Chapter 3 - The Woman Behind the Locked Door
Police cars filled the street outside our apartment building.
An ambulance stood beneath the flickering streetlight.
I jumped from the sedan before it stopped completely.
"Sophia!" Alexander called.
I ignored him.
A uniformed officer stepped into my path.
"Ma'am, you need to stay back."
"My mother and brother live here!"
He looked at me, then toward the entrance.
"Are you Sophia Reyes?"
"Yes."
His expression changed.
"Come with me."
My knees nearly gave out.
"Are they alive?"
"They're alive."
I stopped.
The words hit me so hard I almost fell.
The officer steadied me.
"Your brother's receiving treatment for an asthma attack. Your mother's with him."
I pushed past him.
Mateo sat on the back bumper of the ambulance, an oxygen mask pressed against his face.
His shoulders rose and fell too quickly.
My mother stood beside him, gripping his hand.
Her gray hair had escaped its usual bun.
One sleeve of her sweater was torn.
"Mom!"
She turned.
For one second, she looked exactly like she had the day the hospital called about my father.
Then she opened her arms.
I ran into them.
"Oh, sweetheart."
She held me so tightly I could barely breathe.
"I'm okay," I said.
Her hands moved over my face, my shoulders, my arms.
"Are you hurt?"
"No."
"Why did they come here?"
"I don't know."
She looked over my shoulder.
And saw Alexander.
Everything changed.
Her arms dropped.
"You."
Alexander stopped several feet away.
"Elena."
My mother stepped in front of me.
"Stay away from my daughter."
"Mom, he helped—"
"I said stay away."
Alexander took the words without arguing.
"I understand how you feel."
"No, you don't."
My mother's voice rose.
"You stood in front of my husband's coffin and promised me this was over."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She closed her eyes.
Too late.
I had heard.
Alexander said quietly, "Sophia deserves the truth."
My mother laughed bitterly.
"Now you believe that?"
I looked from one to the other.
"You were at Dad's funeral?"
Alexander nodded.
"I came before the service. I spoke with your mother privately."
"You told us nobody from the incident had contacted the family."
My mother looked away.
"You were nineteen, Sophia. Mateo was eleven. I wanted to keep you safe."
"By lying to me?"
"By keeping you alive."
The force in her voice silenced me.
Then Mateo pulled off his oxygen mask.
"Soph?"
I rushed to him.
"Put it back on."
He shook his head.
"There's something you need to see."
"Later."
"No. Now."
He reached into his sweatshirt pocket and pulled out a small black object.
It looked like a key fob.
A tiny red light blinked on its side.
"The guy who broke our door dropped this."
I took it carefully.
Alexander stepped closer.
"Don't touch the button."
I froze.
"Why?"
He held out his palm.
"May I?"
I looked at Mateo.
My brother nodded.
I handed it over.
Alexander examined the object without pressing anything.
"It's a remote access token."
"For what?"
"I'm not sure."
He looked at Daniel, who had just arrived behind us.
"Bag it for the detectives."
Daniel nodded and went to speak with an officer.
My mother was watching Alexander with a terrible expression.
Not hatred.
Recognition.
Like she had been waiting six years for this exact moment.
"What did you find?" she asked him.
He looked back.
"Nothing yet."
"Don't lie to me again."
Their eyes held.
Then Alexander said something that made her face collapse.
"I found the man who betrayed Miguel."
My mother sat down abruptly on the ambulance bumper.
"No."
"I don't know his full role yet. But I know where the orders originated."
She covered her mouth.
I looked at Alexander.
"Who?"
He hesitated.
My mother answered for him.
"Victor Lane."
The name meant something.
It took me a second to understand why.
"Victoria's father?"
Alexander nodded.
Victor Lane was the public face of Lane International Holdings, a private investment company whose name appeared on luxury buildings all over Manhattan.
He was photographed with politicians, judges, and celebrities.
He had donated millions to hospitals.
And three months earlier, he had announced his daughter's engagement to Alexander Ashford at a charity gala.
I stared at Alexander.
"You're marrying the daughter of the man who killed my father?"
"No."
"You were engaged to her tonight."
"I was."
"Did you know?"
His silence lasted only a moment.
"Not until recently."
My mother stood.
"How recently?"
"Three weeks."
She shook her head.
"Three weeks."
"Elena—"
"Three weeks, and you didn't warn us?"
"I was trying to verify the evidence."
"My son nearly died tonight!"
Alexander lowered his eyes.
There was no defense he could offer.
I didn't want him to offer one.
A detective approached.
"Miss Reyes?"
I turned.
"I'm Detective Rebecca Hall. I'd like to ask you a few questions."
She was a Black woman in her early forties with tired eyes and a calm voice.
"Can you tell me whether you recognize either of the men who entered the building?"
She held out photographs on a tablet.
I studied the faces.
One was young, with close-cropped hair and a tattoo behind his ear.
The other was broad-shouldered and bald.
"I've never seen them."
Detective Hall nodded.
"Your mother identified the first man as the one who forced the door. The second stayed outside."
"Did you catch them?"
"One was detained a few blocks away. The other escaped."
My stomach tightened.
"Which one?"
"The man who entered your apartment."
"Did he say why?"
"Not yet."
Alexander moved beside me.
"Detective, I can provide the threatening photograph found at my hotel."
She looked at him without any sign of admiration.
"Mr. Ashford, we'll need a formal statement from you too."
"Of course."
"And your security footage."
"You'll have it."
"And the names of anyone who had access to the employee records."
"Yes."
She studied him for a moment.
"Good. I prefer cooperation to surprises."
Alexander gave a brief nod.
Something about her manner reassured me.
She was one of the few people I'd seen that night who didn't seem impressed by his money.
After she left, my mother touched my arm.
"We can't go upstairs tonight. The police need to process the apartment."
"Where are we supposed to go?"
Alexander answered.
"I have a secured residence in Brooklyn."
"No," my mother said immediately.
"Elena—"
"No more hidden favors. No more strangers with guns outside our doors. No more arrangements made behind my children's backs."
I looked at Mateo.
His breathing was finally slowing.
He looked exhausted.
"Mom," I said, "we need somewhere safe tonight."
Her face softened.
"I know."
Alexander spoke quietly.
"You can choose the location. I'll pay for it, but I won't interfere."
My mother looked at me.
I hated the choice.
I hated that the man connected to my father's death had the resources we needed.
But Mateo was shivering on the ambulance bumper, and somebody had just broken into our home.
"One night," I said.
Alexander nodded.
"One night."
We went to a private medical hotel near the hospital where Mateo was being evaluated.
Detective Hall arranged for police patrols nearby.
Daniel made sure our rooms were on the same floor.
My mother insisted that none of Alexander's men enter without permission.
He agreed.
At nearly three in the morning, after Mateo had fallen asleep, my mother knocked on my door.
She held an old envelope in both hands.
Its edges were yellow.
The seal had been broken years ago.
"I should have given you this when your father died," she whispered.
I took it.
Inside was a photograph.
My father stood in a narrow training room beside Arturo Santos.
A younger Alexander Ashford sat in the background, his left arm wrapped in a bandage.
On the back, in my father's handwriting, were seven words.
If anything happens, trust the second student.
I looked up.
"Mom, what does this mean?"
She swallowed.
"Your father didn't teach only you, Sophia."
A cold sensation traveled down my spine.
"He had another student."
"Who?"
My mother stared at the photograph.
May you like
Then she said a name I had heard only hours earlier.
"Victoria Lane."
