Chapter 11 - The Photograph on His Desk
Police reached the Ashford estate first.
The gates had been disabled.
Two cameras destroyed.
One guard injured but alive.
Adrian was found in the security room with a head wound.
Mrs. Vale was missing.
Saraphene forgot the pendant.
“Where is she?”
Selian walked through the house like a storm forced into human shape.
“Search every room.”
Police did.
Mrs. Vale’s bedroom was empty.
Her phone lay on the nightstand.
No sign of struggle.
No blood.
Saraphene hated how much relief she took from that.
The guest-room dresser stood open.
Jewelry scattered across the floor.
The silver clock pendant was gone.
Selian stopped at the doorway.
“Saraphene.”
She looked at him.
“This is my fault.”
“No.”
“They came here because you were here.”
“They came because of something my grandfather hid.”
“I brought you into this house.”
“And I chose to stay.”
His expression hardened.
“You don't have to protect me from responsibility.”
“And you don't get to steal responsibility that belongs to Marcus, Victor, Trent or whoever did this.”
Selian stared.
Saraphene stepped closer.
“Mrs. Vale needs us useful, not guilty.”
The words worked.
Barely.
Adrian regained consciousness.
He remembered someone using a valid access code.
Not forced.
Not hacked.
A code assigned to family.
Only three active codes existed.
Selian.
Adrian.
Mrs. Vale.
And an emergency master code known by—
Selian looked toward the portrait in the hallway.
“Lucien.”
Police began searching for him.
Saraphene entered Selian’s study while investigators worked.
She needed air.
Silence.
Anything.
On his desk rested a photograph she had not noticed before.
Her.
Saraphene picked it up.
It had been taken months earlier.
She was leaving the café.
Unaware.
Behind her, across the street, Trent sat in his car.
A surveillance photograph.
Selian found her holding it.
The atmosphere changed.
“How long?”
“Saraphene—”
“How long have you had pictures of me?”
He closed the door.
“Six months.”
Her stomach turned.
“You watched me.”
“We watched Morrison.”
“And I happened to be in the frame?”
“Sometimes.”
“This is centered on me.”
Selian said nothing.
That silence was answer enough.
“You investigated me too.”
“Yes.”
She put down the photograph.
Anger rose sharply.
“You stood in that restroom and let me believe we met by accident.”
“We did.”
“No.”
“I knew who you were. I did not know you would enter that room.”
“That is not the point.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Her voice shook now.
“You knew my address. My work. My history with Trent. You knew enough to tell me eight months. And you still acted like I was a stranger.”
“I was trying not to frighten you.”
“You made choices for me.”
Selian looked stricken.
The expression did not satisfy her.
It hurt.
“I was trying to protect an investigation.”
“And there it is.”
“What?”
“The reason.”
Saraphene stepped back.
“Trent always had reasons too.”
Selian’s face went pale.
“Don't compare me to him.”
“Then don't behave like him.”
Silence.
The sentence landed.
Saraphene immediately wanted to take it back.
Not because it wasn't fair.
Because she saw how deeply it cut.
Selian nodded slowly.
“You're right.”
She blinked.
No defense.
No anger.
No justification.
“You're right,” he repeated. “I withheld information that involved you because I decided I knew what was best.”
Saraphene’s anger lost some force.
“I won't ask you to forgive that tonight.”
“Good.”
“I will tell you everything now.”
“All of it?”
“Yes.”
Selian opened a locked drawer.
Inside were files.
He placed them on the desk.
Photographs.
Reports.
Trent’s movements.
Saraphene’s name.
Her café schedule.
Her apartment.
Her mother.
“You really did investigate me.”
“We needed to know whether you were working with Morrison.”
“And?”
“It took two days to conclude you weren't.”
“Then why keep watching?”
“Because Morrison kept watching.”
Saraphene's anger faltered.
Selian turned another page.
Photographs showed Trent outside her café.
Near her building.
Beside her mother’s neighborhood.
Times when Saraphene had never known he was there.
“He was around more than you realized,” Selian said.
“Why didn't you warn me?”
“Because every time our people intervened indirectly, he backed off.”
“What does indirectly mean?”
“We made sure someone was nearby. Changed his access. Had patrol cars routed through your street.”
Saraphene stared.
“You were protecting me.”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Selian looked toward the photograph.
“At first because you were connected to Elias's investigation.”
“And later?”
He did not answer.
Saraphene waited.
“Selian.”
“Later it became difficult to pretend that was the only reason.”
The room became very quiet.
Her heartbeat changed.
“This is terrible timing.”
“I know.”
“Mrs. Vale is missing.”
“I know.”
“There's an international financial conspiracy involving your possibly-not-dead father.”
“I am painfully aware.”
Despite everything, Saraphene almost laughed.
Selian's gaze dropped.
“I won't say anything else.”
“Probably smart.”
He nodded.
Then Saraphene noticed another photograph beneath the files.
Selian and Elias.
Between them stood a teenage girl.
She pointed.
“Who is she?”
Selian froze.
His silence changed.
Not hesitation.
Fear.
“Sophia.”
“Your sister?”
“Yes.”
“You never mentioned a sister.”
“She died when she was seventeen.”
Saraphene’s anger disappeared.
“What happened?”
“Car accident.”
He took the photograph.
“My father wanted her driven home from a party. She refused. She got into a car with friends.”
“I’m sorry.”
Selian stared at the photograph.
“After that my father became obsessed with control. Where Elias went. Who I saw. Every decision.”
Understanding settled over Saraphene.
“And you hated him for it.”
“Yes.”
“But part of you learned it.”
Selian looked at her.
“Yes.”
That single admission meant more than an apology.
Saraphene touched the edge of the desk.
“Then unlearn it.”
“I’m trying.”
A phone rang.
Not Selian's.
Not Saraphene’s.
It came from inside the desk.
They both looked down.
Selian opened another drawer.
An old phone sat inside.
He had never seen it.
The screen displayed one incoming call.
MOTHER
Selian answered.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Then Mrs. Vale’s voice came through.
“Selian?”
He gripped the desk.
“Where are you?”
“I’m safe.”
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Who took you?”
“Nobody.”
Selian froze.
“What?”
“I left.”
Saraphene stared.
Mrs. Vale continued.
“Your father contacted me.”
Selian’s face emptied.
“Marcus?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew the pendant would bring everyone to him.”
“Where is he?”
A pause.
Mrs. Vale began to cry.
“Selian, there is something I should have told you eleven years ago.”
He closed his eyes.
“What?”
“Your father didn't die in that fire.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“He disappeared because I helped him.”
Selian opened his eyes.
Mrs. Vale whispered the rest.
“And Elias found out.”
May you like
The line went dead.
---
