Chapter 6 - The Woman With My Mother’s Face
The woman holding my childhood coat looked exactly like my mother.
Not almost.
Exactly.
The same dark eyes.
The same narrow chin.
The same slight curve at the corner of her mouth.
Only age separated them.
My mother had died young in every photograph I owned.
This woman had silver threaded through her dark hair and fine lines around her eyes.
She held the little red coat against her chest.
“Hello, Amelia.”
Jonathan stepped in front of me.
“Rebecca.”
She looked past me toward him.
“Still hiding behind your daughter?”
His face tightened.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
Rebecca smiled.
“So were you.”
Vincent entered behind us, followed by Daniel, Tyler, and Vanessa.
Rebecca’s gaze stopped on Vincent.
Her smile disappeared.
“Vincent Moretti.”
“You know me?”
“I knew Samuel.”
The room changed.
Vincent moved closer.
“Everyone tonight seems to have known my brother except me.”
Rebecca put the coat carefully over the back of a chair.
“Samuel tried to do the right thing.”
“So people keep telling me.”
“He paid for it.”
“Who killed him?”
Rebecca glanced toward Jonathan.
My father immediately said, “Don’t.”
Vincent noticed.
“So you know.”
Rebecca answered, “We all know more than we admit.”
I stepped around Jonathan.
“No.”
Everyone looked at me.
“I am finished with that sentence.”
Rebecca studied me.
“No more riddles. No more warnings. No more telling me I’m in danger while refusing to tell me why.”
I pointed toward her.
“You entered my house.”
Then Jonathan.
“You let me believe you were dead.”
Then Tyler.
“You lied to me for two years and cheated on me for almost one.”
Tyler lowered his eyes.
I looked at Vincent.
“And apparently your family is connected to mine.”
Finally, Daniel.
“And someone just transferred a surveillance empire into my name.”
I looked back at Rebecca.
“So start talking.”
For several seconds, she simply stared.
Then she smiled faintly.
“You sound like your mother.”
My chest tightened.
“Did you love her?”
The smile vanished.
“More than anyone.”
“Then tell me why she died.”
Rebecca walked toward the fireplace.
There was a framed photograph of my mother on the mantel.
She picked it up.
“We were identical twins, but we were never alike.”
She touched the glass.
“Your mother believed people could still choose to be good.”
“And you?”
“I learned earlier.”
“Learned what?”
“That good people usually become evidence.”
Vincent crossed his arms.
“Samuel?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Samuel found your grandfather’s archive.”
“My grandfather?”
She looked at me.
“Charles Whitmore.”
My grandfather.
Founder.
Philanthropist.
Portrait in the Hart Meridian lobby.
Rebecca continued.
“Charles understood something before most businessmen did. Money buys things. Secrets buy people.”
Daniel said, “The surveillance network.”
“It was smaller then.”
“Hotels?”
“Mostly. Private clubs. Offices. Restaurants. Anywhere powerful people believed they were safe.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“And Marcus helped him?”
“At first.”
Jonathan interrupted.
“Marcus didn’t understand what Charles intended.”
Rebecca laughed.
“You’re defending Marcus now?”
“I’m stating facts.”
“Facts were never your specialty.”
“Enough,” I said.
They stopped.
“What happened to Samuel?”
Rebecca looked at Vincent.
“Samuel discovered that Charles had been using Vale-Whitmore Logistics to move surveillance equipment and hidden records between properties.”
“And?”
“He copied documents.”
“For federal investigators?”
“Yes.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Charles found out.”
Rebecca nodded.
“The warehouse burned.”
Vincent stared at her.
“Was Samuel alive when the fire started?”
Rebecca didn’t answer immediately.
That delay was enough.
Vincent moved toward her.
“Was he?”
“Yes.”
His face went blank.
Not angry.
Worse.
“Who locked the doors?”
Rebecca looked toward Jonathan.
Jonathan shook his head.
“Rebecca.”
“Tell him yourself.”
Vincent turned.
My father looked suddenly exhausted.
“I was there.”
Silence.
Vincent crossed the room in two steps.
I barely saw him move.
He grabbed Jonathan by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
Vanessa gasped.
“Vincent!” I shouted.
He ignored me.
“You were there?”
Jonathan held his hands away from Vincent.
“Yes.”
“You let my brother burn?”
“No.”
“Then explain.”
“I tried to get him out.”
“Try harder.”
“I was twenty-eight years old and terrified!”
“So was Samuel!”
“I know!”
The shout echoed through my living room.
Jonathan’s eyes filled with something I hadn’t seen before.
Shame.
