Chapter 3 - The PhotographEthan noticed the man at the same moment I did.
“Get down.”
He pulled me behind the SUV.
The sound of tires screeching echoed down the street.
The gray-coated man disappeared into the crowd.
One of Ethan’s security men ran after him.
Another opened the rear door.
“Inside.”
I climbed in.
Ethan followed.
My hands were shaking.
“My son is with my neighbor.”
“Name?”
“Mrs. Alvarez.”
“Address?”
I gave it.
Ethan immediately made a call.
“Send two teams to the address.”
I stared at him.
“You think someone is going after Noah?”
“I don’t think.”
He paused.
“I know.”
The SUV accelerated through Manhattan traffic.
I held my phone.
My last message remained on the screen.
YOUR SON IS NOT SAFE.
“Why me?” I asked.
Ethan looked out the window.
“That’s what we need to find out.”
“Why would someone put forty million dollars under my name?”
“Because they needed someone invisible.”
I almost laughed.
Invisible.
That described my life perfectly.
I had no money.
No powerful family.
No influential friends.
A single mother working two jobs.
Someone like me could disappear without anyone noticing.
Then Ethan said something that made my stomach drop.
“Your father disappeared twelve years ago.”
I turned.
“How do you know about my father?”
“My brother’s files.”
“My father left.”
“He didn’t leave.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
“He was investigating the same accounts.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“My mother told me he abandoned us.”
Ethan looked at me.
“She lied.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang.
Mrs. Alvarez.
I answered.
“Mrs. Alvarez?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
A male voice answered.
“Do not go home.”
My blood froze.
“Where is my son?”
“Safe.”
“Let me hear him.”
A pause.
Then I heard a small cry.
“Mommy?”
“Noah!”
“I’m here.”
The line went dead.
I screamed.
Ethan took my phone.
“Trace it.”
The security team began working.
Thirty seconds later, they had a location.
A warehouse in Queens.
Ethan’s jaw clenched.
“We’re going there.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I’m going.”
“It could be a trap.”
“It is a trap.”
I stared at him.
“Then why are we going?”
“Because your son is inside.”
We arrived twelve minutes later.
The warehouse was abandoned.
Broken windows.
Rusting doors.
No lights.
Ethan entered first.
I followed.
“Mommy!”
Noah.
I ran.
He was sitting in a small plastic chair.
Alone.
I grabbed him.
He buried his face against my neck.
“I’ve got you.”
I kissed his hair again and again.
Ethan scanned the room.
“Something’s wrong.”
I looked around.
On the floor was a box.
Inside were photographs.
My mother.
My father.
Me as a child.
And Noah.
I picked up one photograph.
Noah was sleeping in his crib.
The photograph had been taken from inside my apartment.
My knees weakened.
“He was watching us.”
Ethan pulled out another photo.
It showed me entering the restaurant.
Taken less than twenty minutes earlier.
“How?”
Then Ethan found a handwritten note.
Three words.
ASK ABOUT DANIEL.
I looked at him.
“Your brother?”
He nodded.
“What happened to Daniel?”
“He was murdered.”
“Who killed him?”
“We never found out.”
Ethan stared at the photographs.
Then he noticed something.
He picked up a picture of my mother.
There was a tiny mark on the corner.
A black triangle.
His face changed.
“My brother used this symbol.”
“What does it mean?”
Ethan didn’t answer.
Instead, he turned the photograph over.
Written on the back was a date.
August 17.
“What’s August 17?”
Ethan looked at me.
“Tomorrow.”
My stomach dropped.
“What happens tomorrow?”
He stared at the date.
Then quietly said:
“The transfer.”
“What transfer?”
“The forty million dollars.”
“Where is it going?”
Ethan’s eyes met mine.
“To a company owned by someone who died nine years ago.”
“My mother?”
“No.”
He turned the photograph toward me.
The name was written beneath the date.
Mara Bennett Holdings.
My name.
My dead company.
And suddenly I understood.
Someone wasn’t stealing my identity.
May you like
They were resurrecting it.
End of Chapter 3.
