Chapter 3 - The Photograph in His Pocket
Adrian placed the blue folder on a table.
“I asked you not to make this difficult.”
Elena stood between him and Maya.
“How did you know I was here?”
“The security company alerted me.”
“This is my condo.”
“I am your husband.”
“You are not listed as an owner or resident.”
“I paid to upgrade the system.”
“I never asked you to.”
Adrian’s gaze moved to Maya.
“You should leave.”
Maya folded her arms.
“I am not signing your forged transfer.”
“Your signature is not on it.”
“Not yet.”
“Nothing has been forged.”
Elena opened the photographs on her phone and showed him the page bearing Maya’s typed name.
“You prepared a witness statement before asking the witness.”
“It was a draft.”
“You also prepared the right to sell my property.”
“A standard protection for the lender.”
“There is no lender named in the agreement.”
For the first time, Adrian looked unsettled.
He reached for Elena’s phone, but she moved it away.
“Who is Claire Bennett?” she asked.
Maya watched him closely.
Adrian removed his coat and placed it over a chair.
“A former employee.”
“She was your wife.”
“No.”
Maya set the courthouse photograph on the table.
Adrian glanced at it only once.
“That image is fake.”
“Then why are you afraid of it?” Maya asked.
“I am not afraid of anything you possess.”
He walked toward her.
Elena blocked him.
“Do not threaten her in my home.”
Adrian stopped so close that Elena could smell the coffee on his breath.
“I am trying to protect you from someone who has spent years inventing stories about this family.”
“Did you marry Claire under the name Adrian Vale?”
“No.”
“Did she disappear?”
“She left.”
“Did she die?”
Adrian’s silence lasted half a second too long.
Elena noticed.
So did Maya.
Adrian picked up his coat again.
“You are both making accusations based on a photograph with no legal value.”
As he lifted the coat, something fell from the inner pocket.
It was another photograph.
Adrian reached for it, but Elena stepped on the edge before he could retrieve it.
The image showed the entrance to Ashbourne Tower.
A dark-haired woman in a pale coat stood near the revolving doors.
The date printed at the bottom was from twelve days earlier.
Elena looked at Adrian.
“Who is she?”
“A potential tenant.”
“For my condo?”
“A potential buyer.”
“I never agreed to sell.”
“She was interested in another unit.”
Maya moved closer to the photograph.
Her face drained of color.
“That is Claire.”
Adrian snatched it from beneath Elena’s shoe.
“You have not seen Claire in eight years.”
“I would recognize her anywhere.”
“You were a child.”
“I was nineteen.”
Adrian tore the photograph in half.
Maya lunged for the pieces, but he held them above her reach.
“Stop,” Elena said.
He tore the photograph again and dropped it into the kitchen sink.
Maya collected the pieces.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Adrian stared at her.
“For what?”
“For confirming it mattered.”
She photographed every torn piece before he could destroy them further.
Adrian’s phone rang.
He answered immediately.
“Yes?”
A woman spoke too quietly for Elena to hear.
Adrian turned away, but his body stiffened.
“No,” he said. “Do not go upstairs.”
Elena and Maya looked at each other.
Adrian walked onto the balcony, closing the door behind him.
Maya rushed to the window.
Below them, a pale-coated woman stepped out of a black car and entered Ashbourne Tower.
Maya grabbed Elena’s arm.
“That is her.”
Adrian ended his call and moved toward the front door.
Elena stood in his way.
“Where are you going?”
“To speak with building security.”
“You told her not to come upstairs.”
“I was talking to an employee.”
“Then let me meet her.”
Adrian reached for the lock.
Maya lifted her phone.
“I already sent the photograph to someone outside the family.”
Adrian turned.
“Who?”
“A detective.”
It was a lie.
Elena could see it in Maya’s eyes.
Adrian could not.
His expression hardened.
“You have no idea what you just started.”
“No,” Maya said. “But Claire does.”
The elevator bell sounded in the hallway.
The floor indicator above the doors began to rise.
Nineteen.
Twenty.
Twenty-one.
Adrian unlocked the condo door.
Twenty-two.
He stepped into the hall just as the elevator reached the twenty-third floor.
The doors opened.
No one was inside.
Only a cream envelope lay on the floor.
May you like
Elena picked it up.
Her name was written across the front in Aunt Lydia’s handwriting.
