Chapter 7: The Man Who Lied About the Fire
“Ask Adrian about the fire.””
I read the message three times before I looked up at him.
He stood beside the hospital window, his injured shoulder held stiffly beneath his shirt. Outside, rain streaked the glass, turning the city lights into blurred ribbons of gold.
For once, Adrian Kane had nothing to say.
“What's the meaning of this?”” I asked.
He held out his hand for the phone.
I pulled it away.
“No. You've had enough opportunities to tell me the truth.””
“Wren, I need to see the photograph.””
“You can see it from here.””
His jaw tightened, but he didn't move.
I held the screen toward him.
The abandoned Whitmore mansion filled the photograph. Its windows were dark, its roof partially collapsed, and weeds had swallowed the stone steps leading to the entrance.
In the upstairs window stood a figure.
A woman.
Her face was blurred, but her eyes were unmistakably blue.
My eyes.
I felt the room tilt.
“Is that my mother?””
“I don't know.””
“Don't lie to me.””
“I'm not.””
I stared at him.
“Then tell me why someone wants me to ask you about the fire.””
Adrian glanced at Daniel, who had stopped in the doorway.
“Give us a minute,” Adrian said.
Daniel didn't move.
“With respect, boss, if someone is sending photographs from the estate, I don't think leaving you two alone is wise.””
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Daniel.””
The security chief sighed and stepped into the corridor, leaving the door open.
I folded my arms.
“You're going to tell me now.””
Adrian sat on the edge of the hospital bed.
For several seconds, he looked at his hands.
“When I was twenty-three, I worked for my father. I handled security, collections, and problems that couldn't be solved through ordinary business.””
“You mean you worked for the mafia.””
“Yes.””
“At least we agree on something.””
He accepted the insult without reacting.
“My father had a deal with Richard Whitmore. Richard provided legitimate businesses and financial connections. My father provided protection. Neither man trusted the other completely, but they respected each other.””
“And Vincent?””
“Vincent wanted Richard's network. He'd been trying to force his way into the arrangement for years.””
Adrian paused.
“Three days before the fire, my father received information that someone planned to attack the Whitmore estate. He sent me to warn Richard.””
My heart began pounding.
“What happened?””
“I arrived shortly after midnight. The house was already burning.””
I gripped the edge of the chair.
“Were you there when my mother died?””
“We never found her body.””
“Were you there when I disappeared?””
Adrian looked up.
“I found you in the garden.””
The words struck me like a physical blow.
I couldn't breathe.
“You found me?””
“You were unconscious beside the fountain. You had a cut on your forehead, and your dress was covered in blood. I carried you away from the house before the eastern wing collapsed.””
My hands began to shake.
“Then why didn't you take me to the police?””
“Because a police officer was waiting at the gate.””
“What's wrong with that?””
“He was working for Vincent.””
Adrian leaned forward.
“He recognized me. He knew my family. If I'd handed you over, he would have taken you straight to Vincent.””
“So you took me somewhere else?””
“Yes.””
“Where?””
“To a safe house outside the city.””
I stared at him, struggling to connect his words with the empty years of my life.
“What happened next?””
Adrian's face tightened.
“I left you with two people I trusted. I went back to the estate to look for your parents.””
“And when you returned?””
“The house was gone. The safe house had been emptied. The people I'd left you with were dead.””
The room fell silent.
I could hear the steady beep of a monitor in the next room.
“You lost me,” I whispered.
“I thought I had.””
“You didn't even look for me?””
His expression crumpled.
“I looked for ten years.””
I wanted to believe him.
God, I wanted to.
But the memory of cold nights beneath broken awnings and mornings spent digging through garbage was too sharp.
“You knew what my family looked like. You knew my name. You knew about the mark behind my ear.””
“Yes.””
“And you never thought to search the streets?””
“I searched hospitals, shelters, missing-person records. I paid people to investigate every lead. But someone had removed your identity from the system. Every trail ended at a dead address.””
He swallowed.
“Three months ago, I started receiving those photographs. I thought they were bait. I didn't realize they were photographs of you.””
I looked at the message again.
“Who took me from the safe house?””
“I don't know.””
“But you suspect someone.””
Adrian didn't answer.
I stood.
“Tell me.””
His voice dropped.
“Thomas Vale.””
Margaret's earlier confession echoed through my mind.
The man who had promised to take me somewhere safe.
The man who had vanished after the fire.
“You knew he might have taken me.””
“I suspected.””
“And you kept that from me.””
“I didn't want to give you a name without evidence.””
I laughed bitterly.
“You could have given me the truth and let me decide what to do with it.””
He rose, wincing as his shoulder pulled against the bandage.
“You're right.””
The admission stopped me.
He continued, “I have spent ten years trying to fix a mistake I made when I was young. I convinced myself that keeping you ignorant would keep you safe. I was wrong.””
For a moment, I saw something beneath his usual control.
Regret.
Not the polished kind powerful men displayed when they wanted forgiveness.
The kind that had been eating him alive for years.
I looked away.
“I don't know if I can forgive you.””
“I wouldn't ask you to.””
“Good.””
I grabbed my coat.
“Because we're going to the mansion.””
