened the box.
Inside were passports.
Photographs.
A ledger.
And a VHS tape.
Damian looked almost amused.
“Your father was dramatic.”
“He was terrified.”
We found a machine in an adjoining office.
The tape played.
My father's face appeared.
Older.
Exhausted.
“If Evelyn is watching this, I failed.”
My throat tightened.
He continued.
“The Voss organization was never designed to move drugs or weapons. It was designed to move information.”
Damian leaned closer.
“My father built an intelligence network.”
“Yes.”
“And someone else took control.”
The video continued.
“Edward Voss is dangerous, but he is not the final architect. The person above him calls himself The Shepherd.”
My skin crawled.
The Shepherd.
I had heard the name during my operation.
Whispered in warehouses.
Mentioned by men who immediately changed subjects.
My father continued.
“The Shepherd has one weakness.”
He held up a photograph.
A woman.
Young.
Beautiful.
Terrified.
I recognized her immediately.
My mother.
My breath stopped.
“She knew him before I did,” my father said.
“She was his first partner.”
The tape ended.
I couldn't move.
My mother had always been described as an innocent woman who died of illness when I was ten.
But the photograph told a different story.
Damian touched my shoulder.
I stepped away.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
“I need a minute.”
“I understand.”
“No, you don't.”
He looked at me.
“I thought my father was dead.”
“My mother too.”
For once, neither of us had an answer.
The ledger contained names.
Judges.
Bank executives.
Police officers.
Politicians.
Businessmen.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Marcus Reed.
My director.
I stared at it.
“No.”
Damian saw my expression.
“What?”
“My boss.”
“Your director?”
“Yes.”
“He works for The Shepherd.”
I shook my head.
“He recruited me.”
“Exactly.”
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
I hadn't been sent to investigate The Shepherd.
I'd been used to locate Damian.
To monitor him.
To uncover what he knew about Edward.
And by marrying Damian, I had unknowingly gained access to the one place they couldn't penetrate.
His home.
His family.
His secrets.
My daughter.
The thought made me sick.
Suddenly the building lights came on.
Damian drew his weapon.
“Down.”
A dozen men entered the lobby.
We ran.
Bullets tore through the walls.
Damian pushed me behind a pillar.
“How many?”
“Eight that I can see.”
“And behind us?”
“Two.”
We moved together.
The years I had spent training for moments like this took over.
Two shots.
One attacker fell.
Damian dropped another.
We ran into the underground parking garage.
Then heard a voice.
“Evelyn.”
I stopped.
Marcus Reed stepped into the light.
He wasn't holding a weapon.
He didn't need one.
His expression was almost fatherly.
“You've done very well.”
I stared at him.
“You used me.”
“I protected you.”
“You lied.”
“I gave you a chance to survive.”
Damian raised his gun.
Marcus smiled.
“Shoot me and Lily dies.”
Everything inside me froze.
He held up his phone.
A live video.
Lily was sitting beside Maria.
A man stood behind them.
Marcus smiled.
“Come back with me.”
“No.”
“Then your daughter pays the price.”
Damian moved.
“Don't.”
Marcus looked at him.
“You're finished, Damian.”
“No.”
Damian's voice was calm.
“You're making the mistake everyone makes.”
“What mistake?”
“You think Evelyn needs protecting.”
Marcus looked at me.
And I smiled.
Because Damian had finally understood.
I wasn't the woman they had recruited.
I wasn't the wife they thought they knew.
May you like
I was the woman who had spent eight weeks living among criminals without being discovered.
And Marcus had just made himself my target.
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