Chapter 6 - The Woman in the Photograph
Our safe house was a small lake house two hours outside Chicago.
It belonged to nobody.
At least, nobody according to the records.
We stayed there for two nights.
The silence felt strange.
There were no guards in the hallways.
No business meetings.
No family members.
No pretending.
Just Ethan and me.
On the second morning, I found him in the kitchen making coffee.
He looked almost ordinary.
“You know,” I said, “you’re terrible at looking like a criminal when you’re making pancakes.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“I’m a complicated man.”
“You’re burning them.”
He glanced at the pan.
“Damn.”
I laughed.
It surprised both of us.
He smiled.
The rare smile I had secretly noticed for months appeared again.
I realized then how much I had missed it.
“You should smile more.”
“You should stop watching me.”
“I live with you.”
“Technically, you live in the east wing.”
“Technically, I’m your wife.”
His expression softened.
“I know.”
The words hung between us.
Then the phone rang.
Brian.
His voice was urgent.
“We found Amelia’s mother.”
I froze.
Ethan became serious.
“Where?”
“New York.”
That was impossible.
My mother was dead.
The woman in the photographs was dead.
But Brian had found a medical record.
A woman under a different name had been admitted to a private clinic years earlier.
The records matched.
My mother had survived the first attempt on her life.
She had been moved under a false identity.
Then she disappeared.
For twenty-two years, everyone thought she was dead.
We flew to New York that afternoon.
The clinic was old and heavily secured.
A nurse met us at the entrance.
“She knows you’re coming.”
“Who?”
The nurse looked at me.
“Your mother.”
I forgot how to breathe.
We entered a private room.
A woman sat beside the window.
Her hair was streaked with gray.
Her face was thinner.
But her eyes were unmistakable.
My mother.
She stood slowly.
Her hand covered her mouth.
“Jane.”
I broke.
I crossed the room.
She pulled me into her arms.
For several minutes, I could not speak.
Then I heard another sound.
Amelia crying.
Our mother held both daughters.
“My girls.”
Everything I had been told about my life shattered in that one moment.
She told us the truth.
She had been forced into hiding after discovering the Carter family planned to seize the trust.
She had believed my father would protect us.
He had failed.
But before disappearing, she had hidden the ledger.
She had designed the trust so that neither daughter could access it alone.
The key required both twin necklaces.
Amelia looked at me.
“So that’s why they wanted us both.”
Our mother nodded.
“Yes.”
“Who attacked you?”
She looked at Ethan.
“Victor Carter.”
He lowered his head.
“He is dead.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“But his son continues his work.”
“Charles.”
She nodded.
Then she gave Ethan a small envelope.
“He will betray you tonight.”
Ethan opened it.
Inside was a bank transfer record.
Charles had moved millions into an account controlled by Russo interests.
The final transaction was scheduled for midnight.
Ethan stared at it.
“He thinks I’m out of Chicago.”
“He wants your empire.”
“I know.”
Our mother touched my hand.
“Jane, there is something else.”
“What?”
She hesitated.
“The trust contains more than property.”
She pointed to a second page.
“It contains evidence that can dismantle the entire organization.”
I understood immediately.
“That’s why everyone wants it.”
“Yes.”
“And if I release it?”
“Your family’s power ends.”
Ethan looked at me.
“Maybe that’s the point.”
I stared at him.
“You would give up the empire?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
He took my hand.
“Because I never wanted an empire more than I wanted you alive.”
That answer should have made me happy.
Instead, it terrified me.
Because if Ethan gave up everything, he would become vulnerable.
And powerful men without power did not survive long.
That night, someone attacked the clinic.
Bullets tore through the windows.
We were forced into a secure basement.
Our mother stayed with Amelia.
Ethan and I were separated.
I heard gunfire above us.
Then silence.
Too much silence.
I ran upstairs.
Ethan was standing in the corridor.
Blood covered his shirt.
My heart stopped.
He was holding a gun.
Behind him was Charles.
Kneeling.
Alive.
Ethan looked at me.
“It’s over.”
Charles laughed.
“You think this ends with me?”
Ethan lowered the gun.
“You're right.”
I stepped forward.
Ethan turned.
“Jane, stay back.”
Charles smiled.
“Ask him what happened twenty years ago.”
I looked at Ethan.
“What?”
Charles laughed again.
“Ask him who really caused your mother’s accident.”
Ethan’s face went pale.
“I didn’t know.”
Charles leaned closer.
“Your husband’s family didn’t order the first attack.”
I looked at Ethan.
“Then who did?”
Charles looked directly at me.
May you like
“Your father.”
My world tilted.
