Chapter 4 - THE GIRL IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
I wanted the photograph to be fake.
I wanted the handwriting to belong to someone else.
I wanted every impossible thing Luka had said to collapse under one obvious lie.
Instead, I recognized the yellow sweater.
My mother had kept it in a cedar box for years.
I remembered photographs of myself wearing it.
I remembered my father calling it my sunshine sweater.
I looked at Luka.
“Where did you get this?”
“My father’s safe.”
“When?”
“After he died.”
“When did he die?”
“Eight months ago.”
I had never heard of Antonio Moretti.
Yet apparently he had kept photographs of me for more than twenty years.
Ryan paced near the window.
“This proves nothing.”
Luka turned the photograph over.
A second line of handwriting appeared near the bottom.
SUBJECT STABLE.
NO FURTHER ACCESS WITHOUT M.C.
M.C.
Michael Carter.
My father.
My fingers trembled.
“What happened to me?”
Luka sat across from me.
“You were born sick.”
I frowned.
“No.”
“My mother would have told me.”
“Would she?”
The question cut deeper than I expected.
My mother, Julia Carter, was still alive.
But we had barely spoken in three years.
She lived in Vermont.
After I married Ryan, our relationship deteriorated quickly.
She called him controlling.
I accused her of judging him.
Eventually, I stopped answering her calls.
Now I wondered whether Ryan had encouraged that distance because he knew what she might tell me.
I reached for my phone.
Ryan moved quickly.
“Elena, don’t.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Your mother is unstable.”
Luka’s eyes hardened.
“That’s what you told her?”
Ryan ignored him.
I unlocked my phone.
My mother’s contact was still there.
MOM.
I pressed call.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then someone answered.
But nobody spoke.
“Mom?”
Silence.
“Mom, it’s Elena.”
A breath.
Then a woman whispered.
“You had the baby.”
My throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Is she safe?”
Not congratulations.
Not what did you name her.
Is she safe?
I looked at Luka.
He had heard.
“Mom, what is M-17?”
The line went completely silent.
Then my mother began crying.
Not loudly.
Just one broken breath after another.
“Who told you?”
“A man named Luka Moretti.”
Another silence.
Then she whispered.
“Get away from Ryan.”
I looked across the room at my husband.
His expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Elena, listen carefully.”
Her voice became urgent.
“Do not let Carter Biomedical test your daughter.”
My skin prickled.
“Why?”
“Because the moment they confirm what she inherited, they will know your father succeeded.”
I felt dizzy.
“Succeeded at what?”
My mother inhaled sharply.
Then I heard another sound through the phone.
A door opening.
“Mom?”
She stopped breathing.
“Mom?”
A man’s voice spoke in the background.
Very faint.
“Julia?”
My mother whispered.
“No.”
The phone dropped.
I heard movement.
Something heavy struck the floor.
Then the connection died.
I stood too quickly.
Luka caught my elbow.
“My mother.”
“I heard.”
“She’s in danger.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do.”
I called again.
No answer.
Ryan stepped forward.
“Elena, don’t panic.”
I turned on him.
“How do you know my mother’s unstable?”
He froze.
“You’ve barely met her.”
“I know what you told me.”
“No.”
I suddenly remembered.
The first Christmas after our wedding.
My mother had tried to hand me an envelope when Ryan left the room.
He had returned before I could open it.
Later, the envelope disappeared.
I had assumed I misplaced it.
I stared at him.
“You’ve been talking to her.”
Ryan said nothing.
“How long?”
“Elena—”
“How long?”
His shoulders dropped.
“Two years.”
My heart pounded.
“Without telling me?”
“She kept threatening to expose things that would destroy the company.”
“What things?”
Luka’s phone vibrated.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
“What?”
I asked.
He turned the phone toward me.
A security alert showed a photograph from the hospital parking garage.
A black SUV.
Two men in dark coats.
And my mother.
She was getting out of the back seat.
She was here.
At the hospital.
But she was not alone.
Between the two men walking beside her was someone I recognized from photographs.
Richard Vale.
May you like
Chairman of Carter Biomedical.
The man who had given the eulogy at my father’s funeral.
