Chapter 3 - The Man Beside Her
Jane grabbed the door handle.
Nothing happened.
Locked.
Vincent looked at Marco.
“Unlock the doors.”
Marco pressed the control.
The locks clicked.
Jane immediately noticed Vincent had not reached for her.
He could have.
Instead, he sat still.
“Someone wants you afraid of me,” he said.
Jane laughed sharply.
“I arrived afraid of you.”
“Then someone wants you more afraid.”
She held up his phone.
“How did they get a picture from inside your house?”
Vincent looked at Marco.
“Security breach.”
Marco was already calling someone.
Jane studied Vincent.
“What if the message is true?”
“It might be.”
He did not sound offended.
That made it harder.
“What?”
“You shouldn’t trust me.”
Jane blinked.
Vincent continued.
“Not yet.”
“Most guilty people try harder to sound innocent.”
“I’ve been guilty of enough things that pretending otherwise would waste both our time.”
Jane stared at him.
“Did you kill people?”
Marco looked over his shoulder.
Vincent didn’t.
“Yes.”
Jane’s stomach tightened.
“Why would you tell me that?”
“You asked.”
“Were they innocent?”
Vincent looked out the window.
“No.”
“That doesn’t make it legal.”
“No.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Some.”
She waited.
He looked at her again.
“Not all.”
Jane hated that she believed him.
Not because the answer was comforting.
Because it wasn’t.
Charlotte had lied beautifully.
Vincent told ugly truths.
That made him more dangerous in some ways.
And safer in others.
The SUV continued north.
Luca worked from a laptop in the third row.
“Boss.”
Vincent turned.
“The photo from the office came from camera eight.”
“House system?”
“Yes.”
“Who has access?”
“You. Me. Marco. Rosa. Security chief.”
Jane looked at Marco.
He didn’t react.
Vincent said, “Disable remote access.”
“Already done.”
The vehicle reached Lake Forest shortly before two in the morning.
Charlotte’s house sat behind iron gates.
Every light was off.
Vincent’s people entered first.
Jane waited in the SUV exactly forty seconds before getting out.
Vincent swore under his breath.
“You said stay beside me.”
“I am.”
“You were supposed to wait.”
“You didn’t say how long.”
Marco coughed, possibly hiding a laugh.
Vincent shot him a look.
The front door stood open.
Inside, the house was empty.
Jane walked through familiar rooms.
The dining room where Charlotte had criticized her posture.
The staircase where Jane had sat at thirteen listening to Charlotte and Daniel argue about money.
The kitchen where Charlotte had nearly strangled her two nights earlier.
Now everything was silent.
Too clean.
Vincent entered the study.
“Jane.”
She joined him.
A laptop sat open on Daniel’s old desk.
One file occupied the screen.
JANE_WHITMORE_FINAL.
Luca approached.
“Don’t touch it.”
He examined the laptop.
“No network.”
He connected a device.
Jane watched.
“What is it?”
“A video.”
Luca looked at Vincent.
“Play it.”
The screen turned black.
Then Charlotte appeared.
She was seated in an unfamiliar room.
Hair perfect.
Pearl earrings.
Cream blouse.
As if recording a corporate announcement.
“If you’re watching this, Jane,” she began, “you have once again survived longer than expected.”
Jane’s throat tightened.
Vincent stood beside her.
Charlotte continued.
“You probably believe Vincent Moretti rescued you.”
She smiled.
“He enjoys that role.”
Vincent’s expression did not move.
“You also probably believe I stole you from a hospital. That part is true.”
Jane gripped the desk.
Vincent looked at her.
Charlotte’s recorded voice went on.
“But you should ask yourself why.”
The screen changed.
A photograph appeared.
Elena Marconi.
Pregnant.
Standing beside Daniel Mercer.
Jane stopped breathing.
Daniel had one arm around Elena’s shoulders.
They were smiling.
The next photo showed them kissing.
Jane backed away.
“No.”
Charlotte reappeared.
“Daniel Mercer was Elena Marconi’s lover.”
Vincent’s face turned to stone.
Jane looked at him.
“You didn’t know.”
“No.”
Charlotte continued.
“And yes, Jane. Daniel was your biological father.”
Jane closed her eyes.
The man who had raised her.
The man Charlotte told her was only a family friend.
The man who had signed Elena’s death certificate.
Her father.
Vincent stepped closer.
Jane raised one hand.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Charlotte’s voice filled the room.
“Elena wanted to run away with Daniel. Vincent’s father refused to allow it. He believed Daniel was beneath the family.”
Vincent whispered, “That sounds like him.”
Jane stared at the screen.
“On the night Jane was born, Elena went into labor early. Daniel called me.”
Charlotte paused.
“I was his closest friend.”
Jane’s mouth twisted.
Of course.
There was always a triangle hidden somewhere.
“Daniel asked me to help them disappear after the birth.”
Charlotte’s smile vanished.
