Chapter 6 — The Father's Last Secret
Chapter 6 — The Father's Last Secret
The photograph slipped from my fingers.
It landed face-up on the wooden floor.
I couldn't look away.
Green eyes.
Dark hair.
The tiny scar above the left eyebrow.
I knew that face.
Not from childhood.
Not from an old family album.
From yesterday.
From the wedding.
She had been standing near the back of the ballroom beside Brenda.
A quiet young woman in a black dress.
I had noticed her because she hadn't smiled when everyone else did.
I had thought she was simply another distant relative.
I had been wrong.
She was my sister.
My father looked at me.
"Her name is Emily."
I couldn't breathe.
Derek stared at the photograph.
"No."
My mother began crying.
Derek shook his head.
"No. That's impossible."
My father didn't respond.
Derek picked up the photograph.
His hands were trembling.
"She's twenty-six."
"Yes."
"She was born before me."
"Yes."
"Mother told me she died."
"I know."
"She told me Emily died when she was six."
My father nodded.
"She lied."
Derek looked at me.
Then back at the photograph.
"Why was she at our wedding?"
Nobody answered.
That silence was worse than any explanation.
I turned toward my father.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I couldn't."
"You couldn't?"
"I was protecting you."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course."
My father flinched.
"You have no idea what happened."
"Then tell me."
He looked at the photograph.
"Not yet."
I stepped toward him.
"No."
"Chloe."
"I have spent eleven years believing you were dead."
He said nothing.
"I spent eleven years believing my mother abandoned me."
Silence.
"I spent one day believing my husband was the only person who could protect me."
Derek looked down.
"And now I find out my sister is alive."
I pointed at the photograph.
"She was at my wedding."
My voice broke.
"She was standing in the same room while Derek's mother humiliated me."
My father closed his eyes.
"I know."
"How long have you known?"
"Six months."
I stared.
"Six months?"
"Yes."
"You knew she was alive for six months."
"Yes."
"You knew she would be at my wedding?"
"No."
"Then how did she get there?"
My father didn't answer.
I looked at my mother.
She was crying.
"Mom."
She wiped her face.
"I didn't know."
"That's a lie."
She looked at me.
"I swear."
"You knew Emily was alive."
"Yes."
"You knew where she was."
"Not exactly."
"What does that mean?"
My mother looked toward the photograph.
"We knew she had been moved."
"By whom?"
She hesitated.
"Brenda."
Derek sat down.
He looked devastated.
"My mother raised her?"
"No."
My father answered this time.
"Brenda never raised Emily."
"Then who did?"
"We don't know."
Derek looked at him.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"No."
My father walked toward the wall.
"You shouldn't believe anything until you see the records."
He opened a drawer.
Pulled out another file.
He placed it on the table.
"Twenty years ago, Emily disappeared from the hospital."
I frowned.
"Disappeared?"
"She had been admitted for pneumonia."
My mother nodded.
"She was six."
"What happened?"
"Someone entered the hospital using a forged medical authorization."
"Who?"
"Brenda."
I looked at Derek.
He stared at the floor.
"She took her."
"Why?"
My father answered:
"Because she believed Emily knew something."
"She was six."
"Children notice things adults think they don't."
"What could she possibly have known?"
My father looked at me.
"She had seen her father kill someone."
The room went silent.
I felt sick.
"Whose father?"
"Thomas."
Derek looked up.
"My father?"
"Yes."
"What did Emily see?"
My father opened the file.
Inside were hospital reports.
Photographs.
A child's drawing.
A handwritten statement from a nurse.
I picked up the drawing.
It showed a house.
Three people.
A man.
A woman.
A little girl.
And a black figure lying on the floor.
Underneath, written in uneven handwriting:
Daddy made him sleep forever.
I stopped breathing.
Derek covered his mouth.
"My father killed someone."
My father nodded.
"Emily witnessed it."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
"Then why was she taken?"
"Because Thomas believed she could identify him."
I looked at the records.
"But Brenda took her."
"Yes."
"To protect Thomas?"
"No."
I looked up.
"Then why?"
My father's voice became quiet.
"To control him."
I didn't understand.
