Chapter 2: The Photograph Hidden Behind the Clock
The blue sitting room was bigger than the trailer Rosie and I had shared in Nevada.
It had pale walls, deep armchairs, a fireplace, and tall windows overlooking a rose garden. A crystal bowl sat on a table beside a vase of fresh flowers. Somewhere in the house, a grandfather clock struck four.
I sat on the edge of a velvet sofa with Rosie in my arms, afraid to touch anything.
Ruth brought a tray of food, a bowl of warm water, clean towels, and a basket filled with baby clothes.
“You don't have to finish everything at once,” she told me.
“But you need to eat.””
“I can pay you back.””
She gave me a look that reminded me so much of my mother that I had to blink hard.
“Nobody's keeping score today.””
I ate a piece of bread, then half a sandwich. I hated how quickly I swallowed, how my hands shook when I lifted the water glass. I hated that a room full of expensive furniture could make me feel poorer than an empty street.
Rosie finished her bottle and fell asleep against my chest.
For the first time in weeks, her breathing sounded peaceful.
Ruth tucked a blanket over her legs.
“Would you like me to find you a proper bed?””
“Will I still be allowed to work here tomorrow?””
Ruth paused.
“Oh, honey.””
“I don't want to get comfortable if they're going to throw us out.””
She sat beside me.
“Listen to me. Whatever happens between Mr. and Mrs.
Rowan, you and that baby aren't going back out into the cold today. I have enough years in this house to know when Mr. Rowan has made up his mind.””
“What kind of man is he?””
Ruth looked toward the closed door.
“He was a better one before he lost someone.””
“Who?””
She pressed her lips together.
“That's a question you should ask him.””
A knock interrupted us.
Victor stood in the doorway, now without his suit jacket and tie. In the bright room, he seemed less like the powerful man I'd watched on television and more like somebody who hadn't slept properly in years.
“May I come in?””
I nodded.
He approached the armchair opposite me but didn't sit until I gestured toward it.
“First,” he said, “I want you to understand that nobody here will force you to answer questions you're uncomfortable with. You can take your time. You can leave whenever you choose, provided we make arrangements for your safety.””
“I'm not leaving.””
The words surprised us both.
I looked down at Rosie.
“Not until I know why Mom sent me here.””
Victor leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“So do I.””
He took a deep breath.
“You said your mother died six weeks ago. Did she leave you any documents? Letters? Anything connected to her life before you were born?””
I thought of the blue envelope hidden at the bottom of my backpack. I'd carried it across two states without knowing exactly what was inside. Mom had instructed me never to open it unless I found the gate.
I had found the gate.
“Yes.””
“May I see it?””
I didn't move.
“Why?””
“Because I suspect your mother and I shared a history that I was never allowed to finish.””
“What does that mean?””
“It means Eleanor Cole knew me before I became Victor Rowan.””
He looked at the window.
“We were young. I was twenty-eight, and she was twenty-three. My family had money, but I didn't have much authority over my own life.
My father controlled the company, the estate, and almost every decision I made. Eleanor worked for him as a temporary assistant while she was finishing a business course in San Francisco.””
I studied him.
“Mom never told me she worked for a billionaire.””
A faint, sad smile touched his mouth.
“I wasn't a billionaire then.””
“What happened?””
“She disappeared.””
The answer was so simple that I almost laughed.
“People don't just disappear.””
“Sometimes they do. Sometimes they're forced to. Sometimes someone makes leaving seem like the only way to survive.””
“Who made her leave?””
Victor's expression hardened.
“My father, I believe. But I have never been able to prove it.””
I shifted Rosie in my arms.
“Why would your father care about my mother?””
Victor opened his mouth, then closed it again.
“Because he knew we loved each other.””
I forgot to breathe.
He continued before I could speak.
“We had plans. I was going to marry her. I thought my father would eventually accept her. But when I told him, he said Eleanor was after the family's money.
He threatened to cut me out of the business. He had people follow her. He made accusations about her that I should have challenged.””
“Did you?””
Victor lowered his eyes.
“No. Not enough.””
For the first time, I saw real shame in him.
“He told me she had accepted money to leave California. He showed me a letter with her signature. I tried to find her, but she was gone. After a while, my father insisted that I'd been foolish to believe she loved me.””
“And you believed him.””
“I believed what was easiest to believe.””
The admission hung between us.
I hated that he could say it so calmly.
“My mother raised me alone,” I said.
“She worked cleaning houses. She took night shifts at a diner. When she got sick, she worried about leaving me with medical bills. She didn't have anybody.””
Victor closed his eyes.
“I know.””
“No, you don't.””
My voice came out sharper than I'd intended.
“You don't know what it was like when I was twelve and she worked through Christmas because our electricity was going to be shut off. You don't know what it was like when I was sixteen and pretended I wasn't hungry so she could eat. You don't know what it was like to hold her hand in a hospital and watch her apologize because she couldn't tell me how to keep Rosie safe.””
He sat motionless.
“You're right,” he said.
I expected an excuse.
He gave me none.
“I don't know what you endured. But I wish I had known.””
“Wishing doesn't change anything.””
“No,” he said.
“It doesn't.””
I reached into my backpack and removed the blue envelope.
The paper was soft from years of being folded and handled. My mother's handwriting covered the front in faded black ink.
*Maya. Open only at Rowan Ridge.*
Victor stared at it as if it were a weapon.
I placed it on the table between us.
“I'm opening it because I want answers. Not because I trust you.””
“You don't owe me trust.””
I pulled out three things: a yellowed photograph, a folded letter, and a small brass key tied with a blue thread.
