Chapter 17 - the photograph from the grave
Clara took the courier receipt, her eyes scanning the official county seal. The payment of three hundred and forty thousand dollars had indeed been posted at two-fifteen that afternoon. But stapled to the back of the receipt was an old, faded black-and-white photograph that had been enclosed in the courier envelope, addressed directly to Clara herself.
Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers began to tremble violently as she pulled the photograph closer to the ambient terrace light.
The photograph showed three people standing in front of the ornate wrought-iron gates of the Lake Forest manor, taken in the autumn of 1999. In the center stood Gregory Vance, smiling arrogantly at the camera. On his right stood a teenage Julian Sterling.
But it was the person standing on his left that caused Clara’s world to violently spin out of control.
Standing beside Gregory Vance, with her arm casually linked through his and wearing a delicate platinum diamond locket around her neck, was an elegant young woman with Clara’s exact green eyes, her exact high cheekbones, and the familiar gentle smile that Clara had mourned every single day of her life.
It was Clara’s mother. The woman who had supposedly died in a catastrophic private plane crash over the Atlantic when Clara was barely seven years old.
Beneath the photograph, written in fresh black fountain-pen ink, was a brief, devastating message:
May you like
*Julian was merely the distraction, my darling Clara. Did your father never tell you why I had to fake my death? Come to the manor tomorrow at midnight. It’s time to meet your real family.*
Clara looked up at Roman, tears of pure, paralyzing shock spilling over her eyelashes, as the antique key in her purse suddenly felt heavier than lead.
