Chapter 2 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Julian waited until the last guest had left before confronting Elena.
The mansion felt different after midnight.
The champagne glasses remained on the tables.
Half-melted candles flickered beneath the chandeliers.
But the laughter was gone.
So was Victoria.
Richard had ordered security to escort her to the east wing until attorneys could determine what happened next.
Elena stood in the library with her handbag clutched against her chest.
Julian closed the door.
“What did my mother mean?”
Elena looked toward Richard.
The older man appeared exhausted.
“Elena,” Richard said gently.
“If there is something we should know, tonight would be the time.”
She swallowed.
“There is.”
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“Were you lying to us?”
“Not about the necklace.”
“I know that.”
“Then what?”
Elena slowly opened her handbag.
Julian stiffened.
She reached beneath her wallet and removed an old photograph sealed inside a clear protective sleeve.
The picture had faded around the edges.
It showed a young woman standing beside the Harrington estate almost thirty years earlier.
Richard stopped breathing.
Julian noticed immediately.
“Dad?”
Richard took the photograph with trembling fingers.
“Where did you get this?”
“It belonged to my mother.”
Richard stared at the woman.
“Isabel.”
Elena nodded.
“My mother’s name was Isabel Torres.”
Richard lowered himself into a chair.
Julian looked between them.
“You knew her?”
Richard’s voice was almost inaudible.
“Yes.”
Victoria’s voice suddenly came from the doorway.
“He did more than know her.”
Everyone turned.
Victoria stood there in a silk robe.
Two security guards remained behind her.
She looked almost amused.
“Tell him, Richard.”
Richard rose.
“Go upstairs.”
“No.”
“Victoria.”
“Our son deserves the truth.”
Julian stepped forward.
“What truth?”
Victoria looked directly at him.
“Your father had an affair with Elena’s mother.”
Elena flinched.
Richard closed his eyes.
Julian stared at his father.
“Is that true?”
Richard didn’t answer quickly enough.
Julian’s expression hardened.
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
The single word seemed to change the temperature in the room.
Victoria laughed bitterly.
“Now we’re finally getting somewhere.”
Richard looked at Elena.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Something passed across his face.
Shock.
Fear.
Calculation.
Elena understood what he was thinking.
“No.”
Richard looked at her.
“My mother told me you weren’t my father.”
Victoria folded her arms.
“That is what Isabel told everyone.”
Julian turned toward Elena again.
“What exactly are you saying?”
Elena took a breath.
“My mother died four years ago.”
“She left me that photograph and a letter.”
“A letter about what?”
Elena hesitated.
Then she reached into her bag again.
But the envelope was gone.
Her heart stopped.
She emptied the contents onto the library table.
Wallet.
Keys.
Phone.
Handkerchief.
Nothing else.
“The letter was here.”
Julian frowned.
“When did you last see it?”
“Before the party.”
Victoria smiled from the doorway.
Elena stared at her.
“You took it.”
Victoria’s smile vanished.
Richard moved toward his wife.
“Where is Isabel’s letter?”
Victoria said nothing.
Then the house alarm suddenly began screaming.
A security guard touched his earpiece.
“Sir.”
Richard turned.
“What happened?”
The guard’s face changed.
“There’s a fire in Mrs. Harrington’s study.”
May you like
Elena looked at Victoria.
And Victoria finally smiled again.