Adrian stepped toward me.
“Wren, the person in that photograph may be armed.””
“Then bring your men.””
“And if it's a trap?””
“Then we stop pretending that staying away has kept me safe.””
He studied me.
Finally, he nodded.
“All right.””
We reached the Whitmore estate shortly before sunset.
The property lay beyond a winding road lined with bare trees and rusted iron fencing. A faded stone sign marked the entrance, its lettering almost swallowed by moss.
The mansion stood at the end of a long drive.
It was larger than I'd imagined.
Three stories of weathered stone rose above a sprawling garden. Several windows had shattered, and black scars climbed the eastern wall where the fire had eaten through the roof.
I stared at it through the car window.
Something inside me recognized the place.
My fingers pressed against the glass.
“I used to live here.””
Adrian sat beside me.
“Yes.””
“Was I happy?””
He looked at the mansion.
“You laughed a lot.””
I swallowed.
“Did my mother love me?””
“More than anything.””
The certainty in his voice hurt.
Because I could almost hear her.
A woman's laughter.
The rustle of silk.
The gentle rhythm of a brush moving through my hair.
Then the memory dissolved.
Daniel opened the car door.
“We've checked the perimeter. No vehicles nearby, but there are fresh tire tracks beside the eastern gate.””
Adrian stepped out.
“Someone's been here recently.””
I climbed out after him.
The air smelled of wet earth, dead leaves, and something faintly smoky that might have been nothing more than old wood.
We entered through a side door.
The hallway was covered in dust. Torn wallpaper hung from the walls, and a chandelier lay shattered across the floor. Our flashlights illuminated family portraits whose faces had been damaged by heat.
I stopped before one.
A little girl sat on a white pony while a woman in a blue dress held the reins.
The girl's face was scratched away.
But the crescent necklace around her neck remained intact.
I touched the glass.
“That's me.””
Adrian stood beside me.
“Yes.””
“Who damaged the picture?””
“I don't know.””
I moved deeper into the house.
The nursery was exactly as Margaret had described it. The walls were painted pale yellow, and tiny stars had been painted across the ceiling. A wooden horse lay on its side beside the fireplace.
I knelt and picked it up.
A memory burst through me.
My brother crouched beside the bed, holding the same horse.
“It's magic,” he whispered.
“If you hide it somewhere, nobody can find your secrets.””
I gasped.
Adrian caught my shoulder.
“What did you remember?””
“My brother.””
I looked around the room.
“He was here. He told me about a secret place.””
We hurried downstairs and crossed into the garden.
The fountain had cracked down the middle. Dead vines twisted around the stone statues, and the rosebushes had grown wild.
I found the bush almost immediately.
I didn't know how.
I simply knew where it was.
I dropped to my knees and began digging through the wet earth.
Daniel brought a small shovel from the car. Within minutes, the blade struck metal.
Adrian knelt beside me as Daniel lifted a small rusted tin from the hole.
Inside lay a silver horse, a child's drawing, and a folded piece of paper.
I opened the drawing.
Two children stood beneath a bright yellow sun. One wore a blue ribbon. The other held a sword.
Above them, in crooked handwriting, were the words:
*DANIEL AND MOONBEAM FOREVER.*
Tears blurred my vision.
The note beneath it was written in an adult hand.
If Isabella has returned, tell her that Daniel never betrayed her.
I stared at Adrian.
“Who wrote this?””
Before he could answer, a voice came from the shadows.
“I did.””
We spun around.
A man stood beneath the broken archway leading into the garden.
He was tall and thin, with gray hair, a scar across his left cheek, and a pistol aimed directly at Adrian.
My heart stopped.
Thomas Vale.
The man who had taken me from the carriage house.
The man who had stolen ten years of my life.
He looked at me with something almost like sadness.
“Hello, Isabella.””
Adrian raised his weapon.
“Drop it, Vale.””
Thomas ignored him.
He lowered his eyes to the silver horse in my hand.
“You found the hiding place.””
I stepped forward.
“You took me.””
Thomas's face tightened.
“Yes.””
“Why?””
He looked toward the ruined mansion.
“Because your father was about to die, your mother was missing, and your brother had made a deal with the wrong people.””
“That doesn't explain why you left me alone.””
His mouth trembled.
“I didn't leave you alone.””
He reached into his coat and pulled out an old photograph.
It showed a little girl sleeping beneath a blanket in the back of a car.
Me.
On the reverse side, someone had written a date.
The date I disappeared.
Thomas's voice broke.
“I was ordered to deliver you to Vincent Moretti.””
He looked directly into my eyes.
“But I never did.””
Adrian's weapon remained trained on him.
“Then where did you take her?””
Thomas slowly raised his gaze.
“To the only person who could hide her from all of us.””
He looked at me.
“Your mother.””
A gunshot cracked through the garden.
Thomas staggered backward.
Blood spread across his shirt.
And from the upstairs window of the mansion, a woman screamed my childhood nickname.
“MOONBEAM!””
I turned toward the sound.
A figure stood behind the broken glass.
A woman with blue eyes.
May you like
A woman who looked exactly like me.
And before Adrian could stop me, I ran toward the house.
