Chapter 4 - The Woman in Elena’s Last Photograph
Victor survived.
Barely.
Police found him in a roadside motel outside Richmond with a bullet wound through his shoulder.
The attacker escaped.
Damon flew there privately with investigators.
He did not take Naomi.
She insisted on remaining with Zuri.
That was reasonable.
Damon still disliked it.
Victor looked older than forty-five.
Five years of running from debt, suspicion, and people who wanted him quiet had carved deep lines around his eyes.
“You look terrible,” Damon said.
Victor smiled weakly.
“You still dress like Dad.”
“Insult unnecessary.”
“You started it.”
Brothers.
Even after everything.
Damon sat.
“Adrian.”
Victor nodded.
“How long?”
“I suspected him before Elena died.”
“Why?”
“Malcolm never had the courage to build something this large alone.”
“What did Adrian want?”
“Control.”
“He had money.”
“Not enough.”
Damon frowned.
Victor continued.
“Dad left you controlling interest.”
“Yes.”
“Adrian expected it.”
“Why?”
“He built half the acquisitions.”
“Dad chose me.”
“Exactly.”
Resentment.
Old.
Patient.
Adrian didn't need Damon merely embarrassed.
He needed succession changed.
Elena and Isaiah discovered the financial network too early.
“Did Adrian order their deaths?”
Victor looked away.
“I think so.”
“Think?”
“I have recordings of Malcolm referencing ‘A.’ No direct order.”
“What about this?”
Damon showed the INCIDENTS files.
Victor’s face changed.
“You found Isaiah’s laptop.”
“Yes.”
“Then Elena succeeded.”
“In what?”
“Getting evidence out.”
Victor explained that Elena had contacted him shortly before she died.
He gave her a photograph.
Adrian and Malcolm meeting with a banker.
Damon frowned.
“What photograph?”
Victor looked confused.
“She didn't leave it?”
Damon thought of the music box.
The envelopes.
Ring compartment.
Nothing.
Victor said:
“She told me she'd hide it somewhere only you would eventually look.”
That could mean anything.
Damon returned to the estate.
Zuri solved it in less than five minutes.
Again.
He showed her Elena’s photograph.
“Where does sad lady go?”
Zuri pointed.
“Pretty chair.”
The brown leather chair in the grand salon.
The same one shown in the supplied image of their lives now—the type of ornate chair Zuri loved climbing into.
Damon searched beneath it.
Nothing.
Zuri climbed up and stuck her hand behind the cushion.
She produced a photograph.
Naomi stared.
“You cannot be serious.”
Damon almost smiled.
“Apparently my security system is a toddler.”
The photograph showed Adrian Ashford.
Malcolm Vane.
And a woman Damon recognized.
Catherine Bell.
Elena’s older sister.
Damon froze.
Naomi saw.
“Who?”
“Elena’s sister.”
“Where is she?”
“California.”
“At least supposedly.”
Catherine had cut contact after Elena’s funeral.
She blamed Damon for Elena’s death.
So did Damon.
Now she stood in a photograph beside the people who may have killed her sister.
He called.
Number disconnected.
Adrian answered instead.
“Damon.”
His uncle’s voice was warm.
Too warm.
“I heard Victor was injured.”
“How?”
“Family hears things.”
Damon stared across his study.
Zuri sat in his chair again.
Of course.
“Where’s Catherine Bell?”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Curiosity.”
“She moved abroad.”
“No.”
A pause.
“You sound tired.”
“Three years of grief will do that.”
Adrian sighed.
“Your father would hate what this family became.”
Damon smiled without humor.
“Funny. I was thinking the same about you.”
The call ended.
Twenty minutes later, mansion security reported a vehicle at the gate.
No appointment.
Driver:
Catherine Bell.
She walked into the salon wearing a dark coat.
Elena’s face existed inside hers.
Older.
Harder.
Damon felt grief shift.
Catherine saw him.
“I didn’t know if you’d let me in.”
“You're standing here.”
Her eyes moved to Naomi.
Then Zuri.
The child stared.
Catherine froze.
“What?”
Damon noticed.
“You know Zuri?”
“No.”
But she looked terrified.
Zuri pointed.
“Song lady sister.”
Naomi inhaled.
Catherine sat down.
“How could she—”
Damon had stopped asking how children noticed things adults missed.
“Start talking.”
Catherine took out a folder.
“I worked with Elena.”
There.
Not betrayal.
Investigation.
She had infiltrated Adrian’s circle by pretending she resented Damon enough to help.
Adrian believed her.
For a while.
“She was trying to prove he controlled Malcolm.”
“Why disappear after Elena died?”
“Because he knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I was feeding her information.”
Catherine had lived under another name for three years.
Now she returned because Adrian’s people found her.
“Why come here?”
“Because you finally opened the wall.”
Damon stared.
“How does everyone know about my walls?”
“Elena told me where she hid the recorder.”
“And you didn't get it?”
“She made me promise only you could.”
Damon hated promises from dead people.
Catherine continued.
“There’s another reason.”
“What?”
She looked at Naomi.
“Isaiah wasn’t working alone.”
Naomi stiffened.
“With whom?”
“Your father.”
Naomi shook her head.
“My father died when I was seventeen.”
“Not your biological father.”
The room went silent.
Naomi stared.
“What are you talking about?”
Catherine opened the folder.
Birth certificate.
Old court records.
Photographs.
Naomi’s mother had worked for an Ashford subsidiary twenty-nine years earlier.
Her biological father:
Adrian Ashford.
Damon looked at Naomi.
Naomi looked physically ill.
“No.”
Catherine’s voice softened.
“Isaiah discovered it while investigating Adrian.”
Naomi backed away.
“That’s impossible.”
“Your mother hid it.”
“Why?”
“Because Adrian paid her to.”
Damon felt the story twist again.
Naomi wasn’t just a maid who entered the Ashford estate looking for answers.
She was Ashford blood.
Adrian’s daughter.
Which meant Zuri—
was Adrian’s granddaughter.
Damon looked at the little girl in the pink dress sitting in his wife’s favorite chair.
Suddenly Adrian’s interest in Naomi made even darker sense.
She was not only a witness.
She was family.
And under one obscure clause of the Ashford trust, blood descendants of Adrian could potentially inherit voting shares if his branch regained control.
Naomi whispered:
“He doesn’t want me dead.”
Catherine looked at her sadly.
“No.”
May you like
Damon understood first.
“He wants to use you.”