My father continued.
"Brenda discovered Thomas had been keeping money from her."
"How much?"
"Enough to start his own operation."
"So she used Emily against him."
"Yes."
"She threatened him?"
"She threatened to expose what he'd done."
I looked at Derek.
"And he let her take his daughter?"
"He believed she was already dead."
I stared.
"What?"
"Brenda told Thomas Emily had died."
Derek's face hardened.
"My father believed his daughter was dead?"
"For years."
"Then why did Brenda keep her?"
"Because Emily became useful."
"Useful for what?"
My father looked at me.
"For the same reason you became useful."
My blood ran cold.
"The archive."
He nodded.
"Emily knew where part of it was."
I frowned.
"She was six."
"She had been playing in your father's office."
"What did she see?"
"Your father had hidden a physical key inside an old music box."
I remembered.
The music box.
I had owned it as a child.
A small wooden box with a ballerina.
My mother had given it to me after my father died.
I had never understood why it mattered.
I looked at my mother.
"The music box."
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Where is it?"
My mother looked away.
"I don't know."
My father said:
"Brenda has it."
I stood abruptly.
"Then we get it back."
My father grabbed my wrist.
"No."
I pulled away.
"Why?"
"Because Brenda wants you to look for it."
"Why?"
"Because the music box is not the key."
I stared.
"Then what is it?"
He looked at me.
"The key is what Emily remembers."
I frowned.
"What does she remember?"
"The location."
"Of the archive?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't Brenda simply ask her?"
My father smiled sadly.
"Because Emily stopped speaking."
I froze.
"Why?"
"Trauma."
I looked at Derek.
He looked devastated.
"She hasn't spoken?"
"Not about that night."
"For twenty years?"
"Yes."
I felt a chill.
"Then how do you know she's alive?"
My father didn't answer.
I looked at him.
"Dad."
He sighed.
"Because she contacted me."
"When?"
"Six months ago."
"How?"
"She sent me a photograph."
"The one we saw?"
"No."
He opened another file.
Inside was a photograph of a handwritten note.
Four words.
SHE KNOWS ABOUT YOU.
I stared.
"Who is she?"
My father pointed toward the hallway.
"Brenda."
The house suddenly felt colder.
I turned toward the windows.
"Dad."
"What?"
"If Emily was at my wedding..."
"Yes."
"Then Brenda knows where she is."
"Yes."
"Why would she allow her to attend?"
My father looked at Derek.
"Because she wanted to see whether Emily would react to Chloe."
I felt a chill.
"React how?"
"Recognition."
I remembered the woman at the wedding.
The black dress.
The green eyes.
The way she had stared at me.
I remembered something else.
She had touched her eyebrow.
Right above the scar.
Then looked away.
I had thought she was nervous.
She had been recognizing me.
My sister had stood ten feet away from me.
And I hadn't known her.
Derek stood.
"I need to see her."
My father shook his head.
"Not yet."
"She's my sister."
"She may not know you."
"I don't care."
"She may be watching."
"I don't care."
"She may be working for Brenda."
Derek froze.
I looked at my father.
"Do you believe that?"
"I don't know."
"Then neither do you."
My father looked at me.
"Chloe."
"No."
I pointed toward the photograph.
"Everyone keeps deciding what I can handle."
My voice trembled.
"I'm done."
My mother walked toward me.
She touched my arm.
"I am sorry."
I looked at her.
"Are you?"
"Every day."
"Then tell me the truth."
She nodded.
"Ask."
"Why did you leave me?"
She closed her eyes.
"Because Brenda threatened to take you."
"She could have tried."
"She had judges."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"She had lawyers. Police. Doctors."
"Doctors?"
"She could have had you declared unstable."
I remembered the contract.
The clauses.
The plan.
The marriage.
Everything connected.
"She built the same trap around me that she built around you."
My mother nodded.
"Yes."
"She wanted me isolated."
"Yes."
"And married to Derek."
My mother looked at him.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Derek was the only person Brenda believed could control you."
Derek looked sick.
"She was wrong."
My mother nodded.
"She was."
I stared at him.
"And you?"
He looked at me.