The photograph showed a younger Victor standing beneath a flowering tree. Beside him was my mother, laughing at something outside the frame. His hand rested lightly on her waist.
He looked at least twenty years younger. His hair was dark, his face unlined.
Mom looked radiant.
I'd never seen her smile that way.
On the back, she'd written a date: *June 18, 2007.*
Beneath it were four words.
*Before everything was taken.*
Victor touched the photograph with trembling fingers.
“That's the last photograph we took together.””
I stared at him.
“You remember?””
“I have been looking at her face in my memory for twenty years. I would recognize it anywhere.””
He turned the photograph over, then placed it carefully on the table.
“What does the letter say?””
I unfolded it.
The paper had been creased so many times that the middle nearly split apart. My mother's handwriting began with a single word.
*Maya,*
If you're reading this, I've run out of time, and I'm sorry I couldn't tell you everything while I was alive.
The man you met at Rowan Ridge is Victor Rowan. He was the man I loved before I learned how dangerous love could become when powerful people decided it belonged to them.
Your life was never meant to be a secret.
I kept you hidden because your grandfather was not the only person who wanted you gone.
I stopped reading.
My grandfather?
Victor had gone completely still.
“What does she mean?”” I asked.
He seemed unable to answer.
I forced myself to continue.
When you were three years old, someone came to our apartment in Reno. He said he represented the Rowan family. He offered money for us to leave the state and never contact Victor again. I refused.
Two nights later, our apartment was broken into. I woke to find you crying on the floor. There was blood on your little nightshirt and a cut beneath your jaw. I never learned exactly what happened, but I knew we weren't safe.
I took you away. I changed addresses. I changed jobs. I stopped using my old name.
I told you the scar came from a gate because I couldn't bear the thought that someone had tried to hurt you.
My vision blurred.
I touched the pale crescent beneath my jaw.
For as long as I could remember, Mom had told me I'd cut myself on a garden gate when I was little. Whenever I asked why I couldn't remember it, she'd say I had been too young.
I had believed her.
She had been protecting me from something I was too young to understand.
The letter continued.
Your father did not know you existed when I left.
I made that choice because I believed I was protecting you. I won't ask you to forgive me for the years that followed. I only ask that you understand I was afraid, and that every decision I made was meant to keep you alive.
If Victor sees the mark, he will know.
If he knows, find Marcus Bell.
He kept a record of what happened to me. He will know which doors are safe and which ones must remain closed.
Do not trust Vanessa Rowan.
You have fifty-three days less than you think.
If she discovers you before the date on the final page, she will do whatever it takes to make you disappear again.
The letter ended there.
I read that final paragraph twice.
Then a third time.
“Fifty-three days less than I think?”” I whispered.
Victor reached for the paper but stopped himself.
“May I?””
I passed it to him.
He read the letter without moving. As he reached Vanessa's name, his jaw tightened.
When he finished, he looked at the brass key.
“Do you know what this opens?””
“No.””
The key was old-fashioned, with an intricate bow and a number stamped into the metal.
*1207.*
Victor examined it.
“My father's private archive had a lockbox system. Twelve was the room number. Seven was a cabinet designation, I think. But I haven't seen that key in decades.””
“Where is Marcus?””
“I don't know.””
“Then we need to find him.””
“Yes.””
He stood and walked to the window, looking down at the rose garden.
“Your mother says Vanessa wanted you gone. That is a serious accusation.””
“She told me to stay away.””
Victor turned.
“She said what?””
I repeated the words Vanessa had whispered at the gate.
You should have stayed in Nevada.
For the first time, Victor looked genuinely frightened.
He crossed the room and shut the door.
“Listen carefully, Maya. Until we understand what's happening, don't tell anyone about that letter. Don't give anyone the key. And do not leave Rowan Ridge alone.””
“Why?””
“Because I no longer know whom I can trust.””
A knock sounded.
We both turned.
“Mr. Rowan?”” Ruth called from the other side.
“Your wife is asking for you. She says the bride has arrived, and the ceremony cannot begin without the family.””
Victor's face darkened.
“The bride?””
He glanced at the clock.
Then he looked at me.
“Garrison's wedding was supposed to take place tomorrow.””
“What?””
He moved to the door and opened it.
Ruth stood in the corridor, wringing her hands.
“Mrs. Rowan moved the ceremony forward this afternoon,” she explained.
“She said the weather would be better today. But there's something else.””
“What is it?””
Ruth lowered her voice.
“She asked the staff to search the east wing for a blue envelope.””
My skin turned cold.
Victor's gaze moved to the letter in his hand.
“How long ago?””
“About ten minutes. She told us to look for anything belonging to Miss Cole.””
The old house suddenly felt much less welcoming.
Victor returned the letter to me.
“Hide this.””
I pushed it inside my jacket.
“And the key?””
I closed my fingers around it.
“Keep it on you,” he said.
“But don't let anyone see it.””
“What about the wedding?””
Victor's eyes moved toward the tall windows, where guests were already gathering around the garden arch.
“The wedding will proceed.””
I stared at him.
“You can't be serious.””
“If I cancel it now, Vanessa will know the letter has frightened me. She'll understand that you know something important.””
“So what do we do?””
He looked at the photograph of himself and my mother.
“We let everyone believe nothing has changed.””
At that moment, a burst of laughter rose from the garden.
May you like
The string quartet began another song.
And I realized the people outside were preparing to celebrate a marriage while, somewhere in this enormous house, a woman was hunting for evidence that might explain why my mother had spent her entire life running.
