Chapter fifteen.

CHLOE’S POV

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

The photograph lay on the table between Damian and me. It showed my mother standing outside the Rourke mansion on the night Edward Rourke was murdered.

Eleanor Summers.

My mother.

The woman who had spent years pretending that nothing in our family was worth discussing. The woman who always looked away whenever I asked about the past.

And apparently, the woman who had been connected to one of the darkest nights in the Rourke family's history.

I picked up the photograph again.

"Where did this come from?"

Damian's expression was unreadable. "The same anonymous sender who has been threatening you."

"Then how do we know it's genuine?"

"We don't."

His answer surprised me.

I looked at him. "You think it's fake?"

"I think someone wants us to believe your mother was involved in my father's murder. That doesn't make it true."

I stared at the picture.

The photograph looked old. My mother wore a dark coat, and her hair was pulled back. She stood near the mansion's front entrance, looking over her shoulder as though she knew someone was watching.

"James said she was the last person my father called," Damian continued. "But James has given us no proof. He could be telling the truth, or he could be trying to turn us against each other."

I placed the photograph down.

"Either way, I need to hear it from her."

"Chloe, if your mother was connected to what happened that night, confronting her without knowing what you're walking into could be dangerous."

"She's my mother."

"And that is exactly why this could hurt you."

I hated that he was right.

I had spent my first life allowing people to use my emotions against me. I wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"Then we'll be careful," I said.

Damian studied me for a moment before nodding.

"Together."

---

THE SUMMERS ESTATE

The atmosphere in the mansion felt different when I arrived.

Mrs. Bennett greeted me at the entrance, but even she seemed unusually nervous.

"Miss Chloe, your mother is in the sitting room."

"Is my father home?"

"No, miss. Mr. Summers left early this morning."

I nodded.

That was probably for the best.

I wasn't ready to deal with both my parents at once.

I found Eleanor sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea. She looked up when I entered, and her smile disappeared almost immediately.

"Chloe? I wasn't expecting you."

I didn't return her greeting.

Instead, I placed the photograph on the table.

Her eyes dropped to it.

The teacup slipped slightly in her hand.

"Where did you get this?"

"That's an interesting first question."

She looked at me.

"Chloe—"

"Were you at the Rourke mansion on the night Edward Rourke died?"

Silence.

My mother put down her teacup.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me."

"Watch your tone."

I almost laughed.

Even now, even with a photograph of her standing outside a mansion on the night of a murder, she was more concerned about my tone than the truth.

"James Thornton told me that Edward called you before he died. He also sent me this photograph. I want to know why you were there."

Her face became pale.

"James?"

"Yes. James. The same James you and Father once expected me to marry."

Eleanor looked away.

"That boy should learn to mind his business."

"So you know he isn't lying?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then tell me what happened."

She stood and walked toward the window.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Finally, she whispered, "I went there because Edward asked me to."

My heart tightened.

"Why?"

"He wanted to speak to me about Isabella."

I took a step forward.

"Isabella Moore?"

She nodded slowly.

"Your father had been trying to help her. Samuel had arranged for her to leave Edward because she believed she was in danger. But things became complicated."

"Complicated how?"

"Edward discovered that someone close to him was involved in the payments. Isabella had information about Victor Hale and Jonathan Pierce. She was frightened."

"And what did you have to do with it?"

Eleanor turned toward me.

"Isabella contacted me."

I stared at her.

"Why would she contact you?"

"Because she knew Samuel trusted me. She wanted someone outside the Rourke family to help her."

"Did you help her disappear?"

"No."

Her answer came too quickly.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Then what happened?"

"Edward called me that evening. He said he had received information about Isabella and needed to speak to someone who could confirm it. I went to the mansion."

"What time?"

"I don't remember."

"Mother."

"Late. It was late."

"Did you see Edward?"

She nodded.

"Was he alive when you left?"

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Yes."

The room seemed to tilt.

"You're certain?"

"Of course I'm certain! He was alive when I left."

"Did you see anyone else?"

Eleanor hesitated.

I noticed.

"Who was there?"

"I don't know."

"You just said you went there. You must have seen someone."

"There was a man in the hallway. I couldn't see his face clearly."

"Was it Victor Hale?"

"I don't know."

"Jonathan Pierce?"

"I said I don't know!"

Her voice cracked.

I stepped back.

For the first time, my mother looked genuinely frightened.

"Chloe, please. Stop asking questions."

"Why?"

"Because you don't understand what happened."

"Then explain it to me."

She shook her head.

"I cannot."

I felt anger rising inside me.

"You cannot, or you will not?"

She looked at me with an expression I couldn't understand.

"Your life was peaceful before you started involving yourself with Damian Rourke. Why can't you leave this alone?"

"Because someone murdered his father, someone kidnapped a woman who could identify the people involved, and someone is threatening my family. I have every reason to ask questions."

