Chapter 7 - Clare’s Real Name
Clare stared at the photograph for almost a full minute.
“That’s not my father.”
Dominic watched her face.
“You’re sure?”
“My father was Daniel Rowan.”
“Do you have a picture?”
Clare nodded shakily.
She unlocked her phone.
The man in her family photograph looked nothing like Michael Rowan.
Arthur stood near the fireplace.
“Maybe a relative.”
Clare shook her head.
“I’ve never heard that name.”
Dominic turned the old photograph over again.
Michael Rowan.
The name felt deliberate.
Someone had placed that photograph on Angela.
Why?
To make them ask exactly this question.
Vincent arrived from the security room.
“We ran the face.”
“And?”
“Michael Rowan was real.”
Clare went pale.
“Who was he?”
Vincent looked at Dominic before answering.
“Accountant for Vale Freight, 1996 to 1999.”
Arthur slowly stood straighter.
“I remember him.”
Dominic looked at him.
“You knew him?”
“Barely.”
“What happened?”
Arthur hesitated.
“He disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Your father said he stole money.”
“How much?”
“Almost four million.”
Clare whispered, “My family never had money.”
Vincent continued.
“Michael Rowan was declared dead in 2007.”
Clare laughed nervously.
“Then this has nothing to do with me.”
Vincent looked uncomfortable.
Dominic noticed.
“What?”
“We pulled his records.”
Vincent set a document on the table.
“Michael had a younger brother.”
Clare stared.
“Daniel.”
Her father.
Silence filled the room.
Dominic looked back at the old photograph.
Michael Rowan beside his father.
Michael Rowan beside Elias.
A missing accountant.
A stolen fortune.
A family connection Clare had never known.
Clare backed away.
“I didn’t know.”
Dominic believed her.
But he also knew secrets could move through families like disease.
“What did your father do?”
“He repaired elevators.”
“Did he ever work for us?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent checked another file.
“Yes.”
Clare looked up sharply.
“Three months.”
“When?”
Vincent looked at Dominic.
“Seven years ago.”
The year Dominic’s brother Nicholas died.
Dominic’s stomach tightened.
“My father never told me that.”
Arthur’s voice became quiet.
“What happened seven years ago?”
Dominic knew exactly what happened.
Nicholas Vale had been shot outside a South Side restaurant.
The murder was blamed on a rival crew.
Two men were convicted.
Both later died in prison.
Case closed.
Except now Daniel Rowan had worked for Vale properties during the same three-month window.
Clare shook her head.
“You’re looking at me like I’m part of this.”
Dominic answered immediately.
“I’m not.”
Arthur was less gentle.
“Someone placed you in this house.”
Clare turned toward him.
“I applied for a housekeeping job.”
“At this mansion?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“A staffing agency.”
Vincent pulled out his phone.
“What agency?”
“Lakeview Domestic.”
He searched.
Then looked at Dominic.
“No longer exists.”
Clare’s face drained.
“I’ve worked here fourteen months.”
“The company closed fifteen months ago,” Vincent said.
Dominic’s voice went cold.
“One month before Clare started.”
Clare sat down.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Dominic crouched beside Ellie, who was building shapes with her latch toy on the rug.
The child had uncovered the brace.
Then seen Rafael.
Then identified hidden doors nobody else noticed.
Coincidence was becoming increasingly difficult to believe.
Not because Ellie was involved.
Because someone might have wanted Ellie close.
Dominic looked at Clare.
“Who contacted you about the job?”
“A woman named Teresa.”
“Last name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Phone number?”
Clare found the old messages.
Vincent checked.
“Burner phone.”
Arthur exhaled.
“So Clare was planted here.”
Clare shot upright.
“I was not planted anywhere.”
Dominic raised a hand toward Arthur.
“Enough.”
“I’m telling you what the evidence says.”
“The evidence says somebody arranged her employment.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No. Intent matters.”
Clare looked at Dominic.
“My husband left when Ellie was one. I needed work. The agency offered live-out housekeeping with better pay than anywhere else.”
Dominic asked, “Why you?”
“I don’t know.”
Ellie suddenly looked up.
“Because Grandpa said.”
Clare froze.
“What?”
Ellie kept moving the wooden pieces.
“Grandpa said Mommy needed the big house.”
Nobody spoke.
Clare slowly knelt.
“Ellie, Grandpa Daniel died when you were two.”
Ellie shook her head.
“Not Grandpa Daniel.”
Clare’s face changed.
“What grandpa?”
“The other one.”
A chill moved through the room.
Clare whispered, “You don’t have another grandfather.”
Ellie looked confused.
“The man with the blue hat.”
Dominic leaned closer.
“When did you see him?”
“At the park.”
Clare stared at her daughter.
“What park?”
“The ducks.”
Clare turned toward Dominic.
“We used to go to Lincoln Park every Tuesday.”
“Did a man speak to Ellie?”
“I… I don’t know.”
Ellie nodded.
“He knew my name.”
Clare’s hand flew to her mouth.
“What did he say?”
Ellie smiled faintly, remembering.
“He said Mommy was doing good.”
Dominic asked, “Anything else?”
Ellie nodded again.
“He said soon Mr. Dominic would help us.”
Dominic’s pulse slowed.
“Help you with what?”
Ellie looked at him.
“Find Grandma.”
Clare stopped breathing.
“My mother is dead.”
Ellie shook her head.
“No.”
Clare’s voice cracked.
“Who told you that?”
“The blue-hat grandpa.”
Dominic stared at Clare.
Clare stared back.
And for the first time, he saw something beneath her fear.
Doubt.
May you like
Because Clare’s mother had supposedly died in a house fire twenty-eight years earlier.
The same year Michael Rowan disappeared.
