CHAPTER 7: THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
CHAPTER 7: THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
"No..."
The word escaped my lips before I could stop it.
"My mother died."
Helena looked at me with quiet sorrow.
"Did you see her body?"
The question struck like a blade.
I searched my memory.
The funeral.
The black flowers.
My father's hand resting on my shoulder.
A closed casket.
I remembered every detail...
Except her face.
I had never seen her one last time.
I had been told the accident had made it impossible.
At eight years old...
I believed them.
Helena spoke softly.
"Children believe what they're given."
"Adults spend the rest of their lives paying for it."
Rinaldi slowly stood, wiping blood from his forehead.
"So none of it was true?"
Lucien answered first.
"Some of it was."
"The accident happened."
"The fire happened."
"The funerals happened."
He paused.
"But not everyone inside those coffins was who the world believed."
The chamber fell silent.
Sixteen years of certainty crumbled into dust.
Julian looked at me.
"Did Uncle Victor know?"
Lucien nodded.
"He knew enough."
"Enough to do what?"
"Enough to sacrifice everything."
Elias stepped closer.
"My father didn't run away."
"He was taken."
Helena didn't deny it.
She slowly reached inside her white coat.
Several rifles immediately pointed toward her.
She ignored them.
Instead, she removed a faded black-and-white photograph.
The edges were worn smooth with age.
She handed it to me.
"This was taken twenty-eight years ago."
I looked down.
A young woman stood in the center.
Long dark hair.
Bright gray eyes.
She smiled while holding two little boys.
One was me.
The other was Victor.
I recognized us immediately.
But something was wrong.
Very wrong.
There was another child.
A little girl.
Standing beside my mother.
She couldn't have been older than six.
She looked directly into the camera.
Smiling.
I'd never seen her before.
My breathing slowed.
"Who is she?"
No one answered.
Helena simply turned the photograph over.
On the back, written in elegant handwriting:
The four children must never be separated.
Four.
Victor.
Me.
The girl.
Who was the fourth?
I looked back.
There were only three children in the photograph.
Then I noticed it.
A tiny baby wrapped in a blanket.
Barely visible in my mother's arms.
Almost hidden by the folds of her dress.
Julian whispered,
"There was another baby..."
Elias shook his head.
"No."
"There were two."
The room became still.
I looked at Helena.
"Explain."
She sighed.
"I will."
"But not here."
The chamber shook violently.
A deafening crack echoed from the glowing tunnel.
Stone exploded from the ceiling.
One of the ancient pillars collapsed.
Dust swallowed half the room.
Someone screamed.
A masked soldier shouted,
"The eastern wall is breaking!"
Helena looked toward the darkness.
"They've reached the second seal."
Lucien's face turned white.
"They're faster than expected."
Before anyone could react...
A thunderous explosion ripped through the chamber wall.
Stone shattered.
Smoke filled the room.
Figures poured through the opening.
Not the soldiers from before.
These wore dark crimson armor.
No insignias.
No faces.
Only smooth black masks.
Each carried strange curved blades instead of rifles.
One raised a hand.
The attack stopped instantly.
Silence.
Then...
He removed his mask.
I recognized him.
Immediately.
Impossible.
"Father..."
The word escaped before I could stop it.
Every person turned toward the man.
He looked exactly as I remembered.
Older.
A little thinner.
But unmistakably...
My father.
The man whose funeral I attended twenty years ago.
He smiled gently.
"Hello, Adrian."
Nobody moved.
Rinaldi looked ready to faint.
Julian stared in disbelief.
Even Helena looked shaken.
"You..."
I couldn't breathe.
"You're dead."
"So they tell people."
He chuckled softly.
"It's convenient."
Lucien stepped in front of me.
"You shouldn't be here."
My father ignored him.
Instead...
He looked at Helena.
"You've broken every promise."
"And you've buried every truth."
She replied.
Their eyes met.
Years of history passed between them without another word.
Finally...
My father turned back to me.
"I don't have much time."
He reached into his coat.
My muscles tensed.
Instead of a weapon...
He pulled out a small silver pocket watch.
Old.
Scratched.
I recognized it instantly.
My mother's.
He held it toward me.
"Take it."
I didn't move.
"You'll need it."
"For what?"
"To remember."
A crimson-armored warrior stepped beside him.
"We must leave."
"Not yet."
My father looked at Julian.
Then Elias.
Then me.
He smiled sadly.
"I wish we'd met under different circumstances."
He pressed the watch into my hand.
The instant my fingers touched the cold silver...
The watch sprang open by itself.
Inside...
Instead of gears...
There was a tiny folded note.
Only one sentence.
Written in my mother's handwriting.
Don't let him open the final door.
No name.
No explanation.
Only those seven words.
I looked up.
"Who?"
But my father was already stepping backward.
The crimson warriors formed a wall around him.
Then...
He spoke one final sentence.
One that chilled every soul in the chamber.
"You still believe I'm your father."
He smiled.
"That's the last lie they haven't taken from you."
Before anyone could stop him...
The crimson warriors threw small black spheres onto the floor.
Smoke exploded through the chamber.
Visibility vanished.
Guards opened fire.
The bullets struck only stone.
Seconds later...
The smoke cleared.
The crimson warriors were gone.
So was the man I had called Father.
Only the silver pocket watch remained in my hand.
Tick...
Tick...
Tick...
Then...
The second hand stopped.
A hidden compartment inside the watch quietly clicked open.
A tiny brass key slid into my palm.
Engraved on it were three words:
LEVEL FOUR ACCESS
Far beneath the estate...
A colossal metal door groaned open.
And from somewhere beyond it...
May you like
A child began to laugh.
END OF CHAPTER 7
