Chapter 4: The Voice Upstairs
I had spent my entire life believing my home was the safest place in the world.
That belief disappeared the moment I heard a child’s voice calling my name from upstairs.
Not Lily.
Someone else.
My body moved before my mind could process what was happening.
I ran up the staircase.
“Lily!””
The hallway was dark despite the morning sunlight pouring through the windows. The family portraits lining the walls seemed different now. Every smiling face looked like it was hiding something.
I reached the second floor.
The guest room door was open.
Slowly, I stepped closer.
“Hello?””
No answer.
Then I heard it again.
A whisper.
“Darius…”
I pushed the door open.
Empty.
The curtains moved gently from the open window.
My heart pounded.
I searched every corner.
The closet.
The bathroom.
Under the bed.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something on the floor.
A small red thread.
The same color as the torn cloth.
I picked it up.
Behind me, Clara gasped.
“You saw her.””
I turned around.
She was standing in the doorway, pale and shaking.
“What are you talking about?””
Clara stepped inside slowly.
“The girl.””
I held up the red thread.
“Who was here?””
Clara looked around the room like she was afraid the walls were listening.
“Amara.””
The name felt impossible.
“Your daughter?””
Clara nodded.
“She’s alive.””
I stared at her.
“That doesn’t make sense.””
“It doesn’t have to make sense to be true.””
My frustration exploded.
“My daughter is missing again. My mother is hiding secrets. You show up saying a child who supposedly died twenty years ago is alive, and now you’re telling me she was standing in my house?””
Clara didn’t argue.
Instead, she walked to the old bookshelf near the window.
She ran her fingers along the wooden edge.
“There was a room here before.””
“What room?””
Her eyes met mine.
“A nursery.””
I froze.
“This has always been a guest room.””
“No.””
Her voice was certain.
“Your mother changed it.””
I looked around.
The walls were freshly painted.
The furniture was modern.
But suddenly, I noticed something strange.
A small mark carved into the floorboards.
A tiny heart.
And inside it, two initials.
A.C.
Amara Carter.
My breath caught.
“How do you know that?””
Clara’s eyes filled with sadness.
“Because I carved it there myself.””
Before I could ask another question, footsteps came from behind us.
I turned.
My mother stood at the end of the hallway.
Evelyn.
Still wearing yesterday’s black gown.
She looked exhausted.
And defeated.
“Darius.””
My voice became cold.
“How long were you going to keep lying?””
Her face changed.
“I never wanted you to know this way.””
“This way?””
I pointed toward the room.
“A child appeared in our house. Lily disappeared again. A woman from your past is telling me you stole her daughter.””
My mother looked at Clara.
The hatred between them was immediate.
“You shouldn’t have come back.””
Clara’s expression hardened.
“You should have told him the truth.””
Evelyn stepped closer.
“After everything I did to protect him?””
I laughed bitterly.
“Protect me?””
My mother looked at me.
“Yes.””
“By destroying someone else’s life?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I made one mistake.””
Clara shook her head.
“One mistake?””
Her voice cracked.
“You took my baby.””
The hallway became silent.
I looked between them.
“What happened twenty years ago?””
Neither woman answered.
Finally, my mother whispered:
“There was a fire.””
Clara looked away.
“My daughter disappeared during that fire.””
“And you thought she died?”” I asked.
My mother nodded slowly.
“I searched everywhere.””
Clara’s laugh was painful.
“No.””
She looked directly at Evelyn.
“You searched for the evidence.””
My mother flinched.
That reaction told me everything.
“What evidence?””
Evelyn didn’t answer.
I stepped forward.
“Mom.””
Her shoulders dropped.
“There was a fire at our family estate twenty years ago.””
I frowned.
“I was young. I barely remember.””
“You weren’t supposed to remember.””
The words made my blood run cold.
“What does that mean?””
My mother looked at the floor.
“Because you were there.””
The room spun.
“No.””
“Yes.””
I shook my head.
“I would remember a fire.””
“You were six years old.””
The same age as Lily.
My stomach tightened.
“What happened?””
My mother closed her eyes.
“You found Amara.””
I stared at her.
“Found her?””
“She was trapped inside.””
Clara stepped forward.
“And then Evelyn took her away.””
My mother’s voice broke.
“I thought I was saving her.””
“You hid her.””
“Yes.””
The honesty shocked me.
“Why?””
My mother looked at me.
Because the answer hurt her too.
“Because someone was trying to kill her.””
The silence that followed was unbearable.
I whispered:
“Who?””
My mother looked toward the staircase.
Toward the place where the mysterious voice had come from.
“I don’t know.””
A phone buzzed.
Everyone froze.
It wasn’t mine.
It was Clara’s.
She looked at the screen.
The color drained from her face.
“What?””
I stepped closer.
“Who is it?””
She didn’t answer.
She handed me the phone.
A message appeared.
A photo.
My daughter Lily was sitting somewhere dark.
Alive.
Crying.
And beside her was another girl.
A girl who looked exactly like her.
May you like
Under the picture was one sentence:
*You wanted the truth. Now come find both daughters.*
