Chapter 3 - The Woman in the Security Photograph
I folded the letter before Sebastian entered.
That decision became the first lie I told him after our night together.
It would not be the last.
He stood in the doorway wearing a black shirt now, sleeves rolled to his forearms.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
His eyes dropped toward my hand.
“What’s that?”
“A note from the housekeeper. Dinner schedule.”
Sebastian watched me for two seconds too long.
He knew I was lying.
But he surprised me by saying nothing.
“Get some sleep.”
“You?”
“I have calls.”
“At midnight?”
“My profession lacks office hours.”
I looked at him.
“Is that what you call it? A profession?”
His mouth tilted.
“Would ‘crime empire’ make you more comfortable?”
“Strangely, yes.”
He almost smiled.
Then his gaze softened.
“Lock your door.”
“You’re across the hall.”
“Lock it anyway.”
After he left, I sat on the bed holding my mother’s letter.
Do not trust the attorney.
Mara Feldman had worked for Sebastian’s family for twenty-five years.
If my mother feared her, why call her that morning?
Unless Mara wasn’t the attorney she meant.
And the other sentence made even less sense.
Do not tell Sebastian who his real mother was.
Everyone knew Sebastian’s mother.
Vivienne Ward.
She had died when he was twenty-three.
Society photographs still appeared online—Vivienne Ward at charity galas, museums, political dinners.
Beautiful.
Elegant.
Cold.
Unless—
I stopped.
No.
I refused to invent explanations from one cryptic letter.
At six the next morning, I found Sebastian in the kitchen.
He had not slept.
“How do you know?” he asked when I said it.
“Because normal people don’t drink espresso while reading autopsy reports before sunrise.”
He closed the file.
“Mara will be here at eight.”
My stomach tightened.
“Great.”
“Valerie.”
“Yes?”
“If there is something you’re not telling me, now would be a good time.”
I looked into his eyes.
For the first time, I understood why powerful men feared him.
Sebastian did not need to threaten.
He simply waited until silence became unbearable.
“There’s nothing.”
Another lie.
At 8:17, Mara Feldman arrived.
She was sixty, silver-haired, sharply dressed, and carried herself like a woman who had buried more secrets than people.
She hugged Sebastian.
Then looked at me.
The color disappeared from her face.
“Elena.”
Sebastian went still.
“My name is Valerie.”
Mara blinked.
“Of course.”
“You thought I was my mother.”
“You look more like her than the photographs suggested.”
Sebastian gestured toward the table.
“Sit.”
For the next hour, Mara explained the history everyone had hidden.
My mother had worked as financial controller for Sebastian’s father.
She had discovered millions being moved through accounts without authorization.
The transfers were connected to someone inside the Ward organization.
Sebastian Sr. had asked her to investigate quietly.
Then he was murdered.
Three days later, my mother disappeared.
One week after that, authorities reported she had died in a car fire.
“Who identified her body?” I asked.
Mara hesitated.
“I did.”
My hand tightened around the coffee cup.
Sebastian noticed.
“You identified Elena?”
“Yes.”
“Then how is she alive?”
“I identified a body carrying Elena’s dental records.”
“You knew?”
“No.”
Mara looked genuinely shaken.
“I believed she was dead.”
I remembered my mother’s warning.
Do not trust the attorney.
“What was in the ledger?” Sebastian asked.
“Names. Transactions. Payments.”
“Whose names?”
“Elena never told me.”
“Then why kill my father?”
“Because whoever was stealing believed your father had discovered enough to expose them.”
Sebastian stood.
“And now Elena is back.”
Mara nodded.
“Which means she wants something.”
Her phone rang.
She looked at the screen.
Her expression became strange.
“What?”
“Private number.”
“Answer.”
She did.
A woman spoke.
“Mara.”
I knew the voice before my mind accepted it.
My cup slipped from my hand.
It shattered.
“Mom?”
Silence.
Then—
“Valerie.”
I could not breathe.
Sebastian stepped beside me.
“Where are you?”
My mother ignored him.
“Valerie, listen carefully.”
“You’re alive.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Twelve years.”
“I know.”
“You let me bury you.”
Her breathing broke.
“I did what I had to do.”
“No. You don’t get to say that.”
“Valerie—”
“You left me alone.”
Sebastian’s hand touched my shoulder.
I pulled away.
Not because I blamed him.
Because if he touched me, I might collapse.
My mother continued.
“Meet me tonight.”
“Where?”
Sebastian interrupted.
“She doesn’t meet anyone without me.”
My mother laughed softly.
“Sebastian Ward.”
His expression became colder.
“You know me?”
“I knew you before you knew yourself.”
The room froze.
My fingers went numb.
My mother said, “Ask Mara about the Saint Augustine photograph.”
Sebastian looked at Mara.
For the first time since she arrived, Mara looked frightened.
“What photograph?”
My mother continued.
“Eight tonight. Old ferry terminal in Beacon. Valerie comes alone.”
“No,” Sebastian said.
“Then you never learn why your father died.”
The line disconnected.
Sebastian turned toward Mara.
“Saint Augustine.”
She shook her head.
“Sebastian—”
“What photograph?”
Mara stood.
“This won’t help you.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Finally, she opened her briefcase.
From beneath several folders, she removed an envelope.
Inside was an old photograph taken outside a church.
Sebastian was a newborn.
Vivienne Ward stood nearby.
Sebastian Sr. held the baby.
And beside him—
My mother.
Young.
Crying.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
Elena gave him to us today. God forgive me.
Sebastian read it twice.
Then he looked at me.
My mother’s letter seemed to burn against my skin.
Do not tell Sebastian who his real mother was.
I didn’t need to tell him anymore.
Because Mara had.
Sebastian Ward stared at the photograph of my mother standing beside his father on the day of his birth.
May you like
And whispered the question I had been terrified to hear.
“Is Elena Hayes my mother?”
