Chapter 5 - The Fallen Photograph|
Adrien ignored the staring crowd. He turned toward the kitchen archway, where Rosa was still sitting on the floor, rocking a weeping Mia in her arms.
"Rosa," Adrien said gently, dropping to one knee beside them. "Are you alright? Did she touch her?"
"No, sir," Rosa stammered, wiping her tears with the back of her trembling hand. "No, you stopped her. Thank you, Mr. Hastings... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought Mia here tonight, I'll pack my things and leave immediately—"
"You're not leaving," Adrien said firmly. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Adrien reached out to gently touch Mia's back, trying to comfort the terrified toddler. As he moved, his sleeve caught the edge of Mia’s small, worn wool coat, which was draped over the side of the stool.
The coat shifted.
A small, yellowed piece of paper slipped out of the tiny coat pocket and fluttered down, landing face-up on the polished marble floor between Adrien’s knee and Rosa’s hand.
It was an old Polaroid photograph, its edges faded by time and hand-oils.
Adrien’s eyes casually drifted down to the floor to pick it up for her.
Then he stopped.
His breath caught in his throat. The blood drained from his face so quickly that Rosa thought he was going to faint.
"Mr. Hastings?" Rosa asked, startled by his sudden stillness.
Adrien didn't answer. His hand trembled violently as his fingers reached out and picked up the photograph.
The picture showed a young woman sitting on a wooden porch, smiling brightly into the camera. She had dark curls, a small birthmark just above her left eyebrow, and piercing, pale green eyes.
It was a face Adrien had spent twelve years trying to forget.
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It was Clara Hastings.
Adrien's younger sister, who had vanished twelve years ago on her eighteenth birthday—and was declared dead three years later when her car was found at the bottom of the river.
