Chapter 9

THE PHOTOGRAPH THAT SHOULD’NT EXIST

Riona’s POV

I read the message until the words blurred, then forced myself to look away. You should have stayed quiet about what you saw.

I wanted to delete it and pretend the warning had never arrived. But Caelan had believed a story about me without asking the right questions. I would not make the same mistake with myself.

I took screenshots of the message, the profile page, and the account name. Then I saved another copy in a folder that did not contain the photograph.

Kieran’s message arrived while I was checking the account again.

Are you ready to review the photograph?

I sent the screenshots to a secure email account before answering. By the time I reached the meeting room he had arranged, I had preserved everything I could. It was a small precaution, not a plan.

Kieran stood beside a table where his security chief, Darius, had set up a laptop and monitor. Kieran noticed the phone clenched in my hand.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I received a message last night.” I unlocked my phone and placed it on the table, turning the screen toward him. “Someone warned me to stay quiet about what I saw.”

His expression barely changed, but his attention sharpened. He read the message, then looked at the account details I had saved.

“Do you recognize the sender?”

“No.”

“Have you seen the account before? Any name, photograph, or detail that connects it to someone at Wrenhold?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t recognize it, and I’m not going to invent a connection just because you want an answer.”

He looked at me briefly, then returned to the screen.

“Good,” he said. “An honest gap is more useful than a convenient guess.”

“Did you reply?” he asked.

“No. I saved it first.”

“Keep it that way until we know more.”

Darius enlarged the photograph on the monitor. The company name was visible beside documents from the evidence file. 

I had wondered whether that name proved I had been framed, but under the magnification, it looked less like an answer and more like a question someone had deliberately left in my path.

Kieran leaned closer to the screen. “The photograph doesn’t prove who poisoned Melania.”

“I know that.”

“It proves the company’s name appeared alongside material connected to the accusation against you. Those are different things.”

“I know that too.” I folded my arms. “The information may belong together, or someone may have placed unrelated documents together to make us think they do.”

“Possibilities,” he said. “Not conclusions.”

“I’m aware.”

“Then tell me exactly what happened when you took it. Start with what you personally saw. Leave out what you think it meant.”

I rebuilt the memory in order, as I would explain a property discrepancy at work. I described the inconsistent detail and the company name that caught my eye. I had photographed the page to remember its arrangement and compare it with records I had seen before. 

I kept my voice steady, although my fingers pressed hard into my palms beneath the table. I had not known the company had any connection to Kieran’s investigation.

I described what I remembered around my arrest, including the threat supposedly sent from my phone and the time recorded in the police inventory. I did not claim to know who had handled the documents or accuse Melania of arranging everything. Suspicion was not proof.

Kieran listened while Darius typed notes.

“Why did you take the photograph in the first place?” Kieran asked. “You said the company name meant nothing to you then.”

“It didn’t.” I looked at the enlarged image. “But the documents around it seemed out of place. The order was strange, and one page looked as though it had been inserted between two sections that didn’t belong together. I couldn’t explain it, so I took the picture instead of relying on memory.”

“And you didn’t report that concern?”

“I was arrested before I could do anything with it.” The memory of the accusations tightened my stomach.

Kieran seemed to notice. “I’m not accusing you.”

“You sound as if you expect me to be hiding something.”

“I expect everyone to hide something until the facts say otherwise.”

“Your expectations aren’t evidence either.”

Kieran’s face stayed composed. “Fair enough.”

He turned toward the photograph again. “You may have retained information someone wanted destroyed.”

“You don’t know that,” I replied. “The message could be an attempt to frighten me for any number of reasons. It doesn’t prove the photograph is why someone contacted me, or that the sender knows what it contains.”

“No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”

“Don’t reply to the account, contact the sender, or publish the photograph,” Kieran said. “If it contains something someone wants buried, going public now could warn them we’re looking.”

“I wasn’t planning to publish it.”

“I’m telling you anyway.”

“I can make my own decisions.”

“Yes. Waiting gives you better information. It isn’t an order to surrender your judgment.”

He wanted the photograph understood because it might help his investigation. I wanted to know whether the evidence against me had been manipulated. Our interests overlapped, but that was all I could safely call it.

Darius’s phone vibrated. He read the message, then opened a file on his laptop. His expression changed, not dramatically, but enough for Kieran to notice.

“What is it?” Kieran asked.

“I checked the company against the historical transaction records you asked me to pull.” Darius turned the laptop toward him. “The same name appears in an older transaction file connected to the scandal that destroyed your mother’s reputation.”

Kieran went very still.

I looked from Darius to Kieran, aware the photograph had led us into something older than Melania’s accusation. Kieran’s gaze fixed on the company name, his composure finally showing a crack in it.

“Bring me the complete file,” he said.

Darius nodded.

Kieran did not look away from the screen.

“Now.”