Chapter 2 - The PhotographThe school had already been evacuated when Adrian arrived.
Police cars surrounded the building.
Parents crowded behind barricades.
Teachers stood in small groups, whispering.
And Adrian stood in the back seat of a black SUV, watching everything through rain-covered glass.
Vincent sat beside him.
“You should stay in the car.”
Adrian ignored him.
“You said the school was secure.”
“It was.”
“Then someone walked into it.”
Vincent had no answer.
Adrian opened the door.
The moment his shoes touched the pavement, pain pulled across his chest.
He stopped.
For half a second, the world tilted.
Vincent grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
Adrian breathed slowly.
The dizziness faded.
“I’m fine.”
“That phrase is going to get you killed.”
“Maybe.”
He looked toward the school.
“But not before I find out who took that photograph.”
Inside, detectives had turned the main office into a temporary command center.
Adrian walked through the doors.
A uniformed officer immediately stepped forward.
“You can't be here.”
Vincent showed his badge from one of Adrian’s legitimate companies.
The officer stepped aside.
Adrian noticed the small things.
Wet footprints near the back entrance.
A security camera tilted three degrees downward.
A fire door that hadn’t fully latched.
Someone had known exactly where the cameras were.
“This wasn’t random,” Adrian said.
Vincent looked at him.
“No.”
They found Mia’s locker.
The photograph had been taped inside.
No fingerprints.
No fibers.
No usable evidence.
Someone had cleaned the entire surface.
The detective looked frustrated.
“Whoever did this knew what they were doing.”
Adrian stared at the empty locker.
His daughter had stood here.
Opened this door.
Reached inside.
Maybe she had seen the photograph.
Maybe she had touched it.
“Where is she?”
“With her mother.”
“Take me there.”
Vincent hesitated.
“You can't just walk into—”
“Where?”
Vincent sighed.
“Riverside.”
The drive took twelve minutes.
Adrian spent all twelve staring out the window.
For three years, he had imagined the moment he would finally introduce himself.
He had pictured telling Mia the truth.
I am your father.
He had practiced it in his head hundreds of times.
Now reality had made the moment ugly.
A threat.
A photograph.
A killer somewhere close.
When they reached the apartment building, Vincent checked the entrance.
“Clear.”
They went upstairs.
Adrian stopped outside the apartment.
He could hear voices.
A woman.
A child.
He knew the child instantly.
Mia.
His heart began pounding.
Elena’s warning echoed in his mind.
Dangerous rhythm.
Without warning.
He raised his hand.
Knocked.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
Clara Moretti froze.
She looked at Adrian.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
“You,” she whispered.
Adrian nodded.
Clara’s eyes hardened.
“You promised.”
“I know.”
“You promised you would stay away.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“You don't protect a child by disappearing.”
Behind Clara, a small voice asked:
“Mommy?”
Adrian heard footsteps.
Mia appeared.
She wore pink pajamas decorated with stars.
Her hair was tied in two uneven ponytails.
She looked at Adrian.
Then she looked at Vincent.
Then back at Adrian.
She didn't move.
Adrian couldn't breathe.
There she was.
His daughter.
Not a photograph.
Not a distant silhouette.
Not a six-year-old face he had memorized from images.
A real child.
Standing ten feet away.
Mia tilted her head.
“You're him.”
Adrian swallowed.
“Who?”
“The man in my pictures.”
Clara turned pale.
Adrian felt something break inside him.
Mia studied his face.
“You look different.”
“How?”
“You have a face.”
For the first time in years, Adrian nearly smiled.
“I do.”
Mia looked confused.
“Why didn't you ever come?”
Adrian had no answer that wouldn't sound like an excuse.
Before he could respond, the lights went out.
Clara screamed.
Vincent drew his weapon.
A window shattered.
Glass exploded across the living room.
Adrian grabbed Mia and dropped behind the couch.
Three shots cracked through the apartment.
Vincent fired toward the window.
“Down!”
Another shot.
The bullet struck the wall inches above Adrian’s head.
He pulled Mia against his chest.
She was shaking.
Adrian could feel her heartbeat.
He whispered, “I’ve got you.”
She looked up.
“Are you my daddy?”
Adrian stared at her.
“Yes.”
The word came out almost broken.
“Yes, Mia.”
She clung to his shirt.
Then a fourth shot rang out.
Vincent returned fire.
Silence.
They waited.
Nothing.
Vincent moved toward the window.
“Shooter’s gone.”
Adrian looked down.
Mia was still holding him.
Then she whispered something.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“I know that man.”
Adrian froze.
“What man?”
“The one who took my picture.”
His blood ran cold.
“Where did you see him?”
Mia pointed toward the hallway.
“He was here yesterday.”
Clara covered her mouth.
Adrian stared at her.
“Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“He said he worked for you.”
Adrian looked at Vincent.
Vincent’s face changed.
“Who?”
Mia thought.
“He had a scar.”
“On his face?”
She nodded.
“Like a long white line.”
Adrian knew the description.
His mind raced through every enemy he had ever made.
Then Vincent whispered a name.
“Dmitri Sokolov.”
Adrian turned.
“Dead.”
“That’s what we thought.”
The room went silent.
Vincent’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression collapsed.
“What's wrong?”
He listened.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
“They found a body.”
“Who?”
Vincent looked at Adrian.
“Dmitri Sokolov.”
Adrian’s eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
Vincent swallowed.
“In the trunk of his own car.”
Adrian looked toward the broken window.
“Then who was the man Mia saw?”
Vincent didn't answer.
Because they both understood the same thing.
Someone had deliberately used the identity of a dead man.
May you like
Someone who wanted Adrian to chase the wrong ghost.
And whoever that someone was had been inside Mia’s home only twenty-four hours earlier.
