Chapter 8 - The Photograph That Changed EverythingI couldn’t move.
The photograph trembled in my hand.
Ethan standing over Daniel.
A gun in his hand.
Daniel on the floor.
Blood beneath his head.
“You killed him.”
Ethan stared at the photograph.
“No.”
“You’re in the picture.”
“It’s fake.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was not there.”
“Then where were you?”
“London.”
“When?”
“The night Daniel died.”
“Can you prove it?”
He hesitated.
That hesitation terrified me.
Ethan stepped closer.
“I was framed.”
“By whom?”
He looked at the photograph.
“The Architect.”
I backed away.
“You expect me to believe everything you say?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“I expect you to question everything.”
He removed his jacket.
There were scars across his chest.
Old bullet wounds.
“I received these the same night Daniel died.”
“How?”
“I was shot.”
“By who?”
“Daniel.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Daniel shot me.”
“That makes no sense.”
“He thought I was working for the Architect.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Then why did he shoot you?”
“Because he discovered something.”
“What?”
Ethan reached into his pocket.
A small key.
The same number as the locker.
“Daniel gave me this before he died.”
I took it.
“What does it open?”
“I never found out.”
I looked at the photograph again.
Something felt wrong.
The shadows.
The angle.
I had seen enough photographs to know.
“This picture was edited.”
Ethan looked at me.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
I pointed.
“Daniel’s shadow falls left.”
“Ethan’s falls right.”
The image had been assembled from two different frames.
Someone had manipulated it.
My phone buzzed.
A message.
COME ALONE.
Then an address.
A hotel.
Room 1408.
I looked at Ethan.
“We’re going.”
“No.”
“I need answers.”
“It’s a trap.”
“Then let it be a trap.”
We reached the hotel.
I entered alone.
The room was empty.
Except for a television.
On the screen was my father.
He looked exhausted.
“Mara.”
I cried.
“Dad.”
“You must forgive me.”
“Why?”
“Because everything I did was to protect you.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Who took you?”
He looked away.
“Your aunt.”
My breath caught.
“She’s alive.”
“Yes.”
“But she’s dead.”
“No.”
He looked directly into the camera.
“She is the Architect.”
I couldn’t speak.
My aunt.
The woman who raised me.
The woman who told me my mother had died naturally.
The woman who claimed my father abandoned us.
My father continued.
“She has been controlling the trust since you were a child.”
The screen flickered.
“She arranged your mother’s death.”
I covered my mouth.
“She killed Daniel.”
A sound came from behind me.
I turned.
My aunt stood in the doorway.
Alive.
Smiling.
“Your father always did talk too much.”
The door locked behind her.
She held a gun.
May you like
“You should have stayed hungry.”
End of Chapter 8.
