Chapter 3 — The Man Behind the Name
1551 Words
Elena couldn't stop thinking about the note.
SHE IS THE REASON YOU WILL FINALLY FALL.
It had been three days since the accident, but those words stayed in her mind.
She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the rain outside her apartment window.
Her shoulder was still sore.
Her doctor had told her to rest.
Her mother had told her to rest.
Mia had practically threatened her to rest.
Yet Elena had spent most of the morning doing something none of them would approve of.
Searching for Alaric Vane.
She turned her laptop toward herself.
His name filled the screen.
There were interviews.
Business articles.
Photos from charity events.
Pictures of him standing beside politicians and famous business owners.
Stories about buildings he had purchased.
Companies he had bought.
Hotels he had built.
But something bothered Elena.
There was almost nothing personal.
No childhood photos.
No school records.
No family stories.
No parents.
No siblings.
Nothing.
It was as if Alaric had simply appeared one day.
Elena frowned.
“That can't be possible.”
She clicked another article.
Alaric Vane Expands Vane Holdings With Record Investment
The article described him as one of the youngest billionaires in the country.
Elena stopped.
Youngest?
She looked at his photograph again.
He didn't look much older than thirty.
That part made sense.
What didn't make sense was another article she found.
It was nearly twenty years old.
She opened it.
The photograph showed Alaric standing outside a business opening.
Elena's eyes widened.
He looked exactly the same.
She checked the date.
Twenty-two years ago.
Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard.
She searched another year.
Then another.
The same face appeared.
Different clothes.
Different buildings.
Same man.
Same eyes.
Same calm expression.
Elena leaned back.
“No…”
She searched older records.
Thirty years.
Forty years.
Nothing.
The oldest photograph she could find was from nearly sixty years ago.
And Alaric still looked the same.
The bedroom suddenly felt colder.
Maybe the pictures had been edited.
Maybe it was someone who looked like him.
Maybe—
Her phone rang.
Elena jumped.
Mia.
She answered.
“Hello?”
“You're awake.”
“I've been awake for hours.”
“You're supposed to be resting.”
“I am resting.”
“You're using your laptop.”
Elena looked at the screen.
“How did you know?”
“Because I know you.”
Elena smiled.
Mia continued, “I'm coming over.”
“Why?”
“Because I have food.”
“That is a very strong reason.”
“I know.”
They ended the call.
Elena closed the laptop.
But before she could put it away, her eyes returned to Alaric's photograph.
There was something she hadn't noticed before.
A ring.
A black ring on his right hand.
It had a strange silver symbol carved into it.
A crescent surrounding a tiny crown.
She had seen that symbol before.
Her hand moved to her necklace.
The silver crescent around her neck suddenly felt heavier.
Her smile disappeared.
The doorbell rang.
Elena stood carefully.
“Coming!”
She opened the door.
Mia held two paper bags.
“I brought enough food to keep you alive for another week.”
“You're the best.”
“I know.”
They walked inside.
Mia placed the food on the kitchen table.
Then she looked at Elena.
“Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?”
Elena hesitated.
“I've been searching for the man who saved me.”
Mia immediately smiled.
“Ah.”
“Don't.”
“You like him.”
“I barely know him.”
“You asked if you'd see him again.”
“That doesn't mean anything.”
“It means everything.”
Elena rolled her eyes.
Mia laughed.
Then Elena's expression became serious.
“There's something strange about him.”
“What kind of strange?”
“I found pictures of him from years ago.”
“And?”
“He hasn't changed.”
Mia stared at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Look.”
Elena opened the laptop again.
She showed her the photographs.
Mia stared.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she laughed nervously.
“Okay. Maybe he has great skincare.”
“Elena.”
Mia zoomed in.
The face was unmistakable.
“That's weird.”
“Exactly.”
“Could he have a son with the same name?”
“I thought that too.”
“Maybe different men?”
“The same ring is in every photograph.”
Mia's smile disappeared.
