Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Daniel forced the archive door open after seven minutes.
The corridor was empty. The security cameras had been disabled, and the guard assigned to the east wing was missing.
Adrian ordered the estate sealed.
Mara remained beside the desk, holding the blue folder against her chest.
“You should leave,” Adrian said. “Someone knows what you found.”
“I’ve been waiting fourteen years. I’m not leaving because your uncle is frightened.”
“Charles is not the only person with access to this house.”
“Then you should find out who else.”
Adrian studied her. She was pale, but her voice did not shake. He had spent years surrounded by people who performed courage because they wanted something from him. Mara seemed to have no interest in impressing him.
“Why did you become a maid?” he asked.
“Because people ignore maids.”
“That can’t be the only reason.”
“It was the reason that mattered.”
She explained that after her father’s conviction, her mother had struggled to find work. The family lost their apartment. Eleanor took cleaning jobs and taught piano lessons in the evenings. When Mara was seventeen, her mother died after a long illness.
Before she died, Eleanor told Mara that the Ashford family had stolen more than money. They had stolen the truth about Margaret.
“Your mother and mine were close,” Mara said. “They planned to expose your grandfather together. After Margaret died, my mother became afraid. She believed the family had arranged it.”
Adrian looked down at the photograph she had placed on the desk.
It showed two young women standing beside a piano. One was Eleanor Ward. The other was unmistakably his mother.
On the back, in faded ink, were the words: For Margaret, who was brave enough to hear the truth.
Adrian felt the room tilt.
“My mother kept this photograph.”
Mara nodded. “She gave it to mine.”
“Then why was it in your possession?”
“My mother returned it to me before she died.”
Adrian moved to the window. The city glittered beyond the estate, distant and indifferent.
“I was told she died of a heart condition.”
“So was I.”
He turned. “What do you mean?”
Mara hesitated, then took a folded letter from her pocket.
“My mother wrote this the week before she died. She said Margaret had not died naturally. She said the family physician changed the medical record, and that the only person who knew the truth was still alive.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Samuel Hargrove. He treated your mother. He retired to Vermont.”
Adrian recognized the name. Hargrove had been the family physician for decades. He had signed Margaret’s death certificate.
“Why didn’t you contact him?”
“I tried. His house was sold. His phone disconnected. I couldn't find him.”
Adrian picked up his phone. “Daniel, find Dr. Hargrove. Quietly. No Ashford employees involved.”
Mara watched him. “You believe me?”
“I believe the documents. I believe the handwriting. And I believe my mother’s photograph was hidden for a reason.”
He paused.
“But I don’t know whether you’re telling me everything.”
Mara’s expression hardened. “Neither do I.”
For the first time, Adrian smiled faintly.
“Then we have something in common.”
A message arrived on Daniel’s phone. He read it, then looked toward Adrian.
“Sir, we found the missing guard.”
“Where?”
“In the greenhouse. Unconscious. Someone took his access card.”
Adrian looked at Mara.
May you like
The threat was no longer confined to old records.
Someone was willing to hurt people to keep the past buried.