“I helped.”
The screen changed again.
Hospital records.
A transfer form.
A photograph of infant Jane.
Then Charlotte returned.
“But Elena died.”
Jane’s eyes filled.
“And Daniel broke.”
Charlotte’s voice softened almost convincingly.
“He blamed Vincent’s family. He believed if they had accepted him, Elena would still be alive.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
Charlotte continued.
“So Daniel made a choice. He asked me to hide you.”
Jane whispered, “From Vincent.”
“Yes,” Charlotte said on the recording as if answering her.
“For years, Daniel and I told ourselves it was protection.”
Jane laughed bitterly.
“But eventually protection becomes possession.”
Charlotte smiled faintly.
“Children are expensive.”
Vincent’s face darkened.
Jane felt nothing.
Not yet.
The shock was too large.
Charlotte continued.
“When Daniel discovered Vincent was still searching, he became afraid. By then, too many documents had been forged. Too many people had been paid.”
The screen changed.
A bank ledger appeared.
Payments.
Names.
Dates.
One name repeated.
Dr. Samuel Whitmore.
Jane frowned.
“My grandfather?”
Charlotte returned.
“Samuel Whitmore was my father. He helped falsify the medical records.”
Jane nearly fell.
Vincent caught the back of the chair instead of her body.
A small gesture.
But she noticed.
“Why?” Jane whispered.
Charlotte answered from the past.
“Because Daniel paid him.”
The video continued.
“By the time you were five, Daniel had begun to think of you as his daughter. He moved into our house. He taught you to ride a bicycle. He sat beside your bed when you had pneumonia.”
Jane remembered.
Daniel asleep in a chair beside her.
A cold washcloth on her forehead.
Pancakes burned every Sunday.
Was all of it a lie?
No.
That was the unbearable part.
Some of it had been love.
Charlotte’s face hardened.
“But Daniel grew weak.”
Jane stared.
“He wanted to tell you the truth.”
Vincent looked at her.
“He tried three years ago.”
Jane’s breath caught.
Three years ago Daniel had asked her to lunch.
He had been nervous.
He kept touching an envelope in his jacket.
Before dessert Charlotte arrived unexpectedly.
The conversation ended.
Daniel died in a car accident two days later.
Jane whispered, “No.”
Charlotte’s recording continued.
“Daniel’s death was unfortunate.”
Vincent’s eyes sharpened.
“That wording.”
Jane knew too.
Charlotte had said the same thing after the funeral.
Unfortunate.
Not tragic.
Not devastating.
Unfortunate.
The video cut to black.
Then text appeared.
ASK VINCENT WHAT HIS FATHER DID.
Jane turned.
“What did your father do?”
Vincent didn’t answer.
“What did he do to Elena?”
“I don’t know.”
The screen lit again.
Charlotte returned for one final message.
“You think Vincent is the good man in this story because he tore up a contract.”
Her smile was small.
“Ask him about the hospital basement.”
The video ended.
Jane stared at Vincent.
“What happened in the basement?”
“I was nineteen.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“My father sent men to the hospital.”
“Why?”
“To bring Elena home.”
“Before or after I was born?”
“After.”
Jane’s stomach dropped.
“What did they do?”
“I don’t know.”
“Vincent.”
“I swear to you.”
She searched his face.
He looked furious.
Not at her.
At himself.
“At nineteen,” he said, “I followed them.”
Jane froze.
“You were there?”
“Yes.”
“In the basement?”
“Yes.”
“What did you see?”
Vincent looked away.
“Blood.”
Jane’s knees weakened.
“Whose?”
“I never knew.”
She backed away.
“And you’ve spent twenty-eight years telling yourself you were looking for me?”
“I was.”
“What if your family caused Elena’s death?”
Vincent’s voice broke slightly.
“Then I’ll prove that too.”
Jane stared at him.
No defense.
No excuse.
Just truth.
Luca interrupted.
“There’s another file.”
He opened it.
Audio only.
A man’s voice.
Daniel.
Jane recognized it instantly.
“My name is Daniel Mercer. If this recording is being heard, then Charlotte knows I planned to tell Jane everything.”
Jane covered her mouth.
Daniel’s voice trembled.
“Elena did not die from childbirth complications.”
Vincent moved closer.
“She was murdered.”
The room seemed to stop.
Jane stared at the laptop.
Daniel continued.
“I know because I saw who entered her room.”
Jane whispered, “Who?”
The recording crackled.
Then footsteps sounded elsewhere in the house.
Not from the laptop.
Real footsteps.
Upstairs.
Marco drew his weapon.
Vincent moved in front of Jane.
A floorboard creaked above them.
Someone was inside the house.
Jane looked toward the staircase.
A shadow crossed the landing.
Then a familiar male voice called down softly.
“Jane?”
Her heart stopped.
She knew that voice.
May you like
Daniel Mercer had been dead for three years.
But he was standing upstairs.
