Page 32 of Final Vendetta

I helped her down from the car and guided her into the house. Over the next several minutes, Imogene floated from room to room, checking each space with quick, assessing glances.

“Anything missing?” I asked once she’d been through each and every room. “Even if you don’t notice anything, maybe something has been moved?”

She shook her head, her expression growing more perplexed by the second. “I can’t really remember where I left things. The last time I was here was before the accident. I’m not…” She trailed off, her gaze landing on something in her office.

“What is it?”

She crossed the room toward the bookshelf and picked up one of the black frames containing a photo I recognized of us that was taken years ago.

Before my life was turned upside down.

“I took all the photos out of these frames. They all had photos of, well…you.” Her lips curved into an apologetic smile. “Before I knew the truth, I came in here and got rid of them because I didn’t think I could move on with you — Gideon — when I was still clinging to Samuel’s ghost.”

“Did you put them back at some point?”

She vehemently shook her head. “I put them in a box and left it over there.” She pointed toward the desk before returning her attention to the bookcases. “But these… They’re all exactly where I had them before I took them down. Whoever did this has been here before.”

My mind raced as I tried to make sense of this.

Why would someone break in just to return old photos to her bookshelf? But as I studied them, I realized they weren’t old photos. Not exactly.

“I think it’s more than that,” I said, blinking repeatedly as I studied each photo.

And each one only proved my theory further.

“What do you mean?” Imogene asked.

“Take a closer look.” I gestured to a familiar photo of Imogene, Ollie, and me taken during one of our weekend getaways to Hilton Head.

But instead of seeing the man I used to be, the photo now contained me with my current appearance.

“How?” Imogene asked in a barely audible voice, her face wide in horror and disbelief. “Why?”

“To send a message,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.

This had to be Liam’s handiwork. But why go through the trouble? Why risk getting caught? It didn’t make sense.

Then Imogene inhaled a sharp breath, her eyes widening as she studied another framed photo.

“What is it?”

“This one,” she began, shaking her head before meeting my curious gaze. “This is recent.”

“Recent?” I echoed, my heart racing as I focused on the photo.

It wasn’t a picture from our past. It was taken as we walked along the beach. And not here in La Jolla, but up in Del Mar just outside our beach bungalow.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, and anger surged through my veins. This wasn’t merely about our past.

It was about our present as well.

Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I punched Henry’s contact. He picked up almost immediately.

“What did you find?” he asked.

“Liam’s been here,” I seethed, my voice trembling with anger.

“How do you know?”

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