Chapter 9 - The Woman Who Looked Like MeFor several seconds, nobody moved.
George held the photograph like a weapon.
I stared at the woman.
Same dark eyes.
Same jawline.
Same small scar above the left eyebrow.
I touched my own forehead.
“Who is she?”
My father didn't answer.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“She was your mother’s sister.”
I felt the room tilt.
“You had an aunt?”
“Yes.”
“Why have I never heard of her?”
“Because she died before you were born.”
George laughed.
“That's the story he told everyone.”
Dad's eyes hardened.
“Enough.”
George pointed at the photograph.
“Her name was Clara.”
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared.”
Dad stepped forward.
“George.”
“Tell him.”
My father said nothing.
George laughed again.
“Your father has spent twelve years protecting a lie.”
I grabbed George by the collar.
“Where is Fiona?”
“She left before I did.”
I released him.
“What?”
“She was never here.”
Then he smiled.
“She called me after she found the documents.”
A horrible realization hit me.
“You set this up.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
He looked toward Dad.
“Ask him.”
Dad motioned toward the security team.
“Take George.”
As the guards removed him, I turned to my father.
“Tell me everything.”
Dad looked exhausted.
“Clara discovered the investment syndicate.”
“The Black Triangle.”
“Yes.”
“She tried to expose them.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She disappeared.”
“Did they kill her?”
“We never found a body.”
“Then why did you tell me she was dead?”
“Because when you were born, someone threatened to take you.”
I froze.
“Who?”
“Black Triangle.”
Dad's voice shook.
“They said if I contacted Clara, they'd come for you.”
“But she was my aunt.”
“She was trying to protect you.”
“Where is she now?”
Dad looked at the photograph.
“I don't know.”
A phone rang.
Not mine.
Not Dad's.
One of the security officers answered.
Then looked at us.
“Mr. Henderson, we found a vehicle.”
“Whose?”
“Ms. Martinez.”
We rushed outside.
The car had been abandoned near the river.
The driver's door was open.
Inside was Fiona's handbag.
Her passport.
And a note.
Blake, don't trust your father.
I stared at the message.
Dad didn't react.
“Could be a trap,” he said.
I looked at him.
“Everything is a trap now.”
Under the passenger seat, security found another flash drive.
We took it back to headquarters.
The file was encrypted.
Margaret needed six hours.
We had twenty minutes.
Then a second message appeared on my phone.
Unknown number.
I KNOW WHAT YOUR FATHER DID TO CLARA.
I typed back.
Who are you?
The reply came instantly.
Someone who was there the night she disappeared.
Another message.
Meet me alone.
Location coordinates followed.
My father saw the screen.
“No.”
“I'm going.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Dad, I'm done being protected from half-truths.”
He grabbed my arm.
“I lost one woman I loved.”
His voice broke.
“I am not losing my son.”
That stopped me.
But the message kept glowing on my screen.
Come alone. 11:30 p.m.
I went anyway.
The warehouse was empty when I arrived.
Then I heard footsteps.
A woman emerged from the darkness.
Older.
Tired.
Holding a black triangle pendant.
She removed her hood.
I stopped breathing.
She looked exactly like the woman in the photograph.
“Clara?”
She nodded.
Then whispered,
“You have your mother's eyes.”
I couldn't speak.
She stepped closer.
“Your father told you I was dead.”
“Yes.”
“He lied.”
“Why?”
Clara looked past me.
At the entrance.
Then her eyes widened.
“Because he wasn't the one who betrayed me.”
I turned.
A gunshot shattered the warehouse.
May you like
Clara collapsed.
And behind her, in the darkness, stood Fiona.
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