Chapter 5 - The Midnight Visitor
The front door knock came at two o'clock in the morning.
It wasn't a loud, aggressive pounding, but a low, persistent double-tap against the weathered wood of the front porch.
Maya and Helen were still sitting in the living room, surrounded by old photographs and birth records, when the sound echoed through the quiet house.
Helen gasped, clutching her chest, her eyes wide with terror. “Oh God... he found us. He’s come to finish it.”
“Stay here, Gran,” Maya said, her voice unnaturally calm.
Maya stood up, picked up a heavy bronze candlestick from the side table, and walked slowly down the hallway toward the front entrance. She peeked through the small glass window beside the door.
Standing on the porch beneath the yellow, buzzing bulb was not Grant Alden. Nor was it a team of corporate thugs.
It was Claire.
Claire Alden stood alone on the porch, still wearing her white silk graduation dress, though the bottom hem was stained with dirt and harbor water. She had wrapped a dark denim jacket over her shoulders to guard against the damp night air.
Maya unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open three inches, keeping the heavy candlestick hidden behind her leg.
“How did you find this house?” Maya asked coldly.
Claire looked at Maya through the narrow gap. Her eyes were swollen, red, and rimmed with fresh tears. “The catering agency keep employee tax records. I paid the night manager five hundred dollars to open their file cabinet.”
Claire took a deep, shuddering breath, her hands trembling inside her jacket pockets.
“I left the yacht,” Claire whispered, her voice cracking. “My parents were fighting in their cabin. I’ve never heard my father shout at my mother like that. He was screaming at her about someone named Sarah.”
At the sound of her mother’s name, Maya’s hand tightened around the bronze candlestick.
“My mother was crying,” Claire continued, stepping closer to the door gap. “She told my father that if 'that girl' ruined our family, she would strip him of his board shares. Maya... please. Tell me the truth. Who was Sarah?”
Maya looked at Claire’s face. She saw the same amber eyes, the same birthmark, the same blood running through their veins. Claire was innocent of her parents’ crimes, but she was living inside a fortress built on her mother’s grave.
Maya pulled the door open all the way.
“Sarah was my mother,” Maya said, her voice dropping into a hard, unforgiving tone. “And she was your father’s first wife.”
May you like
Claire went completely still. The denim jacket slipped from her shoulders, falling onto the wooden porch floor. “What?”
“Come inside,” Maya said, stepping back into the hallway. “It’s time you learned how your father bought his empire.”
