Chapter 3 - I didn't sleep.At four in the morning, I found my father sitting alone in the kitchen.
He looked older than he had the night before.
A file sat open beside him.
I walked in.
He didn't look surprised.
“You're supposed to be asleep.”
“So are you.”
He gave me a tired smile.
“Fair.”
I sat across from him.
“What disappeared with Mom?”
He stared at the table.
“Your brother.”
I thought he was joking.
I waited.
He didn't smile.
“I had a brother?”
“You had an older brother.”
I could barely hear myself speak.
“What was his name?”
“Ethan.”
“How old?”
“Eight years older than you.”
“What happened to him?”
Dad's silence was worse than any answer.
“He disappeared the same year your mother died.”
I stood.
“You told me I was an only child.”
“Yes.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head.
“Why?”
“Because someone was hunting this family.”
“Who?”
“The Hales.”
I stared at him.
Dad pushed the folder toward me.
Inside were photographs.
A boy.
Dark hair.
Hazel eyes.
He looked nothing like me.
But I knew immediately that he was my brother.
The last photograph showed him standing beside my mother.
On the back was handwritten:
DO NOT TRUST MICHAEL.
My stomach twisted.
“What does that mean?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I spent eleven years trying to find him.”
“Is he alive?”
Dad looked at me.
“I don't know.”
Before I could answer, a gunshot cracked somewhere outside.
I froze.
Daniel appeared in the doorway.
“Down!”
He pulled me behind the kitchen island.
Two more shots echoed.
Security alarms screamed.
Dad remained completely calm.
“Where?”
“North gate.”
“Any injuries?”
“Unknown.”
Daniel touched his earpiece.
Then his expression changed.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“The cameras are down.”
Dad looked at me.
“Go to the safe room.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“No.”
He grabbed my wrist.
“Listen to me.”
Another gunshot.
“People have died because they knew less than you do.”
I stared at him.
“I’m not hiding again.”
Dad's eyes hardened.
Then he released me.
“Fine.”
He looked at Daniel.
“Bring her.”
We moved through the house.
The hallways were dark.
Security personnel rushed past us.
Then the alarm stopped.
Silence.
A strange, unnatural silence.
One of the guards came running.
“Sir, we found something.”
We followed him to the rear garden.
A black envelope lay beneath the fountain.
Dad bent down.
He opened it.
Inside was a single photograph.
A woman.
My mother.
Standing beside a teenage boy.
Ethan.
And beside Ethan was another man.
I recognized him.
Victor Hale.
My father's worst rival.
My blood ran cold.
On the back of the photograph was a message.
YOU HAVE THREE DAYS TO FIND YOUR SON.
Dad crushed the photo in his hand.
“Impossible.”
Daniel stared at him.
“Sir?”
Dad shook his head.
“Ethan died.”
I looked at him.
“You just said you didn't know.”
“I lied.”
My voice broke.
“You lied again.”
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Dad.”
He finally looked at me.
“I found his body eleven years ago.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“Then why is he in this photograph?”
“I don't know.”
A guard rushed toward us.
“Sir!”
Everyone turned.
“What?”
“We recovered footage from a private camera outside the estate.”
Daniel grabbed the tablet.
The screen flickered.
A figure approached the gate.
Tall.
Dark coat.
Baseball cap.
He turned toward the camera.
And for one second, his face became visible.
I stared.
My heart stopped.
I knew those eyes.
Not because I remembered them.
Because I had spent twenty years looking at my own face in the mirror.
The man on the screen had my eyes.
My mother's jaw.
My father's expression.
He looked directly at the camera.
Then he lifted one hand.
A ring glinted under the security light.
A silver ring with the Carter family crest.
My father dropped the tablet.
“No.”
I whispered.
“That's Ethan.”
Daniel turned to him.
“Sir…”
Dad backed away from the screen.
“That isn't possible.”
I looked at my father.
“Why?”
He stared at me.
“Because I buried that ring with him.”
No one moved.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A new message.
HE'S NOT THE ONE YOU SHOULD FEAR.
Another message arrived.
YOUR MOTHER IS STILL ALIVE.
And then a photograph appeared.
My mother.
Taken that same night.
Standing inside a room I recognized.
My father's study.
The photograph timestamp read:
2:17 A.M.
I slowly looked around.
The study was empty.
But the photo had been taken inside it.
Someone had been watching us from within our own house.
Then I noticed a tiny reflection in the photograph.
A mirror.
And in the mirror stood a woman.
My mother.
Looking directly into the camera.
Behind her stood a man.
May you like
Victor Hale.
He was smiling.
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