Eleanor grabbed my wrist.

"Listen to me carefully. If someone contacts you and claims they know what happened that night, do not follow them. Do not go anywhere alone. And whatever you do, don't trust anyone who says they are trying to protect you."

I looked down at her hand.

"Are you warning me about Victor?"

She released me.

"I'm warning you about everyone."

Before I could ask another question, her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen and immediately rejected the call.

But I had already seen the name.

Samuel.

My uncle.

The man who had disappeared after identifying Edward's suspected killer.

I looked at her.

"Samuel is alive?"

Eleanor's face drained of colour.

"Chloe, you need to leave."

"Mother—"

"Please!"

Her sudden desperation stopped me.

I picked up the photograph.

"One more question. Did you know Edward was going to die that night?"

She closed her eyes.

"No."

I searched her face, trying to decide whether I believed her.

"I hope that's true."

Then I walked out.

---

THE ROURKE MANSION

Damian was waiting in the private study when I returned.

He stood beside the window, speaking quietly on the phone. When he noticed me, he ended the call.

"How did it go?"

"My mother admitted she was at your father's mansion that night."

His expression hardened.

"What?"

"She said Edward invited her because he wanted to discuss Isabella. She claims he was alive when she left."

Damian slowly moved away from the window.

"Did she say who else was there?"

"She saw a man in the hallway, but she couldn't identify him."

"Did she mention Victor or Jonathan?"

"She refused to say."

I handed him the photograph.

"There's something else. Samuel called her while I was questioning her."

Damian looked at the photograph, then at me.

"Samuel is alive?"

"That's what I want to find out."

He reached for his phone.

"Ethan."

The call connected almost immediately.

"Sir?"

"Find Samuel Summers. I want his last known contacts, financial activity and any communication with Eleanor Summers. Quietly."

"Understood."

Damian ended the call.

I sat down, suddenly feeling the weight of the day.

My mother had known Isabella. She had visited Edward on the night he died. Samuel was apparently still in contact with her.

And James knew enough to use all of this against us.

"Chloe."

I looked up.

"Are you all right?"

"I don't know."

He came closer but didn't touch me.

"Your mother may have been involved in something dangerous. That doesn't automatically make her guilty."

"I know."

"Then don't punish yourself for not knowing the truth."

I looked at him.

"Do you ever wonder whether your father trusted the wrong people?"

"Every day."

His answer was quiet.

I remembered the black box and the note inside it.

The person you trust most is the one who opened the door.

"Damian, what if the person who betrayed your father wasn't Victor or Jonathan?"

"Then we find out who it was."

"What if it was someone in your family?"

His jaw tightened.

"I won't protect anyone who murdered my father."

For a moment, I saw the nineteen-year-old boy he had once been. A son discovering his father's lifeless body, holding a gun he hadn't fired, and carrying a secret he was too frightened to reveal.

I understood his fear more than I wanted to.

"You're not alone in this anymore," I said.

His eyes met mine.

"Neither are you."

---

THE STORAGE FACILITY

That evening, Ethan returned with information about the silver key.

"The storage facility was sold twice after Edward's death," he explained. "The original unit was registered under a company that no longer exists. However, I found an archived payment record."

Damian examined the document.

"Who paid for it?"

"An account belonging to a company called Bellmont Services."

I frowned.

"Does that name mean anything?"

Ethan shook his head.

"Not directly. But the company's registered director was a woman named Caroline Reed."

My attention snapped toward him.

"Caroline?"

"Yes. The same former secretary we met at Ashford Club."

Damian looked at the document again.

"She registered the company?"

"According to the records, yes. But the company was dissolved shortly after Edward's death."

I stood.

"Then the storage unit could contain whatever Isabella discovered."

"Possibly," Damian replied.

"Can we go there?"

"Not tonight."

I frowned.

"Why?"

"Because whoever kidnapped Caroline knows we're searching. If the unit is being watched, walking straight into it would be foolish."

I hated waiting, but he was right.

Ethan placed another document on the table.

"There is something else. The storage unit's access records show that it was opened three weeks ago."

"By whom?" Damian asked.

"The identity is hidden behind the old company account. But the payment was made from a personal account."

"Whose?"

Ethan hesitated.

"James Thornton."

My stomach tightened.

"James?"

"Yes, Miss Summers."

Damian's expression became cold.

"Are you certain?"

"I checked it twice."

I stared at the document.

James had visited the storage unit three weeks ago. He had appeared in a photograph with Victor Hale. His bracelet had been spotted at Ashford Club on the night Caroline was kidnapped.

This was no longer a coincidence.

"He's involved," I whispered.

"He's connected to something," Damian corrected. "We still don't know how far."

I took out my phone.

A message had just arrived.

