Chapter 7 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
For several seconds, I couldn't understand what Julian had said.
"My mother?"
He nodded.
"Your mother."
I laughed.
It came out strangely.
"Julian, my mother died."
"I know."
"She died six years ago."
"I know."
"Then what are you talking about?"
Julian looked toward the doors.
"I need to get out of here."
"No."
I grabbed his arm.
"You don't get to leave."
He pulled away.
A security guard stepped closer.
Then stopped.
Because one of Julian's law partners raised his hand.
"Let him go."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
He looked at me.
"Because if Julian is telling the truth, you don't want this conversation happening in front of two hundred people."
I looked around the ballroom.
Every face was watching us.
But I no longer cared.
"My mother died six years ago."
Julian's voice was barely audible.
"The woman who died wasn't your mother."
My knees almost gave out.
"What?"
He looked at me.
"Your mother disappeared."
"No."
"Claire—"
"No."
I shook my head.
"I was there."
"You were at the funeral."
"I saw the coffin."
"You saw a closed coffin."
I stared at him.
"Why would you know this?"
He didn't answer.
Then Victoria stepped forward.
Her face was wet with tears.
"You knew?"
Julian looked at her.
"I told you never to ask about Claire's family."
Victoria stared.
"You said her mother was dead."
"I said what I needed you to believe."
Victoria slapped him.
Again.
Then she stepped backward.
"You lied to me too."
Julian looked exhausted.
"Victoria, you don't understand."
"No."
She shook her head.
"I understand perfectly."
She pointed toward Noah.
"You used her son."
Julian looked at Noah.
"I was trying to protect him."
I stepped forward.
"From what?"
He didn't answer.
"From what?"
Julian finally said:
"From your grandfather."
I froze.
"My father?"
"Yes."
"But he's dead."
Julian closed his eyes.
"That's what everyone was supposed to believe."
The room seemed to disappear around me.
My father.
Dead for six years.
My mother.
Dead for six years.
Now suddenly neither death seemed real.
I looked at Noah.
He was watching Julian carefully.
"Grandpa told me you were lying."
Julian's head snapped toward him.
"When did you see him?"
Noah said nothing.
Julian stepped closer.
"When?"
I pulled Noah behind me.
"Don't."
Julian stopped.
Then something unexpected happened.
He began to cry.
Not dramatically.
Not for attention.
Real tears.
"I didn't want this."
I stared at him.
"You chose this."
"I chose Victoria."
"Yes."
"And I made terrible decisions."
"Yes."
"But I didn't create the account."
"What account?"
"The four-point-eight million."
He wiped his face.
"Your father did."
I stared.
"Why?"
"Because he knew what was coming."
"What was coming?"
Julian looked at the lawyers.
Then at Victoria.
Then at Noah.
Finally, he looked at me.
"A lawsuit."
"Against who?"
He whispered:
"Your family."
---
Later that night, after the police had separated the guests, I sat in a private room with Noah.
Julian was being questioned.
Victoria had left with her attorney.
The law firm's partners were in another room.
I looked at Noah.
"Tell me everything."
He was quiet.
Then he reached into his pocket.
He pulled out another photograph.
This one was older.
It showed my father holding Noah when he was a baby.
I recognized the room.
Our old house.
My father was smiling.
On the back was another message.
HE NEVER STOPPED WATCHING YOU.
I looked at Noah.
"Where did you get this?"
"Grandpa gave it to me."
"When?"
"Last month."
My heart stopped.
"Where?"
Noah pointed toward the ballroom doors.
May you like
"He was there."
---
