Oliver sighed as he sat in front of his pacing wife. He saw Jane furrowed her brows while she paced around the living room. Oliver came back and stiffened when Jane lit the candle and crossed her arms at him.

He tried to excuse himself but ended up telling her everything. Jane didn't know how to react to his news and could only think to herself.

"Is that all he said? How can you be sure he truly seemed who he is?" Jane turned to him.

He shrugged, rubbing his nape. "I wasn't sure at first but his eyes were so intense. But I couldn't get many answers from him. He was too focused on a doll."

Jane's eyes widened. "A doll?" She rushed to her art place and gathered some of her paintings. She took out a small one she painted not so recently. It was the same painting as the picture she sent to Brook.

It was of the Quinn family and on the little girl's hand was a doll. She carried it to Oliver and handed it to him. She saw as his eyes widened and took hold of the painting.

"It's the same one, well except that it was rugged and almost falling apart but it looked exactly like that," he murmured.

Jane's eyes widened and gasped as she covered her mouth. "He has the answers! Why is he there in the first place?!" She stood up running to grab her coat but Oliver stopped her.

"He mentioned that I wasn't Vincent. Vincent must have locked him there."

"Then we should get him out to see Brook," Jane urged but Oliver's eyes widened.

"For all we know, he isn't who we think he is. The man could be lying to get out of that cell for all we know," Oliver tried but Jane huffed, crossing her arms.

"It wouldn't mean to try to talk to him more. We still need to know what happened that night...Did you see the mother?" Jane asked but Oliver shook his head.

"I mentioned the woman who passed away but nothing. We'll look for more in the morning," Oliver urged but Jane stared at the painting sadly.

"...everything has to be so complicated, why can't things be easier," she whispered as she sat down.

Oliver's eyes softened and sat down next to her, pulling her in a hug. She leaned to his touch as he kissed her head. "You know you don't have to do this. Brook seems happy in her new life. Why are you so focused on this?" he murmured out of curiosity.

Jane shook her head. "She lost so much. If that man is really telling the truth, I need to at least get any information to free her from the turmoil. I can at least do that much. Vincent will pay for this. He may have power but I have her trust...I want to talk to him."

Oliver quietly sighed and hugged her tighter. "I don't want you to get your hopes up for this."

"I know," she sighed. "You don't have to continue on this. I can handle my own."

"I know," he hummed and pulled back to smile at her. "But I will go with you."

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

The next day, Oliver headed to work to keep an eye on Vincent while Jane stayed home. She couldn't help but think about what happened last night. Is the man really Brook's father? She hasn't met the man and she's certain the man could just say anything to get out of that cell.

But on the other hand, Vincent put the man there. For what reason? The man dodged Oliver's questions and she was not sure if he will dodge her questions. Jane knew she will be seeing him sooner than later and she will know what happened.

For Brook.

For her sister.

Jane sighed as she placed her brush on her jar and stared out the window. 'How is Brook doing?' she wondered.

Jane chuckled at the last letter she received from her. She was amused to see that Brook almost believed she was pregnant and failed the test to be happy. Jane gladly sent back a little onesie to tease.

Jane truly missed her. She wondered when she will visit Oliver. Perhaps when she knows the truth and figures out a way to get Vincent to prison for his crimes, she'll gladly see her again.

Glancing back at the painting she and Oliver were staring at last night, she picked it up as it was small by the size of her palm. Her eyes softened at the picture. She will bring back the family Brook deserved.

Jane snapped out of her daze as she heard the door knock. She smiled as she placed the small painting on the table before walking to the door. Patting down her gown, she opened the door with a smile.

"How can I help yo–" Jane stiffened.

"Good afternoon, madam," Vincent removed his hat in greeting.

"Sir Vincent," Jane murmured as she clenched her knob. "What a surprise. We haven't seen each other since–"

"Miss Quinn's funeral," he nodded.

Jane frowned as she couldn't comprehend why he was here. Does he know what they're up to?

"May I have a cup of tea?" he asked as he lifted his cane lightly.

Jane's eyes widened and sheepishly smiled and moved to a side. "Oh, I apologize."

He shook his head as he entered, placing his hat on a wood rack. Jane glanced outside but no one seemed to mind what they're doing. She gulped as she hesitantly closed the door.

Jane patted down her dress and walked to the kitchen and started preparing the tea. It was quiet for a moment but the feeling of a burning stare on her back made her shakily grab the items.

She put up a smile and sat at the table. Looking up to Vincent to urge him to sit, she stiffened on the object in the man's hand.

Her painting.

"Beautiful," he murmured as he stoically stared at the picture. "Beautifully detailed."

Jane bit her lip noticeably as Vincent placed the painting back on the table and took a seat in front of her.

"My husband will not be back from the meeting," Jane started as she grabbed the herbs.

Vincent nodded, "I see. Oliver Harrison. I recalled seeing him once. How are you doing, today?" He looked at her as she smiled, distracting herself with the tea.

"I'm doing very well, thank you."

"I apologize for cutting it close, ma'am. But, I wanted to know if you have heard of the rumours going around the city," Vincent thanked her for the tea.

"Rumours?" She looked up at him.

"Yes. It's strange, actually. They're talking about a walking ghost," he icily chuckled. "About Brook Quinn, in fact."

Jane's eyes widened before getting her composure. "Brook? I haven't heard anything about her."

"Really?" he was unimpressed. "For someone being...close...to Miss Quinn, I assumed you have heard of the rumours."

"What do they speak about?" Jane took a sip of her tea.

Vincent hummed as he looked down at the picture. "A woman of red hair with a wild man in Africa. Considering the last time you went to Africa, your father stated she passed away by poison."

Jane's eyes narrowed as Vincent looked at her. "I'm not here to accuse, ma'am. I just wanted to know if you have heard of these foolish rumours...unless, of course."

His eyes chilled her as she stilled. "If they are true."

"If someone special to me is alive, would you think I would still be here?" Jane glared at him.

Vincent stared at her for a moment before chuckling and taking a sip of his tea, confusing her. "Perhaps not. I apologize for wording my words the wrong way. I was curious, that's all."

Taking out his pocket watch, he looked at the time and stood up. "I must get going. I'm sorry for the short visit, I only wanted to know how you were doing with everything going on."

"What's going on?" Jane stood up too as they walked to the door and she handed him his hat.

Vincent glanced back at her, "Well, in a few days' time, I will be taking a visit to Africa. Perhaps, I would like to know if the rumours from my workers are speaking the truth."

Jane's eyes widened and lightly gasped. Vincent placed his hat on his head and walked out of the house but not before stopping in front of her. "Of course, if the rumours are speaking the truth, we both know what will happen if I'm being lied to."

He gave her an icily glare before turning away. "Thank you, for the tea. It was delicious."

Published: December 26, 2022

Word Count: 1490