Chapter 8 - THE WAITRESS WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO REMEMBER
Evelyn stared at the photograph.
The little girl in the picture had dark curls, wide brown eyes, and a tiny scar above her left eyebrow.
Her scar.
Her face.
But she had never been inside the Grand Aurelia as a child.
At least, she didn't remember being there.
Detective Hayes placed the photograph on the table.
“Evelyn, were you adopted?”
Evelyn swallowed.
“My parents died when I was six. I grew up with my aunt.”
“Do you remember anything before that?”
“Only pieces.”
She remembered a white room.
A woman humming.
A silver bracelet.
And a little boy crying behind a locked door.
She had always assumed those memories belonged to a childhood nightmare.
Adrien studied the photograph.
“Why would her picture be down there?”
Hayes opened another file.
“We found records suggesting the basement was once used by a private organization called the Aurelia Children's Foundation.”
Evelyn frowned.
“That sounds charitable.”
“It was registered as one. But several adoption files appear to have been falsified.”
Evelyn's hands began shaking.
“My aunt told me my parents died in a car accident.”
Hayes looked at her gently.
“We'll need to verify that.”
Adrien turned toward Evelyn.
“You don't have to face this alone.”
She gave a small, uncertain smile.
For the first time in years, someone was offering to stand beside her without asking for anything in return.
Then Detective Hayes opened a scanned document.
It was an old birth certificate.
The child's name was Evelyn Rose Marlowe.
Her parents were listed as Daniel and Grace Marlowe.
Evelyn stared.
“Marlowe?”
Adrien suddenly straightened.
“I know that name.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Daniel Marlowe was my father's attorney.”
“What happened to him?” Evelyn asked.
Adrien hesitated.
“He disappeared twenty years ago after accusing my family of financial crimes.”
Evelyn felt the room tilt.
Her childhood.
Her parents.
The foundation.
The Belandis.
Everything was connected.
Then Hayes opened another document.
It was a photograph of Grace Marlowe standing beside a younger woman.
The younger woman wore a silver necklace.
Evelyn recognized her from the painting.
“That's Celeste's mother,” Adrien whispered.
Evelyn leaned closer.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten message.
Grace, protect the children. If anything happens to me, Evelyn must never know who her real grandfather is.
Adrien stared at the name written beneath it.
May you like
And whispered:
“My father.”
