Chapter 5: The Woman From The Photograph
My father didn’t explain anything.
That scared me more than if he had shouted.
He grabbed the folder from my hand, placed it inside a locked briefcase, and guided me toward the back entrance.
“Dad, what’s happening?””
“Stay close to me.””
“That’s not an answer.””
He stopped.
For a second, I saw the old version of him.
The father who made pancakes.
The man who taught me how to ride a bike.
Then he looked toward the window again.
And I saw the businessman everyone else knew.
“Someone found the file.””
My stomach dropped.
“Who?””
“I don’t know yet.””
“You’re lying.””
He looked at me.
“I know enough to know we are not safe here.””
The word hit me harder than anything else.
Safe.
My home had always been the safest place in the world.
Now my father was telling me it wasn’t.
We left through the back gate and drove without speaking.
I watched the streets disappear outside the window.
For the first time, I wondered how much of my life had been built on secrets.
After twenty minutes, we arrived at an old house outside town.
It was smaller than our mansion.
Almost invisible.
My father noticed my confusion.
“This is where I lived before Whitmore Global.””
“Why bring me here?””
“Because nobody knows about it.””
Inside, everything was covered in dust.
Old furniture.
Old photographs.
Old memories.
My father opened a cabinet and removed another box.
“I wanted to show you this someday.””
I stared at him.
“Why now?””
“Because we ran out of time.””
He opened the box.
Inside were letters.
Dozens of them.
All written by my mother.
My hands shook as I picked up the first one.
The handwriting looked delicate.
Beautiful.
But the words made my heart race.
*Alexander, if anything happens to me, promise me you will never let them find Emily.*
I looked up.
“She knew?””
My father nodded.
“She knew someone was watching us.””
I read another letter.
*Emily cannot know the truth until she is old enough to choose what she wants to do with it.*
I swallowed.
“She was protecting me.””
“Yes.””
I looked at my father.
“Why didn’t you trust me?””
His face changed.
“I trusted you.””
“Then why?””
“Because I was afraid.””
That answer surprised me.
My father rarely admitted fear.
“I watched your mother lose everything because she searched for the truth,” he said quietly.
“I couldn’t lose you too.””
Before I could respond, a sound came from the hallway.
A floorboard creaked.
My father immediately stood.
“Stay here.””
I grabbed his arm.
“No.””
He looked at me.
“I’m not eight anymore.””
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then he nodded.
Slowly.
“Stay behind me.””
The door opened.
A woman stood there.
Older.
Tired.
But the second I saw her face, my entire body froze.
Because I knew her.
Not from memory.
From the photograph.
The woman beside me.
The woman with her hand on my shoulder.
Claire.
My father whispered her name.
“Impossible.””
The woman looked at him.
“You still think I’m dead?””
Nobody spoke.
My heart pounded.
“Who are you?”” I asked.
The woman looked at me.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Emily…”
Hearing my name from her mouth felt strange.
Like a memory I had lost trying to return.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
My father stepped forward.
“Where have you been?””
Claire looked at him.
“Running.””
“From who?””
Her expression changed.
“From the same people who tried to erase your daughter.””
I felt a chill.
She reached into her coat and removed a small envelope.
“I found this before they found me.””
My father took it.
He opened it.
Then his face went completely pale.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He looked at me.
And for the first time, my father looked like he didn’t know how to protect me.
“Emily…”
May you like
His voice broke.
“This is from your mother.””
