Chapter 11 - THE GHOST IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Grace stared at the photograph until the screen of her phone went dark.
Her father was standing beside Victor Hale.
Alive.
Not a photograph from eleven years ago.
Not an old family picture.
The timestamp was three months old.
Her hands became cold.
She unlocked the phone again.
The image remained.
Her father stood in a dark suit outside what looked like an industrial facility. Victor was beside him. Daniel stood on the other side.
And Celeste was there too.
Grace zoomed in.
Her father's face was older.
His hair was almost completely gray.
But there was no mistake.
It was him.
Richard Morgan.
The man whose funeral Grace had attended when she was twenty-six.
The man whose coffin she had watched disappear beneath the ground.
The man whose death certificate she had held in her hands.
The man who had supposedly died in a private plane crash.
Her phone vibrated.
Michael.
She answered immediately.
"Where did you get this?"
"We didn't."
Grace froze.
"What?"
"The file came from an encrypted server. We traced the message to three different locations."
"Who sent it?"
"We don't know."
"Michael, that's my father."
"I know."
"He's alive."
"I know."
Grace stood.
"No. You don't understand."
"I understand exactly what you're looking at."
She walked toward the window.
Outside, the street was empty.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I only discovered the photograph twenty minutes ago."
"Who is the person standing beside him?"
Michael was silent.
Grace zoomed in.
There was a fourth man.
Older.
Broad shoulders.
Dark coat.
A scar ran from his left ear toward his jaw.
"Who is that?"
"We're trying to identify him."
"Try faster."
"I already did."
"And?"
Michael lowered his voice.
"His name is Adrian Cross."
Grace frowned.
"Who is Adrian Cross?"
"That's the problem."
"What?"
"Officially, he doesn't exist."
Grace felt a chill move through her.
Michael continued.
"But eleven years ago, your father's plane crash was investigated by a private security company."
"Which company?"
"One owned by Victor Hale."
Grace's eyes narrowed.
"Victor investigated my father's death?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"We don't know."
"Then find out."
"I've been trying."
Grace looked toward the empty nursery.
Noah was with Daniel tonight.
For the first time, she was grateful.
He wasn't here.
He wasn't exposed to whatever this was.
"Michael."
"Yes?"
"If my father survived the crash..."
She couldn't finish.
Michael did.
"Then someone wanted everyone to believe he died."
Grace closed her eyes.
Her entire life suddenly felt like a lie.
Her father's death.
Her inheritance.
Daniel's betrayal.
Victor's scheme.
The trust.
The shell companies.
Everything.
Maybe none of it had begun with Daniel.
Maybe it had begun with her father.
A notification appeared.
Unknown number.
One sentence.
YOU WERE NEVER SUPPOSED TO FIND HIM.
Grace stared.
Another message appeared.
BUT NOW THAT YOU HAVE, HE WILL COME FOR YOU.
Her breathing stopped.
Michael heard her silence.
"What happened?"
Grace whispered.
"Someone knows I found him."
Then the lights in her house went out.
Every light.
The security system died.
The entire street remained illuminated.
Only her house was dark.
Grace reached beneath the kitchen counter.
Her fingers closed around the emergency weapon Michael had insisted she keep after Daniel's arrest.
A sound came from upstairs.
A floorboard creaked.
Grace froze.
Another creak.
Then another.
Someone was inside.
She silently moved toward the staircase.
Her phone vibrated again.
One final message appeared.
DON'T CALL THE POLICE.
Grace looked toward the stairs.
Then she heard a man's voice.
"Grace."
Her blood turned cold.
She knew that voice.
She hadn't heard it in eleven years.
Her father's voice.
"Open the door."
Grace couldn't breathe.
May you like
Richard Morgan was standing inside her house.
And he was not alone.
