Ginger Fox Part 3
"Is this Mr. James Roy, Jon’s father?" I ask, smiling, looking toward the old lady sitting on the bed.
She squints, trying to focus on the image. Her head soon shakes rapidly in the negative.
"No, that’s Reimond with Jonathan." Charlotte widens her smile, looking affectionately at the boy. "My Roy was always a big boy for his age; he was five years old in this photo but already looked six. It was the last picture my brother took with his son."
I shift my gaze back to the portrait, feeling my fingers tremble, unable to steady the picture frame.
"Mr. Roy." I fall silent, extending my arm to return the frame to its place. "Do you have any photos of Jon’s father?"
"James? I don’t think so. He hated having his picture taken. James would simply avoid it. Baby is the only one who might have at least one photo of him."
My gaze is lost, my legs feel weak, and my mouth is as dry as my wide-open eyes staring at the floor.
"I think we can finish that bottle now." Aunt Charlotte’s cheerful voice makes me lift my head, quickly shaking it in denial.
"I... I need to go." I raise my hand, pointing toward the door. "I need to... I’m sorry, but I can’t stay."
I hear her thank me as I leave the room, but I can’t respond and merely nod in acknowledgment. My mind is consumed by every detail of that photo. The features, the quiet demeanor, everything about that boy resembles Jon.
"Never, never, under any circumstances, would Jonathan harm Jon."
I hear Baby’s voice in my head, hammering with each step I take, and I hurry down the corridors.
"He wants Jon here, on the island, with him. Jon is important to him. That’s why I know he would never do anything against that boy."
Of course, he would never do anything against Jon; the answer is there, in Baby’s words. That’s why she was so sure Mr. Roy would never harm his nephew. Because the truth is Jonathan is Jon’s father. The OCD disorder isn’t just due to some trauma Jon is experiencing; it is truly hereditary.
"Oh God!" I cover my mouth, running to my room as fast as I can, only catching my breath when my back hits the door, closing it behind me.
I look at Jon’s sleeping face, the low light casting a faint glow on him, deepening my doubts and confusion.
Why raise your own child as a nephew? Why leave him in a boarding school for so many years? What other secrets are hidden beneath the layers of secrecy that shroud this mansion?
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