“Okay.”
She looked at Elena.
“That is officially creepy.”
Elena laughed.
Then a knock sounded at the door.
Both women stopped.
Mia looked at the clock.
“Did you order something?”
“No.”
Another knock.
Elena walked toward the door.
Mia followed.
“Maybe don't open it.”
“I'm not scared.”
“You nearly died three days ago. You are allowed to be scared.”
Elena looked through the peephole.
No one.
She opened the door carefully.
A small black box sat on the floor.
There was no name on it.
No address.
Just Elena's name written across the top.
ELENA ROSE
Mia whispered, “Don't touch it.”
Elena looked at her.
“Now I definitely want to.”
“That's exactly why I'm worried about you.”
Elena carefully picked up the box.
It was surprisingly cold.
She carried it inside.
The box had no lock.
She opened it.
Inside was a single black envelope.
Elena pulled it out.
Her hands went still.
There was a silver crescent stamped across the front.
The same symbol as Alaric's ring.
She opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
Elena stared at it.
It showed a young woman standing beside an old stone fountain.
The woman had dark hair.
A silver crescent necklace around her neck.
And a face that looked strangely familiar.
Very familiar.
Elena's breathing stopped.
She turned the photograph over.
There were four words written on the back.
Ask Alaric about her.
Mia stepped closer.
“Who is that?”
Elena couldn't answer.
She didn't know the woman.
She had never seen her before.
At least, she thought she hadn't.
Then something happened.
A memory flashed through her mind.
A woman's voice.
Soft.
Warm.
Whispering the same words she had heard many times when she was a child.
Never take off the necklace.
Elena dropped the photograph.
Mia picked it up.
“Elena?”
“I don't know.”
“You recognize her.”
“I don't.”
But Elena knew that was a lie.
She remembered the woman.
Not clearly.
Not enough to give her a name.
But she remembered her eyes.
She remembered the silver necklace.
And she remembered being held in those arms as a little girl.
Her mother.
Except—
The woman in the photograph looked too young.
Exactly as Elena remembered her.
A sudden thought hit her.
She grabbed her phone.
She opened Alaric's contact.
She had never actually saved his number.
She searched through her recent calls.
Nothing.
Of course.
She didn't have his number.
Then her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Elena answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
“Hello?”
A man's voice finally came through.
Low.
Calm.
Familiar.
“Don't trust the photograph.”
Elena's eyes widened.
“Alaric?”
“Yes.”
“How did you get my number?”
“That's not important.”
“Then what is?”
A pause.
“You need to stop searching for your past.”
Elena stood completely still.
“Why?”
“Because some things were hidden for a reason.”
Her heart began beating faster.
“You know who that woman is.”
Silence.
“Alaric.”
“I do.”
“Then tell me.”
Another pause.
“Not over the phone.”
“Why not?”
“Because they may be listening.”
Elena looked around her apartment.
“Who?”
Alaric's voice became colder.
“The people who sent you that photograph.”
The call ended.
Elena stared at her phone.
Mia looked terrified.
“What did he say?”
Elena slowly looked at the photograph lying on the table.
“I think…”
She swallowed.
“I think the accident wasn't an accident.”
Across the city, inside a dark room high above the streets, Alaric stood before a wall filled with old photographs.
One photograph was missing.
The same photograph now sitting in Elena's apartment.
His hand closed into a fist.
A woman stepped from the shadows.
“You should have told her the truth.”
Alaric turned.
His expression was ice-cold.
“Not yet.”
“She has already started remembering.”
“I know.”
“And when she remembers everything?”
Alaric looked toward the window.
For the first time in thousands of years, something close to fear crossed his face.
“Then they will know exactly who she is.”
The woman lowered her voice.
“And who is she?”
Alaric said nothing.
But his eyes returned to the empty space on the wall.
A space that had once held a portrait of Elena's mother.
And beneath that portrait was a date written more than a century ago.
1887.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD