Chapter 4: The Man in the Photograph

Chapter 4: The Man in the Photograph
The cassette player clicked.
Static filled the rooftop.
Then...
Voices.
Sophia.
Victoria.
Damian.
Exactly as Emily remembered.
Then...
A fourth voice.
Calm.
Deep.
Completely unfamiliar.
"Leave now."
"I'll finish this."
Arthur's expression hardened.
"I knew that voice."
He slowly turned toward the guests.
Scanning every face.
One by one.
Until he stopped.
An elderly billionaire sitting quietly near the back lowered his champagne glass.
He smiled.
Almost proudly.
Damian's eyes widened.
"No..."
"It can't be..."
The old man stood.
Perfect posture.
Perfect composure.
"My name..."
"...isn't Richard Collins."
He removed a pair of thin glasses.
"And twenty years ago..."
"I owned the Ashcroft Grand Hotel."
The rooftop erupted.
Phones shook.
People backed away.
The old man smiled at Emily.
"You were never supposed to survive."
Police sirens echoed below.
Blue lights reflected against the skyscrapers.
Yet no one moved.
Because the old billionaire calmly reached into his pocket...
...and placed a second silver necklace on the table.
Identical to Emily's.
"There were never two victims."
"There were always..."
"...two daughters."
Emily slowly looked at Sophia.
Sophia looked back in disbelief.
"What... does that mean?"
The old man smiled one last time.
"It means..."
"Everything you believed about your family..."
May you like
"...was a lie."
THE END