Chapter 4: The Woman in the Photograph
I followed Laura into the kitchen.
She set her phone face down.
“Answer it.””
“No.””
“Why not?””
“Because it will make things worse.””
I stared at her.
“Things are already worse.””
She rubbed her forehead.
“You don't understand.””
“That seems to be the sentence everyone keeps using when they don't want to tell me the truth.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
For the first time since the gym, she looked genuinely broken.
I hated that it still affected me.
“Tell me what the second account is.””
She sat down.
“I can't.””
“Then tell me what Evelyn has to do with it.””
“She knows about it.””
“You just said she didn't.””
Laura looked at me.
“I said your sister didn't know the full story.””
I pulled out a chair.
“Then start talking.””
She looked toward the hallway.
“Jason and I were going to leave.””
The words landed like a physical blow.
“Together?””
She nodded.
“For how long?””
“A few months.””
I laughed bitterly.
“A few months?””
“It wasn't supposed to become this.””
“You were kissing him in a gym.””
“I know.””
“You let him shove me.””
“I know.””
“You chose him.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I made a terrible mistake.””
“No.””
I leaned forward.
“You made a series of decisions.””
She looked down.
“I thought I could fix it.””
“How?””
She didn't answer.
I slid the fake agreement across the table.
“With my house?””
She closed her eyes.
“Mark…”
“With my father's money?””
Silence.
“With my identity?””
That made her look up.
“I didn't forge the signature.””
I stared at her.
“Then who did?””
She swallowed.
“Jason.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“You knew?””
“Yes.””
“And you signed as the witness.””
“I thought it was only temporary.””
“Temporary?””
She put both hands over her face.
“I thought once we had the money, we could start over.””
“We?””
She nodded.
“Jason wanted to open a private training facility.””
“So that's what this was?””
“No.””
She looked at me.
“There was more.””
“Of course there was.””
She reached into her purse.
Then she pulled out a photograph.
She placed it on the table.
It showed my father standing outside a warehouse.
Beside him was a woman I had never seen before.
I picked it up.
“Who is she?””
Laura whispered,
“I don't know.””
I looked at the date.
October 2008.
My father had died in 2019.
“What does this have to do with you?””
Laura's hands trembled.
“Jason found the photograph.””
“Where?””
“In an old storage file.””
“What file?””
She didn't answer.
“Laura.””
“The second account.””
I felt a chill.
“My father had another account?””
“No.””
She shook her head.
“Your father had another company.””
I stared at her.
“What company?””
“Westridge Capital.””
I'd never heard of it.
“That's impossible.””
“It's real.””
“Where is it?””
“That's what Jason was trying to find.””
The kitchen suddenly felt colder.
I looked at the photo again.
The woman stood beside my father with one hand resting on his shoulder.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten note.
*For when the truth becomes too expensive to hide.*
My pulse raced.
“Who wrote this?””
Laura shook her head.
“I don't know.””
“You expect me to believe you didn't know?””
“I swear.””
I looked at her.
“Then why was it in your drawer?””
“Because Jason gave it to me.””
“Why?””
“Because he said your father had stolen something.””
“What?””
She hesitated.
“Money.””
My stomach tightened.
“How much?””
“Over three million dollars.””
I stared at her.
“That isn't possible.””
“It was.””
“From who?””
Laura looked at me.
“From the woman in the photograph.””
I turned the picture over again.
There was another line beneath the note.
*His son must never know.*
I stopped breathing.
“My father wrote this?””
“I don't know.””
“Then who did?””
“I don't know, Mark.””
I looked at Laura.
For the first time, I couldn't tell whether she was lying or genuinely terrified.
Then I heard something outside.
A car door slammed.
Laura went pale.
“Who is that?””
She stood.
“I don't know.””
The front door handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then the lock clicked.
Someone was opening the door.
Laura grabbed my wrist.
“Don't let them see that photograph.””
“Why?””
She looked toward the hallway.
“Because the woman in that picture isn't the person you think she is.””
The door opened.
A woman stepped inside.
Older.
Elegant.
Calm.
She looked directly at me.
Then at the photograph in my hand.
May you like
And whispered,
“You have your father's eyes.””
