Chapter 3: The Photograph
Darius didn't move.
The ballroom had become a room full of witnesses.
The man holding the photograph slowly approached.
He was dressed in a charcoal suit, his expression grim.
Camille saw him and immediately whispered:
“No.””
Darius noticed.
“You know him too?””
Camille shook her head.
The man stopped several feet away.
“My name is Marcus,” he said.
Darius stared at him.
“Why do you have that photograph?””
Marcus looked at Camille.
“Because she gave it to me.””
Camille's face tightened.
“I never gave you anything.””
Marcus gave a humorless smile.
“You did six years ago.””
Darius looked at Camille.
“Six years?””
She wiped her cheek.
“Darius, please.””
“No more ‘please.’”
His voice carried across the ballroom.
“No more half-answers.””
Marcus held out the photograph.
Darius took it.
It showed the same little girl from the first picture.
Older now.
Standing beside a man.
Darius.
His own face.
Older by perhaps ten years, but unmistakably him.
Darius's breathing stopped.
He looked at the photograph again.
“No.””
Zoe moved closer.
“That’s you.””
Darius couldn't answer.
Marcus said quietly, “That's why I came tonight.””
Darius looked up.
“Why?””
“To stop you from marrying her.””
A collective gasp moved through the guests.
Camille shook her head.
“Marcus, you promised.””
“I promised not to tell him until the truth was safe.””
“And is it?””
Marcus glanced at the locked doors.
“No.””
Something slammed against the other side.
Zoe screamed.
Darius immediately moved toward the door.
“Amara!””
A child's voice answered.
“Dad!””
Darius closed his eyes for one second.
Then he turned toward Camille.
“Who is that?””
Camille's voice broke.
“I don't know.””
Darius stared at her.
“Stop saying that.””
“I can't tell you.””
“Why?””
“Because if I do, everything changes.””
“It already changed.””
He held up the photograph.
“That's me.””
Camille's shoulders shook.
Marcus stepped forward.
“She has more.””
Camille looked at him sharply.
“Don't.””
Marcus pointed toward her purse.
“Check the lining.””
Darius looked at the purse.
Camille snatched it from the table.
“No.””
Darius blocked her.
“Give it to me.””
“Darius, don't.””
He took the purse.
Camille grabbed his arm.
He pulled away.
The purse fell.
Its contents scattered across the marble.
Lipstick.
Phone.
Compact mirror.
Keys.
Receipts.
And a small envelope.
Darius picked it up.
His name was written across the front.
*DARIUS.*
His hands went cold.
Camille whispered, “Please don't open it.””
He looked at her.
“You knew this was here?””
She said nothing.
Darius tore the envelope open.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
He read it.
His expression changed.
Marcus watched him.
“What does it say?””
Darius didn't answer.
Zoe stepped closer.
“What's wrong?””
Darius slowly lowered the paper.
“It has my signature.””
Camille covered her face.
Darius looked down at the signature again.
It was unmistakably his.
But beneath it was a date.
A date from seven years earlier.
And beneath that, one sentence:
*I AGREE TO KEEP MY DAUGHTER'S IDENTITY SECRET.*
The room erupted.
“My daughter?””
“Camille!””
“Darius, what is happening?””
Darius stared at Camille.
“You told me you couldn't have children.””
Camille broke down.
“I was trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
“From her.””
Darius turned toward the doors.
A small hand appeared beneath the gap.
Zoe stared at it.
“She's here.””
Darius crouched.
“Amara?””
The hand slowly moved closer.
A tiny voice whispered:
“Dad, don't believe her.””
Camille screamed.
“Open the door!””
Darius looked back.
Camille was crying uncontrollably.
Marcus's face had gone pale.
Zoe stood perfectly still.
Darius reached for the lock.
Then Camille suddenly shouted:
“DARIUS, WAIT!””
He stopped.
She pointed at the photograph in his hand.
“Look at the girl.””
Darius frowned.
“What about her?””
Camille's voice trembled.
“That's not Amara.””
Darius looked at the photograph.
Then toward the child behind the door.
Then back at Camille.
“What did you just say?””
Camille took one step backward.
“The girl in that picture…”
She swallowed hard.
“She died seven years ago.””
Behind the locked doors, the child's breathing suddenly stopped.
And then a completely different voice whispered from the other side:
“Camille…”
Camille froze.
May you like
The voice continued.
“You said he would never remember me.””
