Chapter 3 - THE VOICE IN THE WALL
My father grabbed my hand the moment the lights disappeared.
“Stay beside me.”
I could barely see him.
The west wing was completely dark.
Then we heard it again.
A child crying.
Soft.
Muffled.
Almost like the sound was coming from behind the walls.
Dad called out:
“Who's there?”
No answer.
Then three knocks.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
I squeezed his hand.
“Dad.”
“I heard it.”
The crying continued.
Vanessa stood near the doorway.
She looked terrified.
Dad noticed.
“Why are you afraid?”
“I don't know.”
“You know exactly what that sound is.”
She shook her head.
Then she ran.
Dad went after her.
He caught her in the corridor.
“Where are you going?”
“Let me go.”
“Where is the child?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why did you run?”
Vanessa screamed:
“Because I know what happens when that door opens!”
Dad froze.
“What door?”
She pointed toward the end of the hallway.
There was another door.
Smaller.
Hidden behind a tall bookshelf.
Dad pushed the shelf aside.
A narrow door appeared.
The crying was louder now.
He tried the handle.
Locked.
Vanessa whispered:
“Don't.”
Dad turned.
“You're going to tell me what's behind it.”
“No.”
He kicked the door.
Once.
Twice.
The old wood cracked.
A third kick broke the lock.
The door opened.
Behind it was a small room.
There was an old bed.
A table.
A lamp.
And dozens of children's drawings.
But no child.
Dad looked around.
“Where is she?”
I walked toward the wall.
One drawing caught my attention.
It showed three little girls.
One had dark hair.
One had blonde hair.
One had brown hair.
Above them was written:
THE THREE SISTERS.
I looked at Dad.
“Who are the other two?”
He didn't answer.
Then I saw something beneath the bed.
A photograph.
I picked it up.
It showed my mother holding a baby.
Beside her stood a teenage girl.
The girl was crying.
On the back was written:
Lillian, age fourteen.
Dad took the photograph.
His hands shook.
“She was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Where is she now?”
A voice came from behind us.
“I don't know.”
We turned.
Maria stood in the doorway.
Dad stared.
“Maria?”
She was crying.
“I knew about the room.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Your mother made me promise.”
“Promise what?”
“Never tell you until Lily was old enough.”
Dad looked at me.
“Why?”
Maria walked inside.
“Because she knew you would go looking for Lillian.”
“Of course I would.”
“And that's why she was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
Maria looked at Vanessa.
“Her.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Don't.”
Maria continued.
“Vanessa wasn't supposed to marry you.”
Dad's face hardened.
“Who was she supposed to marry?”
“Michael.”
Dad froze.
“My brother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Michael was the one who knew where Lillian was.”
Vanessa suddenly shouted:
“Stop!”
Dad turned.
“You were involved.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“From whom?”
“Your family.”
Dad stared.
“Which family?”
Vanessa said nothing.
Then Maria whispered:
“Your father.”
Dad went completely still.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why would my father hurt Lillian?”
Maria shook her head.
“He didn't want her dead.”
“Then what?”
“He wanted her controlled.”
Dad looked confused.
“Why?”
“Because Lillian was the first heir.”
The room became silent.
Dad looked at me.
“What does that mean?”
Maria explained.
My grandfather had created the Hayes family trust decades earlier.
But he had placed a condition inside it.
The first biological child of each generation would receive controlling rights.
When Lillian was born, she became the first heir.
But my grandfather didn't trust my mother.
He feared she would eventually take control.
So he ordered someone to remove Lillian.
My mother fought back.
She hid her.
Then she had me.
She used my birth to create a second layer of protection.
Dad stared.
“So Lily was never supposed to inherit?”
Maria shook her head.
“She was supposed to protect Lillian.”
I felt confused.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Maria knelt beside me.
“Your mother loved both of you.”
“Where is my sister?”
“I don't know.”
“Does Vanessa?”
Maria looked at her.
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
“I knew where she was.”
Dad stepped closer.
“Where?”
“She was sent away.”
“By whom?”
“Your father.”
Dad clenched his fists.
“My father has been dead for years.”
Vanessa whispered:
“He isn't.”
Silence.
Dad stared.
“What?”
“He faked his death.”
Maria covered her mouth.
Dad stepped backward.
“You're lying.”
Vanessa shook her head.
“I wish I were.”
Dad looked at me.
Then at Maria.
Then back at Vanessa.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
“But you said—”
“I only know where he was.”
“Where?”
Vanessa pointed toward the wall.
“Under this house.”
Dad stared.
We all looked down.
There was a faint sound beneath the floor.
Knocking.
Three times.
I knelt.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“It's coming from here.”
Dad pulled the rug away.
There was another hidden hatch.
He opened it.
Cold air rose from below.
A narrow staircase disappeared into darkness.
Dad took a flashlight.
“I'll go first.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“You stay here.”
But before he could descend, a voice came from below.
A woman's voice.
Weak.
Shaking.
“Daniel?”
Dad stopped breathing.
He knew that voice.
I had never heard it before.
But he had.
He whispered:
“Sophia?”
My mother.
Impossible.
The voice came again.
“Daniel…”
Dad stepped onto the first stair.
I followed.
The darkness swallowed us.
May you like
And somewhere beneath the mansion, the woman who had supposedly died six years earlier whispered:
“Please don't let them find me.”
