CHAPTER 2: The Photograph That Shouldn't Exist
Nathaniel forgot how to breathe.
The apartment around him disappeared.
The cracked wallpaper.
The tiny living room.
The smell of medicine and instant soup.
Emma humming softly as she took off her little backpack.
None of it existed anymore.
His eyes were locked on the faded photograph trembling between his fingers.
It had been taken years earlier.
Rebecca looked younger.
Her hair was longer.
She was laughing at something outside the frame.
Standing beside her...
Was Michael Grant.
Nathaniel's older brother.
The brother whose funeral he had attended.
The brother whose body had supposedly been recovered after a private helicopter crashed into the Hudson River five years ago.
The brother everyone believed was dead.
Nathaniel's voice came out barely above a whisper.
"...That's impossible."
Rebecca's face drained of every remaining trace of color.
She staggered backward until she leaned against the wall.
"Emma..."
Her voice shook.
"What exactly did you give him?"
Emma smiled innocently.
"The picture from your memory box."
Rebecca closed her eyes.
"No..."
Not the memory box.
Anything but that.
Nathaniel slowly turned the photograph over again.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
He had seen those letters a thousand times growing up.
Michael always wrote the letter "M" with a tiny hook at the bottom.
Always.
Every birthday card.
Every Christmas gift.
Every note left on Nathaniel's bedroom door.
The words were painfully familiar.
If Nathan ever finds this... tell him I'm sorry.
Nathaniel whispered,
"This is Michael's handwriting."
Rebecca looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
"I can explain."
"Then explain."
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
It frightened even him.
"You have exactly one chance."
Emma looked nervously between them.
"Did I do something bad?"
Rebecca immediately knelt beside her daughter.
"No, sweetheart."
She wrapped trembling arms around the little girl.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"But Mommy's crying."
"I know."
"I'm just scared."
Nathaniel watched the scene silently.
He had negotiated billion-dollar mergers without raising his voice.
He had remained calm during hostile board takeovers.
But nothing had prepared him for standing in the apartment of a woman he'd never met...
Holding a photograph of the brother he'd spent five years mourning.
Rebecca slowly stood.
Her fever made her sway.
Nathaniel instinctively reached forward to steady her.
She pulled away.
"I can stand."
"I wasn't implying otherwise."
"No..."
She whispered.
"You were being kind."
She looked ashamed.
"I've forgotten what that feels like."
Nathaniel glanced around the apartment.
It wasn't dirty.
Just exhausted.
Children's books were stacked neatly beside a worn couch.
A tiny folding table overflowed with ungraded homework.
Colorful crayons sat beside unpaid utility bills.
A teacher's life.
Every dollar stretched until it almost broke.
Emma wandered toward the kitchen.
"I'm hungry."
Rebecca forced a smile.
"I'll make grilled cheese."
Nathaniel opened the nearly empty refrigerator while she wasn't looking.
Milk.
Half a carton of eggs.
Mustard.
One apple.
Nothing else.
His chest tightened again.
He quietly closed the door.
Rebecca noticed anyway.
Embarrassment flooded her face.
"I haven't gone shopping yet."
"You don't owe me an explanation."
"I know how this looks."
Nathaniel answered gently,
"It looks like you've been taking care of everyone except yourself."
Her eyes watered again.
After Emma disappeared into her bedroom to color, silence settled over the apartment.
Nathaniel carefully placed the photograph on the coffee table.
"I'm listening."
Rebecca sat opposite him.
For several moments she couldn't speak.
Finally...
"I met Michael six years ago."
Nathaniel didn't interrupt.
"He volunteered at the elementary school where I worked."
Nathaniel frowned.
"My brother hated publicity."
"I didn't know who he was."
Rebecca smiled faintly.
"He never told anyone."
"He said he liked being treated normally."
That sounded exactly like Michael.
"He spent every Thursday reading books to children."
Nathaniel blinked.
"What?"
Rebecca nodded.
"The kids adored him."
"He'd do funny voices."
"He built birdhouses."
"He fixed broken playground equipment."
Nathaniel stared at her.
His brother had never mentioned any of this.
Not once.
"He volunteered for almost a year."
Rebecca continued quietly.
"Then one afternoon he stopped coming."
"I thought he'd moved."
"A week later I saw his face on the news."
Nathaniel swallowed.
The helicopter crash.
The endless headlines.
The funeral attended by senators, CEOs, celebrities.
The closed casket.
The speeches.
The tears.
Rebecca reached into the old wooden cabinet beside the couch.
She removed a weathered journal.
"I went to his memorial."
Nathaniel looked confused.
"You did?"
"I stayed in the back."
"I wasn't family."
"I wasn't anyone."
She handed him the journal.
"This belonged to Michael."
Nathaniel slowly opened it.
The first page froze him.
His brother's handwriting.
Without question.
Page after page.
Journal entries.
Sketches.
Ideas.
Volunteer schedules.
Then...
Halfway through...
Nathaniel stopped turning pages.
His heartbeat echoed in his ears.
One sentence had been circled three times.
If anything happens to me... Nathan must never trust Victor Ashford.
Nathaniel's face hardened instantly.
Victor Ashford.
His father's oldest business partner.
The man who had comforted Nathaniel after Michael's funeral.
The man who had helped him take over Grant Industries.
The man who had become his closest adviser.
Nathaniel looked up slowly.
"Where did you get this?"
Rebecca hesitated.
"Michael gave it to me."
"When?"
"The day before..."
She couldn't finish.
"The day before the crash."
Nathaniel's stomach dropped.
"You saw him the day before he died?"
Rebecca nodded.
"He seemed frightened."
"Terrified, actually."
"He told me..."
She looked toward Emma's bedroom before lowering her voice.
"...that if anyone ever asked, we had never met."
Nathaniel felt ice spread through his veins.
"What else?"
Rebecca hesitated again.
"He said people were watching him."
Nathaniel leaned forward.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"He wouldn't say."
"But he kept repeating one sentence."
"What sentence?"
Rebecca closed her eyes.
"'If I disappear... don't believe what they tell you.'"
The apartment became painfully quiet.
Outside, sirens echoed somewhere in the distance.
Nathaniel slowly stood.
Five years.
For five years...
He had believed Michael's death was a tragic accident.
But now...
The journal.
The photograph.
The warning.
None of it fit.
Someone had lied.
Someone very powerful.
Before Nathaniel could speak again...
A loud knock exploded against the apartment door.
Three heavy knocks.
Not friendly.
Not patient.
Rebecca instantly turned white.
Her breathing stopped.
Emma peeked from her bedroom.
"Mommy?"
Nathaniel noticed Rebecca wasn't looking at the door.
She was looking at the journal.
Terrified.
Almost as if...
Whoever stood outside...
Had come for it.
Then a deep male voice echoed through the apartment.
"Ms. Walsh."
"We know you're home."
Nathaniel and Rebecca exchanged one silent look.
The man outside spoke again.
"Open the door."
"This won't take long."
Rebecca whispered only four words.
May you like
"They found us first."
**— End of Chapter 2 —
