Chapter 9: The Woman in Black
The photograph remained on Daniel's tablet.
No one spoke.
No one moved.
Marcus stared at the screen as though it might change if he looked long enough.
"It has to be fake."
Daniel shook his head.
"I checked the metadata."
"When was it taken?"
"Three minutes ago."
"No editing."
"No AI manipulation."
"The image came directly from the estate's internal security camera."
Dominic never took his eyes off the photograph.
Twenty-three years.
He had mourned her.
Buried her.
Carried the weight of losing her into every decision he had ever made.
And now...
She was standing inside his own home.
Holding Harper's hand.
"Turn the convoy around," Dominic ordered.
Marcus hesitated.
"The journal..."
"The locker..."
"They can wait."
"My mother can't."
Within seconds, the three black SUVs sped away from Grand Central Terminal, sirens echoing through Manhattan traffic.
Dominic sat silently in the back seat.
The leather journal rested on his lap.
He opened it once more.
This time, he wasn't looking for names.
He searched every margin, every corner, every blank space.
His mother had always hidden notes in books when he was a child.
Tiny messages only he would think to find.
On the inside cover, almost invisible beneath years of dust, he found a sentence written in pencil.
"The first lie begins with Victor."
Victor.
His father.
Forty Minutes Earlier...
Back at the estate.
Harper remained inside the hidden chapel passage.
The elderly woman knelt before her.
"You've grown so much."
Harper tilted her head.
"Do I know you?"
The woman smiled gently.
"You knew me before you could remember."
Harper frowned.
"What's your name?"
The woman paused.
Then answered softly,
"Isabella."
Harper repeated it.
"Miss Isabella."
The older woman laughed quietly.
"No."
"Just Isabella."
Harper reached into the pocket of her yellow nightgown and pulled out the stuffed rabbit.
"Wanna hold Bunny?"
Isabella accepted it with trembling hands.
A single tear slipped down her cheek.
"I've waited a very long time to meet you."
Upstairs, two estate guards searched the chapel.
One of them heard voices below.
"You hear that?"
The second guard nodded.
They descended the hidden staircase.
As they rounded the final corner...
The tunnel was empty.
Only Harper remained.
She sat alone, humming softly.
The stuffed rabbit rested in her lap.
"Where's the old woman?" the guard asked.
Harper looked confused.
"She left."
"When?"
"Just now."
"Which way?"
Harper pointed toward a solid stone wall.
"There."
The guards exchanged uneasy glances.
There was no passage.
No door.
Only ancient stone.
By the time Dominic arrived at the estate, the security team had searched every inch of the mansion.
Nothing.
No footprints.
No fingerprints.
No surveillance footage showing Isabella entering or leaving.
It was as if she had appeared from nowhere...
And disappeared into thin air.
Dominic found Harper sitting in the library.
She looked up and smiled.
"You came back."
He knelt beside her.
"The lady who visited you..."
"What did she say?"
Harper thought for a moment.
"She asked if I still liked bedtime stories."
Dominic frowned.
"Anything else?"
Harper nodded.
"She said I shouldn't be scared."
"Why?"
"'Because your daddy finally remembers.'"
The words hit Dominic like a hammer.
Harper had never called him Daddy before.
She looked embarrassed.
"I'm sorry."
"I know you're Mr. Vale."
Dominic gently took her hand.
"You can call me whatever feels right."
Harper smiled.
"Okay..."
"...Daddy."
Marcus quietly looked away.
For all the violence he had witnessed in his life, that single word carried more weight than any gunshot.
Later that evening...
The estate's forensic team finished examining the hidden archive.
Daniel rushed into Dominic's office carrying another sealed envelope.
"This was hidden inside the journal's back cover."
Dominic opened it carefully.
Inside was an old Polaroid photograph.
It showed three people standing beside a lake.
A young Dominic.
Around fifteen years old.
His mother, Isabella.
And...
Another boy.
About the same age.
Dark hair.
Serious eyes.
His arm rested across Dominic's shoulder like a brother.
Dominic stared at the picture.
"I don't remember him."
Marcus turned the photo over.
Written on the back were six words.
"You trusted him before Nathan."
Daniel frowned.
"Who is he?"
Dominic shook his head.
"I have no idea."
He searched every corner of his memory.
Nothing.
No face.
No name.
No recollection.
Almost as if someone had removed that person from his past.
The estate psychologist arrived shortly afterward.
At Marcus's request.
Dominic wasn't pleased.
"I don't need a therapist."
"No," the psychologist replied calmly.
"But memory manipulation exists."
The room fell silent.
She continued.
"Certain drugs, repeated trauma, and controlled hypnosis can suppress specific memories."
Dominic folded his arms.
"You think someone erased part of my childhood?"
"I think someone wanted you to forget someone."
She pointed at the Polaroid.
"And based on your reaction..."
"They succeeded."
Before anyone could continue, alarms suddenly blared across the estate.
Not the security alarm.
A different one.
The panic alarm from the underground vault.
Marcus grabbed his rifle.
"No one should be down there."
The entire team rushed below.
The hidden archive looked untouched.
Except for one thing.
The wooden chessboard they had discovered earlier now had an additional piece.
Yesterday it had held only a black king.
Now...
A white queen stood directly in front of it.
And beneath the queen was a folded note.
Dominic opened it.
Only one sentence was written.
CHECK HARPER'S LEFT SHOULDER.
The room fell silent.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
Dominic turned toward Harper.
She stood in the doorway, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
Confused by everyone's expressions.
"Mia?"
Dominic called.
Mia entered, still weak from her gunshot wound.
"Does Harper have a birthmark?"
Mia frowned.
"Yes."
"On her left shoulder."
"What does it look like?"
Mia's face slowly lost its color.
"I..."
She swallowed hard.
"I've never looked closely."
Dominic carefully lifted the sleeve of Harper's nightgown.
There, just below her shoulder...
Wasn't a birthmark.
It was a tiny tattoo.
Almost invisible.
A silver falcon.
And beneath it...
A number burned permanently into the skin.
May you like
H-17.
End of Chapter 9
