Chapter 5 - THE GIRL IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
For the first time in his life, Dorian Vance wanted to run from an answer.
He had spent years believing that fear was something other people experienced.
He had been shot at.
Threatened.
Betrayed.
Arrested.
Interrogated.
He had survived situations that would have broken men twice his age.
But nothing had prepared him for the possibility that his father had another child.
Because the little girl in the photograph looked familiar.
Not enough to recognize.
Enough to disturb him.
She had the same dark eyes.
The same sharp cheekbones.
The same expression Dorian remembered from childhood photographs of himself.
Marin stood beside him.
“Do you recognize her?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She looked again.
“Could she be a family friend?”
“Maybe.”
“Relative?”
“Possibly.”
Dorian turned the photograph over.
Nothing else.
He called Gabriel.
“Run the image.”
“Already doing it.”
“Find the woman who lived here.”
“We're working on it.”
“Find the boy too.”
“Understood.”
Dorian ended the call.
Marin looked around the empty house.
“Why would someone leave this for you?”
“To make me look.”
“Or to scare you.”
He nodded.
“That too.”
They searched the property with investigators.
Nothing.
No hidden rooms.
No secret documents.
No weapons.
No evidence of violence.
Only signs that someone had left recently.
A child's jacket.
A woman's prescription bottle.
A half-empty cereal box.
On the refrigerator was a school photograph.
The boy was sixteen.
His name was printed beneath it.
Ethan Vale.
Marin looked at Dorian.
“Vale.”
“I know.”
“What?”
“My father had a business partner named Samuel Vale.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
She sighed.
“Of course.”
Dorian almost smiled.
“Apparently death is very popular in my family.”
The humor disappeared when they found Ethan's school records.
His mother was listed as Rebecca Vale.
Father unknown.
Birth date sixteen years earlier.
Marin stared.
“Dorian.”
He looked at her.
“Do the math.”
His face changed.
His father had been dead nine years.
If Ethan was sixteen, he had been born seven years before the reported death.
That was possible.
But it didn't explain the little girl.
Then Gabriel called.
“Dorian.”
“What?”
“We found Rebecca.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Dorian closed his eyes.
“Bring her to a neutral location.”
“She's already agreed to meet.”
They met at a quiet law office.
Rebecca Vale was forty-three.
She looked exhausted.
The moment she saw Dorian, she began crying.
Marin sat beside him.
Rebecca looked at her.
“Are you Marin?”
“Yes.”
“I've heard about you.”
Dorian stiffened.
“From whom?”
Rebecca looked at him.
“Your father.”
The room went silent.
“When?”
“Before he died.”
Dorian leaned forward.
“You knew my father?”
Rebecca nodded.
“I loved him.”
Marin glanced at Dorian.
Rebecca continued.
“I didn't know about your mother at first.”
Dorian's jaw tightened.
“Were you his mistress?”
Rebecca looked down.
“Yes.”
The word hung in the room.
Dorian looked away.
His father's betrayal was no longer theoretical.
It had a face.
A family.
A child.
“Is Ethan my brother?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Yes.”
Dorian closed his eyes.
Marin reached for his hand.
Rebecca continued.
“There was also another child.”
Dorian looked up.
“The girl?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Her name was Sofia.”
The name hit him like a physical blow.
His younger sister had been named Sofia.
The sister who had raised Titan.
The sister who had supposedly died six years earlier.
Dorian's voice became barely audible.
“What do you mean another child?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Not mine.”
“Then whose?”
“Your father's.”
Marin stared.
“Who is she?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“She was your father's daughter from another relationship.”
Dorian felt dizzy.
“How many children did he have?”
Rebecca whispered—
“Four.”
The room went silent.
Dorian had grown up believing there were only two.
Himself.
And Sofia.
Now there were apparently two more.
A dead father.
A hidden brother.
A hidden sister.
And an entire network built around secrets.
“Where is Sofia?”
Rebecca looked at him strangely.
“I thought you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“She isn't dead.”
Dorian stood so quickly the chair moved backward.
“What?”
Rebecca began crying.
“Your father staged her death.”
“Why?”
“To protect her.”
“From whom?”
Rebecca looked toward the window.
“Marcus.”
Dorian went cold.
“His brother?”
“Yes.”
“Why would my uncle want my sister dead?”
“Because Sofia knew.”
“Knew what?”
Rebecca whispered—
“The money.”
Dorian stared.
Rebecca explained.
“Your father had been laundering money through construction companies for years.”
“Why?”
“To protect people.”
Dorian's expression hardened.
“That doesn't make it acceptable.”
“I know.”
“He killed nobody?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why protect him?”
Rebecca looked at Marin.
“Because people around him were worse.”
Marin understood the complexity immediately.
A corrupt man could still protect someone.
A criminal network could still contain people who feared something worse.
Rebecca continued.
“Sofia discovered the trust.”
“She discovered the payments.”
“She discovered Hawthorne Point.”
“She wanted to expose everything.”
“What happened?”
“Your father hid her.”
“And told us she died.”
“Yes.”
Dorian's voice broke.
“Why?”
“Because Marcus was looking for her.”
Marin asked—
“Where is she now?”
Rebecca reached into her purse.
She pulled out a small card.
An address.
Dorian read it.
His hands began shaking.
It was a rehabilitation center in Illinois.
Sofia had been there for six years.
Alive.
And according to the records, she had been admitted under another name.
Dorian looked at Marin.
“I buried my sister.”
Marin's eyes filled.
“I know.”
“I stood at her funeral.”
“I know.”
“I cried over an empty grave.”
Marin took his hand.
“And now you get to bring her home.”
They drove there immediately.
Dorian did not tell anyone except Gabriel.
The rehabilitation center was quiet.
Sofia was sitting near a window when they entered.
She looked older.
Thinner.
Her hair was shorter.
But Dorian recognized her instantly.
She looked up.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then she whispered—
“Dorian?”
He stopped.
Titan, who had followed them, suddenly pulled against the leash.
Dorian released it.
The dog ran to Sofia.
She began crying.
Titan pressed his head into her lap.
Just like he had done with Marin.
Sofia laughed through tears.
“He remembers.”
Dorian could not move.
Sofia looked at him.
“I thought you were dead.”
“So did everyone.”
She smiled weakly.
“I've been waiting six years.”
Dorian finally crossed the room.
They embraced.
He cried.
Not quietly.
Not like the man everyone feared.
Like a younger brother who had spent six years mourning someone who was still alive.
Marin watched from the doorway.
Then Sofia looked at her.
“You must be Marin.”
“Yes.”
Sofia smiled.
“Titan likes you.”
Marin laughed softly.
“He has questionable taste.”
Sofia looked at Dorian.
“No.”
Her expression became serious.
“He has excellent judgment.”
Dorian looked down at Titan.
Then Sofia whispered—
“There's something you need to know.”
“What?”
“Father didn't stage my death because of Marcus.”
Dorian froze.
“Then why?”
May you like
Sofia looked toward the hallway.
“Because someone inside your organization was trying to kill me.”