“I was supposed to watch the rear entrance.”
“For Charles?”
“For Marcus.”
Vincent froze.
Rebecca looked away.
Jonathan continued.
“Marcus knew Charles had discovered Samuel’s plan. He believed Charles would destroy the evidence that night.”
“So Marcus sent you there?”
“Yes.”
“To save the records?”
“And Samuel.”
Vincent’s grip tightened.
“What happened?”
“Someone changed the locks.”
“Who?”
“I never knew.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I spent thirty years trying to find out.”
Vincent released him.
Jonathan straightened his jacket.
Rebecca quietly said, “He’s telling the truth about that part.”
Vincent looked at her.
“That part?”
Rebecca set down the photograph.
“The fire was never supposed to kill Samuel.”
“Whose plan was it?”
“Charles intended to destroy the warehouse records.”
“And someone turned it into murder.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Rebecca’s eyes moved toward the encrypted drive in Jonathan’s hand.
“The answer may be there.”
I held out my hand.
“Give it to me.”
Jonathan hesitated.
“Now.”
He placed the drive in my palm.
It was tiny.
Smaller than my thumb.
Thirty-two years of lies apparently fit inside something I could close my fist around.
Daniel stepped forward.
“We need an isolated machine.”
Rebecca pointed toward the hallway.
“Study.”
I looked at her.
“How do you know my house?”
She met my eyes.
“I’ve been here before.”
“When?”
“Many times.”
My stomach tightened.
“While I was living here?”
“Yes.”
“Did I know?”
“No.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“To make sure you were safe.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently every liar in my life was protecting me.”
Rebecca accepted that without argument.
We entered the study.
She walked directly to a built-in bookshelf and pressed the underside of one shelf.
A hidden panel opened.
I stared.
“I didn’t know that existed.”
“Your grandmother did.”
Inside was an old laptop.
No wireless card.
No network cable.
Daniel examined it.
“This could work.”
Jonathan said, “Do not connect anything else.”
Daniel inserted the drive.
A password prompt appeared.
Three attempts remaining.
Rebecca looked at Jonathan.
“You never opened it?”
“Not completely.”
Tyler stepped closer.
“I opened one partition.”
I turned.
“You said you couldn’t decrypt all of it.”
“I couldn’t.”
“But you know a password.”
“One.”
“What is it?”
Tyler hesitated.
I stared at him.
He sighed.
“RedCoat.”
Rebecca looked at me.
My childhood coat.
Of course.
Daniel typed it.
ACCESS GRANTED.
Folders appeared.
WHITMORE.
VALE.
MORETTI.
HART.
REBECCA.
ELEANOR.
LILLIAN.
I stopped.
My mother.
Lillian Whitmore.
“Open hers.”
Jonathan immediately said, “Amelia.”
I didn’t look at him.
“Open it.”
Daniel clicked.
Videos.
Audio recordings.
Scanned documents.
One video was dated two days before my mother died.
Daniel selected it.
My mother appeared.
I gripped the desk.
She was sitting in this house.
This study.
She looked frightened.
“If you’re watching this, I didn’t make it.”
I covered my mouth.
Rebecca closed her eyes.
My mother continued.
“Charles knows we copied the archive.”
I whispered, “We?”
The recording answered.
“Rebecca has the duplicate.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Rebecca didn’t move.
“I asked her to hide it.”
My mother looked over her shoulder.
“Jonathan believes Marcus can protect us.”
Jonathan lowered his head.
“I don’t.”
Rebecca whispered, “Lillian.”
My mother continued.
“Marcus wants justice. But justice and revenge stopped being the same thing for him a long time ago.”
Vincent watched carefully.
“If something happens to me, Amelia must never inherit the archive without understanding what it is.”
The same warning.
Again.
“She must be given a choice.”
My throat tightened.
“She must never become another person who controls people through fear.”
The video flickered.
Then my mother leaned closer to the camera.
“There is one person I trust to give her that choice.”
I waited.
Rebecca did too.
My mother said:
“Samuel Moretti.”
Vincent stopped breathing.
“What?”
The video continued.
“Samuel knows where the original archive is hidden.”
Vincent moved toward the screen.
“He died before you.”
My mother’s recording continued.
“If Samuel cannot reach Amelia, his brother must.”
Vincent stared at the screen.
“Me?”
Rebecca nodded slowly.
“Lillian trusted your family.”
“Why?”
“Because Samuel was helping her.”
Vincent turned.
“You knew this?”
“I knew part of it.”
“You could have told me thirty years ago.”
“And gotten you killed?”
“That was my decision.”
“No. You were twenty-one.”
