Chapter 6 - The Woman Behind The Door
The screen froze.
The woman in the shadows.
The face hidden for four years.
The person standing behind my father on the night Emma died.
I stared at the monitor, refusing to accept what my own eyes were showing me.
Because the impossible had just become real.
Elizabeth stepped closer.
Her breathing changed.
“You know her.”
It wasn't a question.
I looked at her.
“You do too.”
Elizabeth didn't answer.
That was enough.
I turned back to the screen.
“Play it again.”
Marcus hesitated.
“Andrew—”
“Play it.”
The video restarted.
The same moment.
My father standing in my home.
The same envelope.
The same conversation I couldn't hear.
Then the shadow moved.
The woman stepped forward.
For one second, her face appeared.
Just one second.
But it was enough.
Because I knew exactly who she was.
“Victoria.”
The name left my mouth before I realized I had spoken it.
Elizabeth looked at me.
“You remember her?”
Of course I remembered her.
Everyone in my family remembered Victoria Hale.
She was my father's former assistant.
The person who managed his private affairs.
The woman who knew every secret in the James family.
And four years ago, she disappeared.
Officially, she left the country.
No explanation.
No goodbye.
Nothing.
My father told everyone she betrayed him.
He said she stole information and ran.
I believed him.
Because why wouldn't I?
My father had never lied to me.
At least, that's what I thought.
“She was there,” I whispered.
Elizabeth nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
My eyes moved to the frozen image.
“My father and Victoria.”
“And Emma.”
I looked at her.
“What were they doing?”
Elizabeth swallowed.
“I don't know.”
“You know more than you're telling me.”
Her expression changed.
And I knew I was right.
“Elizabeth.”
She looked away.
“I was there that night.”
The room went silent.
Marcus stopped moving.
Even Alex looked up.
“You were where?”
Elizabeth's voice became smaller.
“At the penthouse.”
My anger rose immediately.
“You were there when my wife died?”
“I was outside.”
“Why?”
“Because Emma called me.”
The answer stopped me.
“She called you?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes.
“She said if anything happened, I needed to take care of Alex.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“And you didn't tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“The day after the funeral.”
I stared at her.
“What happened?”
Elizabeth looked at Marcus.
Then at the security cameras.
“Someone stopped me.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Who?”
Her voice dropped.
“Your father.”
The anger inside me went quiet.
Not gone.
Worse.
Controlled.
“What did he say?”
Elizabeth looked at me.
“He told me that if I cared about Alex, I would disappear.”
I looked toward my son.
The little boy who had spent months trapped inside his own silence.
The little boy who trusted Elizabeth more than anyone.
“You stayed away for four years.”
“Yes.”
“Then why come back?”
Her eyes moved to Alex.
“Because Emma's last request was never about exposing the truth.”
I waited.
“It was about saving him.”
I looked at Alex.
“What happened to him?”
Elizabeth hesitated.
And that hesitation terrified me.
“Andrew…”
“Tell me.”
She took a breath.
“Emma discovered someone had been manipulating Alex's memories.”
The room froze.
“What?”
“She noticed he became afraid of specific things.”
The kitchen.
The pantry.
Certain voices.
Certain rooms.
“I thought it was grief.”
Elizabeth shook her head.
“So did everyone else.”
Her eyes moved to my son.
“But Emma didn't.”
I remembered the drawing.
The erased face.
The words.
Not safe.
“She thought someone was teaching him to be afraid.”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Yes.”
A cold feeling moved through me.
“Who?”
She looked at the monitor.
At my father.
At Victoria.
“I think you already know.”
I didn't want to.
But somewhere deep inside, I did.
My entire life was built around loyalty.
Family.
Protection.
Honor.
But what if the person I spent my life protecting was the person I should have feared?
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone in the room looked at it.
I answered.
No one spoke at first.
Then a voice.
A woman's voice.
Older.
Tired.
Familiar.
“Andrew.”
My blood froze.
Because I knew that voice.
I hadn't heard it in four years.
But I knew.
“Victoria?”
A quiet breath.
Then:
“You finally found the footage.”
I stood completely still.
“Where are you?”
“You shouldn't have looked.”
“Where are you?”
Silence.
Then she whispered:
“Your father knows.”
I looked around the room.
“What does he know?”
“That Emma left something behind.”
My eyes moved to the wooden box.
The phone.
The drawings.
The hidden messages.
“What?”
Victoria's voice became urgent.
“The thing she hid before she died.”
My heart raced.
“What thing?”
A pause.
Then:
“The evidence proving who actually killed her.”
The call suddenly changed.
A sound in the background.
A door opening.
Victoria gasped.
“Andrew, I have to go.”
“Victoria.”
“Listen to me.”
Her voice shook.
“If Charles reaches Alex before you find it—”
The line cut.
I stared at the phone.
Then I noticed something.
A new message appeared.
Not from Victoria.
From my father.
One sentence.
Bring my grandson to me.
I looked toward the hallway.
May you like
Alex was gone.
And the front door of the penthouse was slowly opening.