"I was wrong too."
The silence lasted several seconds.
Then my father said:
"There is one thing you still don't know."
I turned.
"What?"
He walked toward the safe.
Opened it.
Removed a sealed envelope.
He handed it to me.
"This is the last letter I ever wrote before disappearing."
I looked at the envelope.
My name was written on it.
For Chloe.
I opened it.
Inside was one page.
My father's handwriting.
I read:
Chloe,
If you are reading this, then I failed to keep the truth away from you.
You will be angry with me.
You should be.
But there is one thing I need you to understand.
I did not disappear because I was afraid of Brenda.
I disappeared because I was afraid of what I would become if I stayed.
I discovered that the Vale family was not the greatest danger.
The greatest danger was inside our own family.
Someone I trusted betrayed me.
Someone who knew everything.
Someone who had access to your childhood.
Someone who helped hide Emily.
And when you finally discover who that person is, you must not forgive them simply because they say they were protecting you.
Protection without truth is another form of control.
I learned that too late.
I'm sorry.
— Dad
I lowered the letter.
My mother was crying.
Derek looked confused.
I looked at my father.
"Who?"
He didn't answer.
"Who betrayed you?"
He looked at me.
"I can't tell you."
I laughed.
"Then what was the point of the letter?"
"Because I wanted you to know there was a traitor."
"Who?"
He looked toward the door.
I followed his gaze.
Nothing.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message.
Unknown number.
YOUR FATHER IS LYING AGAIN.
Another:
THE TRAITOR IS IN THE HOUSE.
Then:
LOOK BEHIND THE PAINTING.
I walked toward the wall.
There was an old portrait hanging beside the staircase.
I lifted it.
Behind it was a small envelope.
My heart pounded.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
My mother.
Brenda.
My father.
And another woman.
The same woman from my wedding.
Emily.
But she wasn't a child.
The photograph had been taken yesterday.
At my wedding.
On the back was a handwritten message.
SHE DIDN'T COME TO WATCH THE WEDDING.
I turned it over.
The final sentence made my blood run cold.
SHE CAME TO WARN YOU.
I looked at Derek.
"Where is she?"
He didn't answer.
I looked at my father.
Nothing.
My mother began crying again.
I walked toward the front door.
"Chloe," my father said.
I stopped.
"Don't go."
"Why?"
"Because if Emily came to warn you, then Brenda already knows."
I turned.
"Knows what?"
My father looked terrified.
"That Emily remembers."
"Remembers what?"
He whispered:
"The night your father supposedly died."
I froze.
Then the lights went out again.
This time, nobody screamed.
A car engine roared outside.
I ran to the window.
Headlights disappeared down the road.
My phone vibrated.
One final message.
EMILY IS NOT THE WOMAN YOU THINK SHE IS.
Then:
ASK HER WHO SHE WORKS FOR.
I stared at the road.
My father came up behind me.
"Chloe."
I turned.
"Where can I find her?"
He hesitated.
Then gave me an address.
An old hotel on the edge of the city.
I recognized the name.
It belonged to Derek's family.
My stomach dropped.
"She's at one of your hotels."
Derek nodded.
"I'll take you."
I looked at him.
"No."
"Chloe."
"If Emily is working for Brenda, I need to meet her alone."
He stared at me.
"You don't trust me."
"Not yet."
He looked hurt.
I didn't care.
Not anymore.
I grabbed my coat.
Before I left, my father caught my hand.
"Whatever Emily tells you..."
He stopped.
"What?"
"Don't believe the first story."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"Because Emily isn't the only person who survived that night."
I stared at him.
"Who else survived?"
He looked toward the darkness outside.
Then whispered:
"Thomas Vale."
I stopped breathing.
Derek went pale.
"My father?"
My father nodded.
"He's alive."
Silence.
"And he's been waiting twenty years for his daughter to come home."
I looked at Derek.
Then at the road.
Then at the photograph of Emily.
For the first time, I understood why Brenda was afraid.
It wasn't because Emily knew the truth.
It was because Emily was the only person alive who could prove it.
May you like
And if I found her first, the entire Vale family would finally have something to fear.
The truth.
