Chapter 3: The Man Who Knew Her Real Name
Naomi didn't reach for the envelope.
Richard Whitmore stood beneath the corridor chandelier, his expensive watch catching the light.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
"Philadelphia was a long time ago," Naomi said.
Richard's smile disappeared.
"Apparently not long enough.""
Naomi glanced toward the study.
"How did you learn about that?""
"Does it matter?""
"It does to me.""
Richard slipped the envelope into the pocket of his jacket.
"You have twenty minutes to collect your belongings. Security will escort you to the front gate.""
Naomi studied him.
"Is that an instruction?""
"It's a courtesy.""
"No, Mr. Whitmore. A courtesy would be telling me why you're dismissing an employee who hasn't violated her contract.""
Richard's jaw tightened.
"Be careful.""
Naomi remained perfectly still.
She had heard those words before.
Usually from men who mistook authority for strength.
"I'll collect my things," she said.
"Good.""
Richard turned away.
But before he reached the study, Naomi spoke again.
"One question.""
He stopped.
"Did Victor Sloane tell you to dismiss me?""
Richard turned so quickly that his expression betrayed him.
Only for a second.
But Naomi saw it.
And that was enough.
"Who told you that name?""
Naomi said nothing.
Richard took a step toward her.
"Who have you been speaking to?""
"Nobody.""
"Don't lie to me.""
Naomi looked directly into his eyes.
"Then don't ask questions you already know the answer to.""
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Richard walked into the study and slammed the door.
Naomi waited until the sound of the lock clicked.
Only then did she exhale.
She pulled out her phone.
*Naomi:* Richard knows about Philadelphia. Victor is here.
Margaret replied almost immediately.
*Margaret:* Get out of that house.
*Naomi:* I need to know why he's involved.
*Margaret:* Naomi, listen to me. You are not equipped to investigate this alone.
Naomi stared at the screen.
Then she typed something she hadn't said aloud in eleven months.
*Naomi:* I'm not going back to who I was.
Margaret's reply arrived.
*Margaret:* You may not have a choice.
Naomi packed quietly.
She owned very little.
Three pairs of jeans.
A collection of plain shirts.
Two dresses.
A worn leather jacket.
And the photograph of Margaret.
She placed everything into a small suitcase.
As she zipped it closed, someone knocked.
"Naomi?""
Ethan.
She opened the door.
He looked at the suitcase.
"What happened?""
"Mr. Whitmore has terminated my employment.""
Ethan stared.
"What?""
"I'm leaving tonight.""
"Why?""
"I don't think it's appropriate for me to discuss it.""
"Naomi, my father can't simply throw you out.""
"He can. It's his house.""
Ethan stepped inside.
"Did Vanessa have something to do with this?""
Naomi shook her head.
"Your father made the decision.""
"Then I'll speak to him.""
"Please don't.""
"Why do you keep asking me not to do anything?""
"Because sometimes doing nothing is the safest thing.""
Ethan frowned.
"That doesn't make sense.""
"It will someday.""
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then he noticed the photograph sticking out of her suitcase.
A younger Naomi.
Standing beside Margaret Hale in a tactical training facility.
Ethan picked it up.
"Who's this?""
Naomi took it from him.
"Someone from my past.""
"Is that a military uniform?""
"No.""
"Then what did you do before coming here?""
Naomi closed the suitcase.
"Something I don't do anymore.""
Ethan lowered his voice.
"Did you hurt someone?""
The question landed between them.
Naomi didn't answer immediately.
Then she said, "I tried to protect someone.""
Ethan watched her face.
"And?""
"Sometimes trying isn't enough.""
He looked as though he wanted to ask more.
But another voice interrupted.
"What a touching little farewell.""
Vanessa stood in the doorway.
She was wearing a fitted black dress, gold earrings, and an expression of absolute satisfaction.
"Leaving already?"" she asked.
Naomi reached for her suitcase handle.
"Good evening, Miss Sterling.""
Vanessa stepped aside.
"Don't let the door hit you.""
Ethan turned sharply.
"Vanessa, stop.""
She laughed.
"What's wrong? Are you going to miss your little midnight tea parties?""
"That's enough.""
Vanessa looked at Naomi.
"You know, I should thank you.""
Naomi paused.
"For what?""
"For making Ethan realize how ridiculous this whole engagement is.""
Ethan's face hardened.
"Vanessa.""
She ignored him.
"Although I suppose a maid was the last thing I expected him to become interested in.""
Naomi looked at her for a moment.
Then she said quietly, "You should be careful about confusing attention with affection.""
Vanessa's smile vanished.
"What did you say?""
Naomi picked up her suitcase.
"Good night.""
She walked past her.
Vanessa turned toward Ethan.
"You're letting her speak to me like that?""
Ethan didn't answer.
He was watching Naomi disappear down the staircase.
And something in his expression frightened Vanessa more than any argument could have.
At 10:17 p.m., Naomi reached the front entrance.
A security guard opened the door.
Cold November air swept into the foyer.
