Chapter 6: The Name Written Inside the Letter
I didn't open the letter until we were back in Daniel's apartment.
It was a small two-bedroom place above a pharmacy, with peeling paint in the hallway and a kitchen window that never closed properly.
But it was ours.
Nobody could order us out.
Nobody could threaten our jobs.
And nobody could take the letter from me.
Daniel locked the front door.
Then he checked the windows.
"Are you sure we're safe here?""
"No," I admitted.
"But I don't know where else to go.""
He placed Lily in her crib.
"Whatever that letter says, we're facing it together.""
I sat at the kitchen table.
The envelope rested in front of me.
My name looked almost unfamiliar in Richard's handwriting.
Emily.
A name he had written when I was still a baby.
I carefully opened the envelope.
Inside was a folded sheet of paper and a small photograph.
The photograph showed Margaret holding a newborn baby.
On the back, someone had written:
Margaret and Emily, three days after birth.
I unfolded the letter.
The first sentence made me stop breathing.
My dearest daughter,
If you are reading this, then something has happened that I have been unable to prevent.
I continued.
I need you to understand something before you hear it from anyone else. You were never unwanted. You were never an accident. And you were never the reason your family was falling apart.
I pressed a hand against my mouth.
Daniel sat beside me.
"Keep reading.""
I wiped my eyes.
Margaret gave birth to you after a relationship that I should never have allowed to happen. I loved her, but I also loved Eleanor. I was selfish enough to believe I could protect both women from the consequences of my choices.
I was wrong.
The next paragraph was written in a shakier hand.
When you were born, Margaret wanted to raise you. She wanted a quiet life, away from the Whitmore name. But I insisted that you remain close to me. I promised I would provide for both of you.
Eleanor eventually discovered the truth.
I paused.
Daniel looked toward the bedroom.
Lily had started making soft noises in her sleep.
I continued.
She was devastated. But instead of turning against you, she chose to love you. She told me that no child should suffer for the mistakes of adults.
My eyes filled.
Eleanor had known I wasn't biologically hers.
But she had loved me anyway.
Then Margaret became frightened.
She discovered that Victor had been secretly moving money from the family accounts. She confronted him. He threatened her and told her that if she revealed what she knew, he would make sure she never saw you again.
I felt my stomach tighten.
I should have protected her.
I failed.
The next lines were barely readable.
On the night you disappeared, Margaret came to me crying. She told me Victor had arranged for someone to take you away. She believed you were in immediate danger.
I told her to take you somewhere safe while I gathered evidence.
But by morning, both of you were gone.
I looked at Daniel.
"Victor took me?""
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"That's what it sounds like.""
I continued reading.
The police questioned everyone. Victor claimed Margaret had stolen you. He produced false witness statements and convinced the investigators that she had planned to disappear with you.
Then he showed me the photograph of your shoe.
I believed you were dead.
The letter trembled in my hands.
But there is one thing I never told Eleanor.
I leaned closer.
Margaret was pregnant when she disappeared.
My breath caught.
I read the sentence again.
Margaret had been pregnant?
I looked at the date of the letter.
It had been written three days before I disappeared.
The pregnancy must have been recent.
Daniel whispered, "Emily...""
I continued.
If Margaret survived, she may have given birth to another child. That child is your sibling.
I couldn't speak.
All my life, I had believed I had no family.
Now I was discovering that I might have a brother or sister somewhere in the world.
But the final paragraph was even worse.
There is another reason I am writing this letter.
The child who disappeared twenty-two years ago was not the only child in danger.
I stopped.
Daniel leaned closer.
"What does it say?""
I swallowed.
Victor has been using the family trust to conceal payments to a woman who claims to be your biological mother. I believe he knows where Margaret is. I also believe he has been keeping another child under his protection.
My fingers went numb.
Another child.
Under Victor's protection.
The letter ended with a name and an address.
*Margaret Bell.*
Then beneath it:
*St. Agnes Children's Home. Room 214.*
I looked at the date.
The address was from eleven years ago.
Daniel stood.
"That's where she was?""
"Apparently.""
He took the letter.
"Maybe the home still has records.""
I picked up my phone.
"There's something else.""
I showed him the photograph of Margaret holding me.
On the back, beside the date, was a handwritten sentence I hadn't noticed before.
If anything happens to me, find Thomas.
"Who's Thomas?"" Daniel asked.
"I don't know.""
Before either of us could search for the name, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?""
For several seconds, there was only breathing.
Then a woman's voice spoke.
"Emily?""
My entire body stiffened.
"Who is this?""
"My name is Margaret Bell.""
I couldn't move.
Daniel grabbed my hand.
The woman began crying.
"I've been waiting twenty-two years for you to find out the truth.""
I struggled to speak.
"Victor told us you were dead.""
"He told you that because he needed you to stop looking.""
"Where are you?""
A long silence followed.
Then she whispered:
"Listen carefully. Don't trust Eleanor. Don't trust Victor. And whatever you do, don't let them take Lily.""
My blood turned to ice.
"Why? What's wrong with my daughter?""
Margaret began speaking faster.
"Because Victor didn't just steal you from me, Emily. He stole something else, too.""
"What?""
A door slammed somewhere on her end of the call.
She gasped.
Then I heard a man's voice in the background.
"Who are you talking to?""
Margaret whispered one final sentence.
"The baby Victor told everyone was dead...""
The call disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
Daniel was already reaching for his keys.
But before he could move, a notification appeared on my screen.
It was a photograph.
Lily's crib.
Taken from inside our apartment.
Beneath it was a message.
*You should have left the Whitmore family buried, Emily.*
And suddenly, I understood.
May you like
The past wasn't coming back to haunt me.
It had already found my daughter.
