Chapter 2 - The Woman in the Photograph
Elena waited until the bedroom door was locked before studying the photograph again.
Arthur Vale appeared twenty years younger than he had in the family portraits downstairs. His dark hair was untouched by gray, and he was smiling at the baby in his arms.
The woman beside him had auburn hair and a narrow face. She looked exhausted but happy.
Elena did not recognize the building behind them.
It was neither a hospital nor a family home. A stone sign near the edge of the photograph showed part of a name.
Saint Orla.
Elena searched online.
Saint Orla House had been a private maternity residence outside the city. It closed twenty-eight years earlier after a financial scandal. Most of the property had later been destroyed by fire.
There were no public records of Arthur Vale’s connection to it.
The bedroom handle moved.
Elena quickly slipped the photograph into a book.
“Mrs. Vale?”
It was the housekeeper, Rosa.
Elena opened the door.
Rosa had worked for the family for almost twenty-five years. She was kind to Elena, but she rarely spoke about family matters.
“Your mother-in-law asked me to prepare the east bedroom,” Rosa said. “She says you’ll be moving there.”
Elena frowned.
“Why?”
“She said the stairs near this room are unsafe during your pregnancy.”
“My doctor never said that.”
Rosa lowered her voice.
“Mrs. Vale has also hired a night nurse.”
“I don’t need one.”
“I know.”
Something in Rosa’s tone made Elena look at her more closely.
“Did Vivian ask you to search my room?”
Rosa’s eyes widened.
“No.”
“Someone took a letter from my drawer.”
“I didn’t touch it.”
“I believe you.”
Rosa glanced down the corridor.
“Mrs. Vale keeps a second set of keys for every room.”
Elena felt a chill.
“Do you know Saint Orla House?”
Rosa’s face changed immediately.
“Where did you hear that name?”
Elena closed the door and showed her the photograph.
Rosa gripped the edge of the dresser.
“That is Arthur,” she whispered.
“Who is the woman?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you recognize the place.”
Rosa remained silent.
Elena waited.
Finally, Rosa said, “Before I worked here, my sister was employed at Saint Orla House. She left after a baby disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“The records said the child had died. But my sister saw someone carry the baby out through a private entrance.”
“Who?”
“She never told me. She was frightened.”
“Was Arthur involved?”
Rosa shook her head.
“I don’t know. But after Saint Orla closed, Vivian paid for my sister to move overseas. She called it generosity.”
“Where is your sister now?”
“She died six years ago.”
Elena looked at the baby in Arthur’s arms.
“What happened to the missing child?”
“My sister believed the child was placed with a powerful family.”
Before Elena could ask another question, footsteps approached.
Rosa stepped away from the dresser.
Vivian opened the bedroom door with her own key.
She stopped when she saw them standing together.
“Elena,” she said, “why is the door locked?”
“Because it’s my bedroom.”
Vivian’s gaze moved to Rosa.
“You may leave.”
Rosa obeyed.
Vivian entered and closed the door.
“The east bedroom has been prepared,” she said. “You will move this afternoon.”
“No.”
“The doctor recommends less physical strain.”
“I spoke to my doctor yesterday.”
“Not Dr. Bell. The family’s physician.”
“I never agreed to be treated by the family physician.”
Vivian walked toward the bedside table.
“You seem unusually anxious.”
“I’m not anxious.”
“Forgetful, then. You misplaced a letter yesterday.”
Elena’s heartbeat quickened.
“You took it.”
“I found a disturbing anonymous message in my home. Naturally, I removed it.”
“You searched my drawer.”
“I protected my family.”
“You had no right.”
Vivian turned toward her.
“The word right is dangerous when used by people who do not understand the history of this family.”
Elena took the photograph from the book.
“Then explain the history.”
For the first time, Vivian lost control of her expression.
Her eyes fixed on the baby in Arthur’s arms.
“Where did you get that?”
“It appeared after my letter disappeared.”
Vivian reached for it.
Elena moved back.
“Who is the woman?”
“No one.”
“Who is the baby?”
Vivian’s voice became quiet.
“Give me the photograph.”
“Not until you answer me.”
Vivian stepped closer.
“That child has nothing to do with you.”
“Then why are you afraid of it?”
“I am not afraid.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
Vivian looked down.
Her right hand was trembling beside her dress.
She closed it into a fist.
“You will give me that photograph.”
“No.”
Vivian’s eyes hardened.
“You think being pregnant protects you.”
Elena placed the photograph inside her purse.
“It protects me from nothing. That’s why I’m keeping evidence.”
Vivian stared at her for several seconds.
Then she smiled.
It was the coldest smile Elena had ever seen.
“Evidence only matters,” Vivian said, “if someone is still free to present it.”
That evening, Elena called Ethan.
The call went directly to voicemail.
She tried again.
His phone remained unavailable.
A minute later, she received a message from an unknown number.
Do not trust the doctor Vivian chooses.
May you like
Arthur tried to expose the truth.
Three days later, he was dead.
