Chapter 13 - The Woman in the PhotographThat night, Grace found the second photograph.
It had slipped beneath the rug near Amelia’s desk, likely dropped when Eleanor stole the folder years earlier.
Grace brought it to Alexander in the nursery.
He was sitting on the floor while Iris slept against his leg and Clara built a crooked tower of blocks beside him.
Grace held out the photo.
“I think you need to see this.”
The image showed Amelia in a hospital bed holding the newborn twins.
Beside her stood a woman Alexander did not recognize.
Young. Dark-haired. Wearing a nurse’s badge.
On the back, Amelia had written:
Mara knows the truth.
Alexander stared at the name.
“Mara?”
Grace nodded toward the badge. “Mara Ellison.”
Alexander looked up.
Ellison.
Grace’s surname.
The room changed shape around him.
“Who is she?”
Grace’s face had gone pale.
“My mother.”
Alexander stood carefully, not waking Iris.
“Your mother knew Amelia?”
Grace’s voice was barely above a whisper. “She was a maternity nurse. She died eighteen months ago.”
“Why did you not tell me?”
“Because I did not know this.” Grace touched the photograph. “My mother never mentioned Lady Amelia by name. She only told me that if I ever worked for a powerful family, I should remember that rich people do not always lie loudly. Sometimes they pay others to whisper.”
Alexander felt cold.
“What truth did your mother know?”
Grace swallowed.
“She left me a box. I never opened all of it. It hurt too much.”
“Where is it?”
“In my aunt’s flat in Brixton.”
Alexander reached for his coat.
Grace stepped back. “No.”
He stopped.
“I am not one of your staff, Mr. Whitmore. You do not get to command my grief.”
The words were sharp, but her eyes were full of pain.
Alexander nodded slowly.
“You are right.”
Grace breathed unsteadily.
Then she looked at the sleeping twins.
“But if my mother knew something about Iris…”
She closed her eyes.
“I will go.”
Alexander said, “Not alone.”
Grace almost argued.
Then the lights in the nursery flickered once.
Twice.
May you like
The baby monitor went black.
From downstairs, glass shattered.
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