Chapter 3 - THE WOMAN ON THE BALCONY HAD HER FACE, BUT THE SECRET BEHIND THE SCREAM WAS EVEN MORE TERRIFYING
The scream came from the second floor of the Beverly Hills mansion.
It was sharp, desperate, and unmistakably human.
Claire Bennett spun toward the house.
Above the illuminated terrace, the mysterious woman who looked exactly like her suddenly disappeared behind the balcony doors.
A moment later, something crashed against the glass.
Then silence.
“SOMEBODY HELP HER!” Claire shouted.
She started running.
Jonathan Whitmore caught her arm.
“Claire, wait!”
She pulled away.
“There’s a woman up there!”
“I know, but you don’t understand what’s happening.”
Claire turned on him, her eyes blazing.
“Then explain it! Explain why my dead father is standing in front of me! Explain why you lied to me for eleven years! And explain why there’s a woman upstairs who has my face!”
Jonathan looked toward Edward Bennett.
The elderly man stood beside the Rolls-Royce, gripping his cane so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.
“Edward,” Jonathan said, “we cannot keep hiding this.”
Edward closed his eyes.
“No,” he whispered. “We can’t.”
But before he could speak, another scream echoed through the mansion.
This time, Claire didn’t hesitate.
She raced through the enormous glass doors.
Two security officers followed her.
Behind them, the guests scattered across the terrace, whispering in confusion.
Vanessa Harrington grabbed her husband’s arm.
“Charles, what is happening?”
Charles didn’t answer.
His attention was fixed on Edward Bennett.
And unlike the other guests, Charles didn’t look surprised.
He looked terrified.
Inside the mansion, Claire hurried past the grand staircase.
The crystal chandeliers above her seemed suddenly cold and threatening.
She remembered entering this same house through the servants’ entrance only hours earlier.
Back then, she had believed the greatest secret hidden behind its expensive walls was the mistreatment of employees.
Now she was beginning to understand that the mansion itself had been part of a much larger deception.
“Second floor!” she shouted.
A security officer ran ahead.
Claire followed, her wet shoes squeaking against the polished marble.
At the top of the staircase, they found a narrow corridor lined with expensive paintings.
One door stood partly open.
Beyond it came the sound of someone struggling to breathe.
Claire pushed inside.
A young woman lay beside an overturned chair.
Her dark hair spilled across the carpet.
She wore an elegant emerald evening gown.
And when she lifted her head, Claire felt as though she were looking into a mirror.
The same blue-gray eyes.
The same delicate nose.
The same small scar near the left eyebrow.
The same face.
Except this woman looked exhausted, frightened, and painfully thin.
Claire stopped.
“Oh my God.”
The stranger stared back at her.
For several seconds, neither woman moved.
Then the stranger whispered something that shattered the silence.
“Claire? Is it really you?”
Claire’s heart pounded.
“Who are you?”
The woman struggled to sit upright.
“My name is Eleanor.”
Claire stared at her.
“Eleanor who?”
Tears filled the woman’s eyes.
“Eleanor Bennett. I’m your twin sister.”
The words seemed to drain all the air from the room.
Claire took a step backward.
“No.”
Eleanor reached toward her.
“Please. I know this is impossible to believe.”
“My parents never told me I had a sister.”
“I know.”
“My mother died when I was six.”
Eleanor’s expression changed.
“That’s what they told you?”
Claire felt a cold sensation crawl down her spine.
“What do you mean?”
Eleanor looked toward the doorway.
“Close it.”
One security officer immediately stepped outside while the other secured the room.
Eleanor lowered her voice.
“Claire, we don’t have much time. Someone brought me here tonight because they knew you were coming.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know his real name. He told me he worked for our father.”
Claire stared at her.
“Our father is downstairs.”
Eleanor’s face went pale.
“Edward?”
Claire nodded.
Eleanor grabbed her wrist.
“Then you need to get him out of this house.”
“Why?”
“Because the last time I saw him, he was being held against his will.”
Claire felt her stomach twist.
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
Before Claire could ask another question, Jonathan appeared in the doorway.
He stopped when he saw Eleanor.
For the first time that evening, the billionaire seemed genuinely speechless.
“Eleanor?”
She turned.
Her expression hardened.
“You.”
Jonathan stepped forward.
“I’ve been searching for you.”
Eleanor gave a bitter laugh.
