Chapter 11 - THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
The photograph was still glowing on my phone when someone knocked on my front door.
Three knocks.
Slow.
Deliberate.
I froze.
Leo and Oliver were asleep upstairs.
Nathan was supposed to arrive in twenty minutes.
I reached for the security app on my phone.
The camera showed an empty porch.
No car.
No person.
Nothing.
Then the doorbell rang.
Once.
My blood turned cold.
I picked up the handgun Rebecca had insisted I keep in the house and moved silently toward the entrance.
Another notification appeared.
UNKNOWN NUMBER: OPEN THE DOOR, GRACE.
I didn't.
The lock clicked.
Someone was trying to open it.
I stepped backward.
The door suddenly slammed inward.
A man in a black coat entered.
I raised the gun.
“Don't.”
He stopped.
Then removed his gloves.
“Nathan sent me.”
I didn't lower the weapon.
“Prove it.”
He reached slowly into his pocket.
Instead of a gun, he pulled out an old photograph.
My mother.
My father.
And a third person.
The same man from the photograph on my phone.
I stared.
“Who is he?”
The stranger looked at me.
“Your mother's husband.”
My mouth went dry.
“My mother was married before my father.”
“No.”
He paused.
“After.”
The house seemed to shrink around me.
“What happened to my father?”
The man didn't answer.
Instead, he said:
“Your father wasn't your biological father.”
A sound came from upstairs.
Oliver crying.
I turned instinctively.
When I looked back, the man was gone.
Only the photograph remained on the floor.
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On the back were four words:
TRUST NO ONE, INCLUDING NATHAN.
