Chapter 4 - THE PHOTOGRAPH
Daniel couldn't breathe.
The photograph was old.
Almost twenty years old.
His father stood beside a young woman.
Amy's mother.
Daniel recognized her from old family photographs.
But why had they been together?
And why was the Harrison family crest visible on the building behind them?
He called his mother.
"Mom, where are you?"
"At home."
"I need you to tell me the truth."
A pause.
"About what?"
"Amy's mother."
Margaret went silent.
Daniel felt his pulse rise.
"You knew."
"Daniel..."
"You knew."
"I knew she worked for your father."
"Doing what?"
"Legal compliance."
"That's all?"
"No."
"Then what?"
Margaret sighed.
"Your father trusted her."
Daniel looked at the photograph.
"Why?"
"Because she discovered something."
"What?"
"Money was disappearing from the company."
Daniel closed his eyes.
The same pattern.
The same crime.
Different generation.
"How long?"
"Years."
"Did Dad know?"
"Eventually."
"Did he fix it?"
Margaret's voice broke.
"He tried."
Daniel stared at the photograph.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because your father told me to keep you away from it."
Daniel laughed bitterly.
"And now?"
"Now Amy is involved."
"What do you mean?"
Margaret hesitated.
"Her mother died believing your family had betrayed her."
Daniel froze.
"She died?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Before you met Amy."
Daniel sat down.
"Did Amy know?"
"I don't think so."
The pieces began connecting.
Amy had never understood why her mother hated the Harrison name.
She had always assumed it was because her father had abandoned them.
But perhaps there was another story.
Daniel called Elias.
"Find Amy's mother."
"She's dead."
"I know."
"Then what am I looking for?"
"Everything."
Meanwhile, in Newport, I stood behind the counter of Nora's bookstore.
I had spent two weeks avoiding the world.
I had also stopped running.
Every morning, I walked along the harbor.
Every afternoon, I worked.
Every night, I spoke to my baby.
Sometimes I wondered whether Daniel would ever know.
Then I would remember his hand on Vanessa's waist.
And the pain returned.
One afternoon, a man entered the bookstore.
He was tall.
Gray-haired.
Expensively dressed.
He looked around.
Then approached me.
"Are you Amy Harrison?"
My stomach tightened.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Charles Cole."
Vanessa's father.
I knew the name.
He had built a successful logistics consulting firm.
"What do you want?"
"I need to talk to you."
"About Daniel?"
"No."
"Then?"
"About your mother."
I went completely still.
"What do you know about my mother?"
He glanced toward the door.
"She left something for you."
"What?"
"A letter."
He placed a sealed envelope on the counter.
My mother's handwriting was on the front.
I hadn't seen it in twenty years.
My hands shook.
"Where did you get this?"
"Your mother gave it to me shortly before she died."
"Why?"
"Because she knew one day you'd marry into the Harrison family."
My blood turned cold.
"What does my marriage have to do with my mother?"
Charles looked directly at me.
"Everything."
I opened the envelope.
The first sentence made my knees weaken.
Amy, if you ever become part of the Harrison family, never trust the story you were told about your father's death.
I stared.
My father had died when I was six.
At least, that was what I'd been told.
Charles whispered:
"Your father didn't die when you were six."
I looked up.
"What?"
"He disappeared."
My entire world shifted.
May you like
Then Charles said something even more shocking.
"Daniel's father was the last person who saw him alive."