“That’s funny. Because your people were the ones who told me to stay hidden.”
Claire looked between them.
“What is going on?”
Jonathan rubbed his forehead.
“Claire, your father was involved in an investigation eleven years ago. A very dangerous investigation.”
“Into what?”
Jonathan hesitated.
Eleanor answered for him.
“A criminal network stealing money from wealthy estates and laundering it through legitimate businesses.”
Claire remembered the payroll documents Emily had given her.
The missing employee wages.
The fraudulent executive authorization.
The forty-eight-million-dollar transfer.
Suddenly, the pieces began connecting.
“Those payroll records,” she whispered.
Eleanor nodded.
“They’re only one part of it.”
Jonathan approached the window.
“Your father discovered that several senior executives were using the Bennett-Hawthorne Trust to move money through shell companies.”
Claire stared at him.
“Why didn’t he go to the police?”
“He did.”
“And?”
Jonathan looked at Eleanor.
“Someone inside the investigation warned the criminals.”
Eleanor continued.
“Two days later, there was a car explosion.”
Claire remembered that day.
She had been twenty-three.
A police officer had arrived at her apartment.
He had told her that her father had been killed in a terrible accident.
The funeral had been closed-casket because of the damage.
She had believed every word.
Now her hands began trembling.
“That wasn’t an accident.”
Jonathan shook his head.
“No.”
Claire looked toward Eleanor.
“And our mother?”
Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears.
“She disappeared years before that.”
Claire struggled to breathe.
“Where is she?”
Eleanor lowered her gaze.
“I don’t know.”
For a moment, Claire felt as though the floor were moving beneath her.
Then she remembered something.
The woman who had pushed her into the swimming pool.
Vanessa Harrington.
Her husband, Charles.
The strange look on Charles’s face when Edward appeared.
Claire turned sharply toward Jonathan.
“Does Charles Harrington have anything to do with this?”
Jonathan didn’t answer immediately.
That was enough.
“JONATHAN!”
He sighed.
“Charles’s father was one of the original investors in the trust.”
Claire stared at him.
“And Charles?”
“We’ve suspected for months that his company was being used to conceal fraudulent transactions.”
“Then why was he invited here tonight?”
Jonathan looked at her.
“Because someone wanted all the important people in one place.”
Eleanor suddenly stood.
Her face had turned white.
“Claire, listen to me.”
“What?”
“This party wasn’t organized to celebrate anything.”
Claire frowned.
“Then why?”
Eleanor looked toward the hallway.
“It was organized to identify the person who could expose the entire operation.”
Claire felt a chill.
“Who?”
Eleanor’s voice broke.
“You.”
At that exact moment, every light in the mansion went out.
The chandeliers vanished into darkness.
The music stopped.
Somewhere downstairs, a woman screamed.
Then came the unmistakable sound of the mansion’s enormous iron gates slamming shut.
Claire reached for Eleanor’s hand.
“Stay close.”
A red emergency light flickered above the doorway.
Jonathan pulled out his phone.
“No signal.”
A security officer spoke into his radio.
Nothing.
Only static.
Then a man’s voice crackled through the mansion’s speaker system.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”
Claire froze.
The voice was smooth, controlled, almost cheerful.
“Please remain calm. Nobody needs to be hurt.”
Jonathan looked up.
His expression changed.
He recognized the voice.
The speaker continued.
“Miss Bennett, I believe you’ve finally met your sister.”
Claire gripped Eleanor’s hand.
“Who are you?” she shouted.
A quiet laugh echoed through the darkened house.
“Someone who has been waiting a very long time for this family reunion.”
Then the emergency screen in the hallway flickered to life.
A video appeared.
It showed an elderly woman sitting in a wheelchair inside a dimly lit room.
Her silver-streaked hair was neatly pinned.
Her hands rested on a faded blue blanket.
Around her neck hung a silver heart-shaped necklace.
Claire stopped breathing.
The woman looked directly into the camera.
And whispered:
“Claire, sweetheart… please don’t trust the man who says he’s your father.”
The screen went black.
Eleanor began crying.
Claire turned toward Jonathan.
“What does she mean?”
Jonathan stared at the empty screen.
His face had lost all color.
Then Eleanor whispered:
May you like
“Because the man downstairs isn’t the only Edward Bennett.”
And somewhere in the darkness, a gunshot rang out.
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