His eyes hardened.
“And now?”
“Now Marcus has forced the inheritance.”
Vincent looked toward me.
“Why invite me to the anniversary?”
I remembered.
Tyler had insisted.
My eyes moved to my husband.
Everyone else followed.
Tyler’s face changed.
“Tyler?”
He swallowed.
“I received instructions.”
“From whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“You invited Vincent because someone told you to?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought it was connected to the investment.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“You really do lie professionally.”
Tyler ignored her.
Daniel clicked another file.
An email.
Sent to Tyler.
INVITE MORETTI. BRING AMELIA TOGETHER WITH HIM. THE REST WILL HAPPEN NATURALLY.
No sender.
Vincent read it.
“You were manipulated.”
Tyler nodded.
“So was Vanessa,” I said.
She looked at me.
The invitation message.
The anniversary.
Room 317.
All of us had been placed on the same board.
Daniel leaned back.
“Marcus arranged tonight.”
Jonathan shook his head.
“Not necessarily.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“What?”
Jonathan pointed toward the email.
“That isn’t how Marcus writes.”
“You know his writing style?”
“I worked with him for years.”
“Then who sent it?”
“I don’t know.”
Daniel returned to the drive.
“There’s another partition.”
He clicked it.
Password required.
One attempt.
Only one.
A hint appeared.
THE NIGHT LILLIAN CHOSE AMELIA.
I looked at Rebecca.
She went pale.
“You know it.”
“No.”
“Yes, you do.”
She stared at the screen.
Then whispered a date.
“March ninth.”
“What happened?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“The night your mother decided to expose Charles.”
Daniel typed 0309.
The partition opened.
One folder.
MURDER.
My heart hammered.
Daniel clicked.
Inside was an audio recording.
No video.
The date was the night my mother died.
I pressed play.
My mother’s voice came first.
“You can’t keep doing this.”
A man answered.
“You don’t understand what you’re destroying.”
Charles.
My grandfather.
I knew his voice from old family videos.
My mother said, “People died.”
Charles replied, “People always die when fortunes change hands.”
Rebecca whispered, “Monster.”
Another voice entered the recording.
A woman.
“You promised nobody would get hurt.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She shook her head.
“That isn’t me.”
The recording continued.
Charles said, “Then fix it.”
My mother shouted, “Stay away from Amelia!”
There was a crash.
Footsteps.
Then the audio stopped.
Daniel examined the file.
“There’s more.”
“Play it.”
“The next section is corrupted.”
“Recover it.”
“I can try.”
He started working.
Behind us, Tyler’s phone vibrated.
He checked it.
Then immediately locked the screen.
I saw him.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Give me the phone.”
“Amelia.”
“Tyler.”
He handed it over.
One new message.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
YOU HAVE TEN MINUTES TO LEAVE HER HOUSE.
I showed Vincent.
He looked toward the windows.
“Everybody away from the glass.”
Rebecca moved first.
She closed the curtains.
Jonathan checked the front door.
Vincent called his men.
This time, the call connected.
“Get here now.”
Daniel continued typing.
“Almost.”
“Daniel.”
“I need thirty seconds.”
The lights went out.
Vanessa screamed.
The laptop stayed on.
Battery power.
Vincent drew the curtains tighter.
“Stay down.”
I crouched beside Daniel.
A progress bar moved.
81%.
89%.
94%.
A sound came from upstairs.
A floorboard.
Rebecca looked toward the ceiling.
“Someone’s in the house.”
Vincent signaled for silence.
Another sound.
Footsteps.
Directly above us.
Jonathan whispered, “There’s a second staircase.”
I stared at Rebecca.
“You said you were alone.”
“I was.”
Daniel’s screen flashed.
RECOVERY COMPLETE.
The corrupted audio resumed.
My mother was crying.
Then another voice spoke.
A woman.
Calm.
Familiar.
Painfully familiar.
I looked at Rebecca.
She looked terrified.
“That’s not me.”
The woman on the recording said:
“Lillian, give me the archive and I’ll let Amelia live.”
My mother screamed a name.
The audio cut out before we heard it.
Daniel stared at the waveform.
“There’s another file attached.”
He opened it.
A photograph appeared.
Taken the night my mother died.
Three women stood together.
My mother.
Rebecca.
And a third woman who had the same face.
I stared at Rebecca.
“You said you were twins.”
She backed away.
“We were.”
“Then who is she?”
Before Rebecca could answer, the study door slowly opened.
A woman stepped into the darkness.
She had my mother’s face too.
May you like
She looked at Rebecca and smiled.
“Tell her about me, sister.”
