Chapter 12 - The Woman in the MirrorDaniel called the emergency response team.
The notarized document was real.
The signature was forged.
But whoever had prepared it knew enough about my handwriting to create a near-perfect copy.
The document transferred my beneficial interest in the trust.
Two million dollars.
Gone.
Unless we stopped it before midnight.
Then my father called.
He didn't ask about the ledger.
He asked:
“Did you find the black book?”
“Yes.”
“Don't trust anyone around it.”
“Dad, Daniel is on the case.”
Silence.
Then:
“Charlotte, listen to me carefully.”
My father rarely sounded frightened.
Now he did.
“Daniel was never paid.”
I looked at Daniel.
“What?”
My father continued:
“The entry is bait.”
“Why?”
“To make you doubt the one person helping you.”
I swallowed.
“Then who wrote it?”
“Someone inside the trust.”
“Who?”
He paused.
“Your mother.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
“My mother is dead.”
“Yes.”
“What are you talking about?”
“She died fifteen years later than you think.”
I couldn't breathe.
My father explained that my mother had survived the accident everyone believed killed her.
She had gone into hiding.
Then, years later, she became one of the people investigating the network.
She died under a false identity.
My father had kept it secret to protect me.
I stared at the room.
Everything I believed about my family was collapsing.
Then he said:
“Your mother left you a message.”
“Where?”
“In the house.”
“Where?”
“Look in the mirror.”
I turned.
The antique mirror in the hallway had belonged to my mother.
I had owned it my entire adult life.
We removed the back.
A thin envelope was hidden inside.
My name was written on it.
Inside was a single photograph.
My mother.
Standing beside Skylar.
Except Skylar was a baby.
I stared.
“When was this taken?”
Daniel examined the date.
Two years ago.
I froze.
My mother had been alive after I believed she was dead.
The photograph proved it.
Then I saw writing on the back.
Your daughter is the key.
I whispered:
“What does that mean?”
Daniel examined the photograph again.
There was a tiny symbol on Skylar's blanket.
A blue triangle.
The same symbol appeared on the black ledger.
My father called again.
“Charlotte.”
“Yes?”
“The organization has one rule.”
“What?”
“They never target children.”
“Then why did they take Skylar?”
“Because they discovered what she inherited.”
I felt sick.
“What did she inherit?”
“Something from your mother.”
“What?”
“A memory.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
He told me Skylar had visited my mother's old apartment when she was four.
She had seen a photograph.
A locked room.
She remembered the color of the door.
Blue.
The same blue door we'd found.
Skylar had never understood why it felt familiar.
But the organization knew.
They believed my mother had hidden the master ledger's location inside that memory.
I looked at Daniel.
“The blue door.”
He nodded.
Then my phone rang.
Not my father.
Brandon.
I answered.
His voice was weak.
“Charlotte.”
“Where are you?”
“I escaped.”
“Where?”
“I can't stay here.”
“Are you hurt?”
“A little.”
“Where's Grandma?”
Silence.
“Brandon?”
“She’s alive.”
“Where?”
“Listen to me.”
“What?”
“Your father was right.”
I swallowed.
“What did he tell you?”
Brandon took a breath.
“There's one person you must not trust.”
“Who?”
He whispered:
“Your own mother.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
My mother had been dead for years.
Yet Brandon was telling me not to trust her.
Then a message arrived from an unknown number.
A photograph.
It showed my mother.
Alive.
May you like
Standing in front of the blue door.
And beside her was Victor Hale.
