Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN BEHIND THE FIRE
The next morning, Marcus brought me a photograph.
“This woman.”
I stared.
She looked familiar.
Older.
Elegant.
Gray hair.
Sharp eyes.
“Who is she?”
Marcus answered:
“Your grandfather's second wife.”
I froze.
“My grandmother?”
“No.”
He placed another photograph beside it.
“This woman was your grandfather's business partner.”
I recognized her.
Victoria Crane.
The name from the original documents.
“The attorney.”
Marcus nodded.
“She wasn't just an attorney.”
“What was she?”
“She helped your grandfather build the original trust.”
I stared at the photographs.
“Then why would she betray him?”
“She didn't.”
I looked up.
Marcus continued.
“She disappeared the night your grandfather died.”
“Where did she go?”
“Into hiding.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew who ordered the fire.”
I felt my heartbeat accelerate.
“Who?”
Marcus looked at me.
“Your father.”
I already suspected it.
But hearing it made everything real.
“He ordered the fire?”
“Yes.”
“And Daniel?”
“Daniel helped arrange it.”
“What about my brother?”
“Not born yet.”
I exhaled.
Then Marcus said:
“There was another person involved.”
“Who?”
“Your grandmother.”
I stared.
“My grandmother died before I was born.”
Marcus shook his head.
“No.”
He handed me a photograph.
A woman standing outside a hospital.
The date was six months after the fire.
My grandmother was alive.
She had been hiding under another identity.
“Why?”
“She was trying to find you.”
My voice broke.
“Did she know I survived?”
“Yes.”
“Did she know Grandpa took me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't she come for me?”
Marcus looked away.
“Because someone threatened her.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
I closed my eyes.
The family story was collapsing.
Nothing had been what I believed.
Then Marcus said:
“There is one place you need to see.”
He drove me to an abandoned farmhouse outside the city.
Inside was a small room.
On the wall were photographs.
My parents.
My grandfather.
My grandmother.
Me.
And my father.
Someone had been watching my family for decades.
Marcus opened a drawer.
Inside was a stack of letters.
The first was from my biological mother.
It had been written three days before her death.
If anything happens to us, protect our daughter.
The second letter was from my grandfather.
I will.
The third was from Victoria.
You cannot trust your son.
And the final letter was from my grandmother.
I know who ordered the fire.
I opened it.
The name had been blacked out.
But beneath the black ink was a single sentence:
He is closer to her than she realizes.
I stared.
Marcus said:
“There's more.”
He showed me a recent surveillance photograph.
A man entering my office building.
It was my father.
But beside him stood someone else.
My brother.
They were working together.
That wasn't the surprise.
The surprise was the third person.
An older woman.
I stared at her face.
My heart stopped.
It was my mother.
But my mother was supposed to be at home.
Marcus looked at me.
“She met them two days ago.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“There's something you need to understand.”
“What?”
“The woman who raised you may have been protecting you.”
“From whom?”
Marcus pointed to the photograph.
“From the woman who claims to be your mother.”
I felt dizzy.
“There are two women?”
“Yes.”
“The other one?”
Marcus hesitated.
“Your biological grandmother.”
I stared at the photograph.
The woman who had raised me had been protecting me.
But from whom?
The answer came that night.
I returned home.
My mother was waiting.
She looked at me.
“You found her.”
“Who?”
“Your grandmother.”
“How did you know?”
She began crying.
“Because she called me.”
“What did she say?”
My mother whispered:
“She wants you to know that your grandfather didn't choose you because you were his granddaughter.”
“Then why?”
“Because you are the only person who can legally destroy the entire empire.”
I stared at her.
“What empire?”
May you like
She whispered:
“The one your father has been building behind your back.”