UNKNOWN NUMBER:

Your mother has told you only half the story. Ask her what she took from Edward's study before she left.

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"What did she take?" Damian asked.

I showed him the message.

His eyes darkened.

"Someone was listening to your conversation."

"Or they know what happened that night."

Another message appeared.

If you want Caroline Reed alive, stop looking for the storage unit.

Damian immediately called Ethan.

"Increase security around the mansion. Nobody enters without verification. I want every communication linked to Caroline traced."

"Yes, sir."

I stared at the message.

They were trying to frighten us into abandoning the investigation.

They had made one mistake.

They assumed I would protect myself by running away.

---

THE SUMMERS ESTATE — LATER THAT NIGHT

I returned to my childhood bedroom because I needed something familiar.

My mother's words kept replaying in my mind.

Isabella contacted me.

Edward was alive when I left.

Don't trust anyone who says they are trying to protect you.

I opened the small drawer where I kept old photographs and letters.

Most were meaningless childhood memories, but one photograph caught my attention.

It showed my mother and me standing beside a woman I barely remembered. The woman wore a pale dress and had dark hair falling over her shoulders.

I turned the photograph around.

There was a handwritten date.

TEN YEARS AGO.

Beneath it were three words.

For Eleanor, always.

I stared at the handwriting.

It was familiar.

I hurried to my phone and opened the photograph of Isabella Moore that Margaret had shown us.

The handwriting on the back of that photograph was different, but I remembered the shape of the letter I.

I pulled out another old envelope from the drawer.

It was a birthday card from my mother, written years ago.

I compared the handwriting.

The woman who had written For Eleanor, always wasn't my mother.

Someone had given her that photograph.

I looked closer at the woman's face.

Could this be Isabella?

Before I could examine it further, my phone rang.

The caller ID displayed a number I didn't recognise.

I answered cautiously.

"Hello?"

A woman's trembling voice came through.

"Chloe Summers?"

"Who is this?"

"Don't tell anyone I called you."

My heart began beating faster.

"Where is Caroline Reed?"

There was a sharp intake of breath.

"She's alive."

I stood immediately.

"Who are you?"

"My name is—"

A loud noise interrupted her.

Then the woman whispered, "Your mother took something from Edward's study. Something that could prove who killed him."

"What did she take?"

"Not the key. The other thing. The thing he wanted Isabella to keep safe."

"Where is it?"

"I don't know. But James Thornton knows."

My blood ran cold.

"How do you know James?"

The woman began crying.

"Because he brought them to us."

"Who?"

Before she could answer, a man's voice shouted something in the background.

The woman whispered one final sentence.

"Chloe, don't let Damian open the door."

The call disconnected.

I stared at my phone.

A second later, a message arrived from the same number.

Find the original photograph. Your mother knows where it is.

Then another message appeared.

And Chloe... the man who killed Edward Rourke may not have been the man who pulled the trigger.

I read it twice.

The man who killed Edward might not have been the man who fired the gun.

What did that mean?

My phone rang again.

This time, it was Damian.

"Chloe, where are you?"

"At the Summers Estate."

"Listen carefully. Do not leave your room. Ethan has discovered something about the night my father died."

"What is it?"

There was a pause.

"Someone used my security clearance to enter my father's study after I was arrested."

I froze.

"You were arrested?"

"For questioning. I told you the police found me beside his body."

"Who entered the study?"

"We don't know yet. But the access record was recently recovered."

I gripped the phone.

"Damian, I just received a call from someone claiming Caroline is alive. She said my mother took something from your father's study. She also said James brought them to someone."

Silence.

Then Damian spoke.

"Chloe, did she say who?"

"No. The call ended before she could explain."

"Send me the number. Now."

I forwarded it.

"There's something else," I added. "She told me not to let you open the door."

"What door?"

"I don't know."

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then Damian's voice became dangerously quiet.

"Chloe, I need you to listen to me. Whatever happens next, don't trust any unexpected visitor. Not even someone claiming to come from me."

A chill travelled down my spine.

"Why?"

"Because someone just used my personal access code to enter the Rourke mansion."

My heart stopped.

"Who?"

"I haven't confirmed the identity yet."

Then I heard a noise outside my bedroom.

A soft knock.

Once.

Twice.

I turned toward the door.

"Damian..."

"Chloe? What's happening?"

I didn't answer immediately.

Another knock came.

Then a familiar voice spoke from the other side.

"Chloe, darling. Open the door."

My mother's voice.

I looked at my phone.

"Damian, my mother is outside."

"Don't open it."

"But—"

"Chloe, stay where you are. I'm sending security."

The handle began to turn.

Then my mother's voice came again, quieter this time.

"Chloe, please. I know who killed Edward Rourke."

My breath caught.

And then she said something that made my blood run cold.

"Your father wasn't the only person I saw in that study that night."