Chapter 5

The east side of Wolfe Manor was colder than the rest of the estate. Eliana noticed it immediately. The corridor seemed untouched, like nobody had walked through it in years. Dust covered the furniture, and several paintings had been turned toward the wall.

Mrs. Brooks had mentioned that this was where Drevian's family had lived before his parents died. That alone made Eliana more curious.

She stopped in front of a pair of dark wooden doors. The key fit perfectly. For a moment, she hesitated.

Drevian had warned her. Mrs. Brooks had warned her.

Every instinct she possessed told her that whatever was behind these doors was probably something she would regret discovering.

But there was another thought that refused to leave her alone. If Isabella had been afraid of someone before she died, and someone had been watching her, then there was a reason Drevian had kept this part of the house closed.

Eliana turned the key and the lock clicked. She pushed the door open and cold air moved past her.

Inside, the rooms were covered in dust. Furniture sat beneath white sheets, and bookshelves remained exactly as they had been left. A grandfather clock stood against one wall, its hands frozen at a time that Eliana couldn't identify.

There were photographs everywhere. Family photographs, Drevian as a child, his mother, his father, Christmas gatherings, birthday celebrations and even formal events.

Eliana moved farther inside. At the end of the corridor was a study.

She entered and saw a large wooden desk stood beneath the window. Several boxes had been placed on top of it.

She opened the first. There were newspaper clippings, photographs, and police reports.

She opened the second and it was more of the same. She recognized Isabella's name.

Then the second Mrs. Wolfe, the third, and finally the fourth. Each woman had been documented separately. It didn’t look like memories, but like evidence.

Eliana pulled out Isabella's file, and at the top was a wedding photograph.

She turned the page and found that there was another photograph of Isabella taken several months before her death. She looked happy, and almost carefree. It was difficult to reconcile that woman with the terrified person Drevian had described.

Intrigued, Eliana turned another page. There was a handwritten note attached to the file.

She discovered the account.

Eliana frowned.

"What account?" She turned the page again.

The next sheet had been torn cleanly from the file. The page was missing completely.

Her curiosity sharpened so she searched through the remaining documents. Another handwritten note fell from between two pages. She caught it before it reached the floor.

Do not trust the person who says he loves you.

Eliana's stomach tightened.

She read it again. Then she looked at the photograph beneath it.

Someone had drawn a small circle around a man standing behind Isabella at what appeared to be a charity gala.

It wasn't Drevian. The man's face was partially obscured by another guest, but he was clearly positioned close enough to Isabella to have been noticed.

Eliana turned the photograph over. A date had been written on the back. She calculated quickly.

It had been taken less than a week before Isabella died. Her fingers tightened around the photograph.

Whoever had collected these files had believed the man was important.

But why? And what account had Isabella discovered?

Eliana placed the photograph beside the file and then she heard footsteps causing her to freeze.

Someone was walking down the corridor. She glanced toward the door as the footsteps grew louder.

Eliana stepped backward and moved behind the partially open door. The footsteps stopped outside.

She held her breath. The door began to open.

A hand appeared first, then a familiar watch caught the light.

Drevian.

Eliana released the breath she had been holding. He stepped into the room and his eyes moved immediately to the open files on the desk.

Then they landed on the photograph in Eliana's hand.

His expression changed.

"Where did you find that?"

"In Isabella's file." He crossed the room.

"Give it to me."

Eliana pulled it closer to herself.

"Who is he?"

"Give me the photograph."

"Does he have something to do with Isabella's death?" Drevian stopped.

"That man is dead." Eliana didn't look away.

"Who is he?" she pressed.

"Eliana."

"Who is he?" Drevian reached for the photograph.

She stepped back.

For the first time since she had met him, she saw something close to panic in his eyes. He looked at the photograph again.

Then he said quietly,

"That photograph should not exist."

"Why?"

"Because that man died twenty years ago."

Eliana stared at him.

Twenty years.

Her mind immediately went back to everything she had heard about the Wolfe family. Drevian's parents had died twenty years ago.

She looked at the photograph again, then back at him.

"Who was he?"

Drevian said nothing. His expression had become completely unreadable.

Eliana took one step closer.

"Drevian." He finally looked at her.

And for the first time since she had entered Wolfe Manor, the man who always seemed to have an answer appeared genuinely afraid of the truth.

"That was my father."