Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH FROM TWENTY YEARS AGO
No one moved.
Lily's small hand remained pointed toward the photograph.
Nadia gently lowered it.
“Go upstairs, sweetheart.”
“But—”
“Now.”
Lily frowned.
“I'm sleepy.”
Nadia kissed her forehead.
“I know.”
Damon watched Nadia carry her away.
He waited until the sound of her footsteps disappeared.
Then he turned toward Victor.
“Who took the photograph?”
Victor looked at the floor.
“Your father.”
Damon's eyes narrowed.
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
“You just told me the photograph was connected to Nadia.”
“It is.”
“How?”
Victor rubbed his jaw.
“I wasn't there when it happened.”
“But you know something.”
“Yes.”
Damon held the photograph up.
“Nadia was holding a baby.”
Victor nodded.
“Lily is three.”
“This photograph is older than Lily.”
“Then it isn't Lily.”
Damon stared at the image.
The baby did resemble Lily.
But resemblance was not proof.
He had lived long enough to know that appearances could be weapons.
“Then who is the child?”
Victor hesitated.
“Nadia's son.”
Damon froze.
“Nadia has a son?”
“Had.”
The word carried weight.
“What happened to him?”
Victor didn't answer.
Damon stepped closer.
“Victor.”
“He died.”
“How?”
“Your father said it was an accident.”
Damon's expression changed.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“What accident?”
“A fire.”
Damon looked back at the photograph.
“When?”
“Twenty years ago.”
Damon's mind moved quickly.
Nadia had been young.
Vincent Kane had known her.
A baby had died.
And somehow a photograph of that child had been hidden in a secret room inside the Kane estate.
None of it explained why Nadia still worked here.
None of it explained Lily.
And it certainly didn't explain the files tracking Nadia's movements.
Damon placed the photograph on the desk.
“Where was the fire?”
Victor's silence answered before his words did.
“The old Kane warehouse.”
Damon knew that building.
It had burned shortly after his father expanded the family business into Brooklyn shipping.
Officially, the fire had been caused by faulty wiring.
Three workers had died.
The company paid compensation.
The matter disappeared.
Damon had been seventeen.
He remembered his father returning home that night.
He remembered smoke on his coat.
He remembered the smell.
He had never asked questions.
He wished he had.
“What was Nadia doing there?”
Victor looked at him.
“She was trying to get her son out.”
Damon's stomach tightened.
“She failed.”
Victor nodded.
“And my father?”
“He arrived afterward.”
“Why?”
“To control the damage.”
Damon's voice became colder.
“That's what he called it?”
“No.”
Victor looked away.
“That is what I called it.”
Damon turned toward the door.
“We're going to speak to Nadia.”
Victor grabbed his arm.
“Not yet.”
Damon looked down at his hand.
Victor released him.
“Why?”
“Because she has spent twenty years believing that your family took her son from her.”
Damon's expression hardened.
“Did we?”
Victor didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
Damon walked out.
He found Nadia in the small kitchen attached to the staff wing.
Lily was asleep on a sofa nearby.
Nadia stood beside the sink.
She didn't turn around.
“You found the photograph.”
“Yes.”
“My life was easier when that room stayed closed.”
Damon stopped several feet away.
“Tell me about your son.”
Nadia's shoulders shook.
His name was Elias.
He had been nine months old when the warehouse caught fire.
Nadia had been working there illegally at night, cleaning offices for cash.
She had left Elias with a neighbor.
The neighbor had brought him to the warehouse after receiving an emergency message that Nadia had been injured.
The fire started before Nadia reached them.
She escaped.
Elias didn't.
Damon listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he asked, “Why did my father photograph you?”
“He didn't photograph me that night.”
She looked at him.
“He photographed me three days later.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted me to sign something.”
“What?”
“A statement saying I had never brought my son onto company property.”
Damon's face hardened.
“You refused.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He offered money.”
“I refused.”
“He offered a house.”
“I refused.”
“What did you accept?”
Nadia looked toward Lily.
“Nothing.”
Damon understood.
“My father kept your photograph.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don't know.”
Nadia's voice cracked.
“But I think he kept it because he knew one day someone would ask what really happened.”
Damon sat across from her.
“What really happened?”
Nadia looked at him for a long time.
“The fire didn't begin with faulty wiring.”
Damon went still.
“What caused it?”
“A man came looking for your father.”
“Who?”
“I never saw his face.”
“What did he want?”
“Money.”
“Did my father know?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He was the reason the man came.”
Damon's jaw tightened.
“Explain.”
Nadia swallowed.
“Your father had been moving money through the warehouse. Someone discovered it. They threatened to expose him.”
“Did my father start the fire?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“He didn't start it.”
“Then who did?”
“I don't know.”
Damon looked toward Lily.
“And where does Lily fit into this?”
Nadia closed her eyes.
“She doesn't.”
“Then why is her name in the notebook?”
Nadia looked frightened.
“Because someone believes she does.”
Damon stood.
“Who?”
Nadia shook her head.
“I don't know.”
Damon's voice remained calm.
“You've worked in my home for two years. You have protected Lily. You have never caused trouble. Why stay here if you believe my family destroyed your life?”
Nadia looked at him.
“Because your father isn't the only Kane who matters.”
Damon stared.
“What does that mean?”
Nadia's eyes filled with tears.
“Your mother.”
Damon froze.
His mother had died when he was twelve.
At least, that was what he had always been told.
“She knew about Elias.”
Damon's voice dropped.
“My mother?”
Nadia nodded.
“She came to the hospital after the fire.”
“My mother never went to that hospital.”
“She did.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she sat beside me.”
Nadia wiped her cheek.
“She held my hand and cried.”
Damon felt something inside him shift.
His mother had always been remembered as distant.
Elegant.
Private.
His father had told Damon she was too fragile to deal with the family business.
But now another woman claimed his mother had secretly visited her.
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“She wanted to.”
“What stopped her?”
Nadia looked toward the ceiling.
“Your father.”
Damon turned away.
The pieces were no longer forming a picture.
They were forming a wound.
He returned to the secret room that night with Victor.
Together they searched the drawers again.
This time Damon noticed something beneath the desk.
A narrow wooden compartment.
He pressed the edge.
It opened.
Inside was a small silver watch.
Old.
Scratched.
Stopped at 2:17.
Victor stared at it.
“You recognize it.”
Damon picked it up.
“No.”
Victor's face changed.
“I do.”
Damon looked at him.
“That was your father's.”
Victor shook his head.
“No.”
He pointed at the back.
“Look.”
There was an engraving.
Three words.
FOR ELIAS — ALWAYS.
Damon's fingers tightened around the watch.
The room seemed to become smaller.
Elias had died twenty years ago.
Yet someone had placed his watch inside the hidden room.
And beneath the engraving was another mark.
A date.
The same date as the warehouse fire.
Damon turned the watch over.
A tiny folded piece of paper had been tucked beneath the strap.
He opened it.
Only one sentence had been written.
THE FIRE WAS NOT MEANT TO KILL THE BOY.
Damon looked at Victor.
“What was it meant to do?”
Victor's face had lost all color.
Then he whispered,
May you like
“It was meant to erase someone else.”
---