She stepped outside.
Then stopped.
A black sedan was parked near the fountain.
Its headlights were off.
The driver's window lowered.
A man looked out.
Victor Sloane.
He was older than she remembered, perhaps fifty-five, with a narrow face, pale eyes, and a thin scar running from his left temple toward his jaw.
"Naomi Reyes," he said.
She didn't move.
"Good evening, Victor.""
His mouth curled slightly.
"Still polite.""
"Still following people?""
He laughed.
"Get in the car.""
"No.""
"I wasn't asking.""
Naomi glanced at the security guard.
The man had one hand inside his jacket.
Not near his radio.
Near something else.
Naomi's attention shifted to the sedan's rear passenger door.
It was slightly open.
A second man was sitting inside.
She recognized the outline of a weapon beneath his coat.
Her fingers tightened around the suitcase handle.
Victor leaned toward the window.
"You should have stayed retired.""
Naomi replied evenly.
"You should have stayed out of Boston.""
His smile faded.
"Daniel Cross sends his regards.""
The name hit her like a physical blow.
Naomi's face remained still.
But something inside her went cold.
"Daniel is dead.""
"People die. Secrets don't.""
Victor opened the car door.
"Get in.""
Naomi stepped backward.
At that exact moment, another vehicle pulled into the driveway.
Ethan's car.
It stopped between the sedan and the entrance.
The driver's door opened.
"Naomi?""
Ethan stepped out.
He looked from her to Victor.
"What's going on?""
Victor's expression changed.
He quickly closed his door.
"Family business," he said.
Ethan frowned.
"I don't know you.""
"Then I'd suggest keeping it that way.""
Ethan moved closer to Naomi.
"Are you bothering my employee?""
Victor looked at him.
"Not anymore, apparently.""
He started the engine.
Before driving away, he lowered the window one final time.
"Tell Margaret Hale that the debt hasn't been settled.""
Then the sedan disappeared through the gates.
Ethan turned toward Naomi.
"Who was that?""
Naomi stared at the empty driveway.
"Someone I hoped never to see again.""
"Why did he mention Margaret?""
She picked up her suitcase.
"I need to leave.""
"Naomi, wait.""
Ethan caught her arm gently.
"Whatever is happening, you don't have to deal with it alone.""
She looked at his hand.
He released her immediately.
"I'm sorry.""
Naomi shook her head.
"You're a good person, Ethan. But there are things you don't understand.""
"Then explain them.""
"I can't.""
"Why?""
"Because the moment you know, you become part of it.""
Ethan looked frustrated.
"I am already part of it. You're standing outside my house with a suitcase, and some stranger is threatening you.""
Naomi's phone vibrated.
She looked down.
Another message from Margaret.
*Do not go to your apartment. They know where you live.*
A second message followed.
*I am coming to Boston. There is something you need to know about Daniel's death.*
Naomi's blood ran cold.
She typed quickly.
*What about it?*
The reply came almost immediately.
*He wasn't the target. You were.*
Naomi stopped breathing.
Before she could ask another question, her phone rang.
Margaret.
She answered.
"Margaret?""
Her former mentor sounded breathless.
"Naomi, listen to me. I found the original Philadelphia security report.""
Naomi looked toward the mansion.
"What's in it?""
"Your agency never told you the truth about that night.""
Naomi closed her eyes.
"Tell me.""
Margaret hesitated.
Then she said, "Daniel Cross wasn't protecting the client you were assigned to. He was protecting a witness.""
Naomi gripped the phone.
"What witness?""
"A woman who had evidence of a financial conspiracy involving several powerful families.""
Naomi's eyes shifted toward the Whitmore mansion.
"Margaret, what does that have to do with Richard Whitmore?""
Silence.
Then Margaret answered.
"Everything.""
Naomi felt the ground shift beneath her.
"Explain.""
"Richard Whitmore was the man who paid to have that evidence destroyed.""
Naomi looked up.
Through the enormous windows of Whitmore House, she could see Richard standing in his study.
He was holding a glass of whiskey.
Watching her.
And smiling.
Margaret's voice became urgent.
"Naomi, there's something else. The witness survived that night. She disappeared before the authorities arrived. We've been looking for her ever since.""
Naomi swallowed.
"Who is she?""
Margaret didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she said something that made Naomi's fingers go numb.
"Her name is Eleanor Whitmore.""
Naomi slowly turned toward the mansion.
Inside, the elderly matriarch was standing at the top of the staircase.
She wasn't looking at Richard.
She was looking directly at Naomi.
And in her hand was a photograph.
A photograph of a younger Daniel Cross.
Beside him stood Naomi.
On the back of that photograph, in handwriting Naomi recognized immediately, were five words:
*The girl must never remember.*
Margaret spoke again.
"Naomi, don't trust anyone in that house.""
But Naomi was no longer listening.
Because Eleanor had just raised one trembling hand and motioned for her to come inside.
May you like
Then the old woman mouthed three words through the glass.
*He knows everything.*
