PART 3
The call went dead.
For one second, I couldn’t hear anything except my own heartbeat.
Then I hit Gabriel’s number.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Straight to voicemail.
“Gabriel!”
I screamed his name at a dead phone as if somehow he could hear me.
Mara grabbed the dashboard.
“What happened?”
“Robert found him.”
Her face went white.
“What?”
“I heard Robert’s voice before the call disconnected.”
“Where?”
“The hospital.”
Mara shook her head immediately.
“No. That doesn’t make sense.”
“Nothing makes sense anymore!”
I threw the car into gear.
Mara grabbed my arm.
“Don’t go back.”
I jerked away.
“My brother is there.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I just spoke to him!”
“You spoke to someone claiming to be Gabriel.”
That stopped me.
I stared at her.
“What are you saying?”
“Think, Sophia.”
“I am thinking.”
“No. You’re reacting exactly the way someone wants you to react.”
“Someone?”
“Robert.”
“He didn’t make that call.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I heard him.”
“Exactly.”
Mara leaned closer.
“You heard Robert conveniently appear at the end of a call from a brother you’ve never met, minutes after receiving messages from a mother who supposedly disappeared from a hospital.”
I hated that she had a point.
But I hated something else more.
“You lied to me already.”
Mara looked away.
“So why should I believe anything you say?”
“You shouldn’t.”
Her answer surprised me.
She turned back.
“Don’t trust me, Sophia.”
“That’s comforting.”
“Don’t trust Robert either.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t trust the messages.”
“I don’t.”
“Don’t even trust what Elena wrote.”
My stomach tightened.
“She wrote that Robert isn’t my uncle.”
“That part is true.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I knew Robert before you were born.”
“Then tell me who he is.”
Mara looked through the windshield.
Rain had begun tapping softly against the glass.
“He wasn’t Elena’s brother.”
“I know.”
“He wasn’t Helena’s husband.”
“Then what was he?”
“A fixer.”
I frowned.
“For who?”
Mara hesitated.
“The people who funded Saint Helena.”
I stared at her.
“It was a children’s home.”
“That’s what the newspapers called it.”
“What was it really?”
She looked at me.
“A place where identities disappeared.”
My blood ran cold.
“What does that mean?”
“Children came in under one name and left under another.”
“Adoptions?”
“Some.”
Her voice lowered.
“Others were never officially there.”
I thought about the files.
Recovered Child.
Saint Helena Case.
“Why?”
“Money. Influence. Desperate families. Powerful families. Sometimes all four.”
“And Robert?”
“He cleaned the paperwork.”
My stomach turned.
“He changed children’s identities?”
“He made problems disappear.”
I looked at the photograph on the dashboard.
Three babies.
Isabella.
Daniel.
Gabriel.
“Was I one of those children?”
Mara didn’t answer.
“Mara.”
“Yes.”
The word barely escaped her.
I felt sick.
“Who wanted me?”
“That is what Helena discovered.”
“My biological mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why was she working there?”
“She wasn’t.”
“Then how did she know?”
“Because she came looking for you.”
My fingers went numb.
“Looking for me?”
Mara nodded.
“You had been taken from her.”
The rain became heavier.
I stared at her.
“By whom?”
“That answer is inside the deposit box.”
“No more riddles.”
“I don’t know the name.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I know what happened inside Saint Helena. I don’t know who ordered everything.”
“And Elena?”
“She was a nurse there.”
The woman I had called Mom for twenty-four years suddenly became a stranger again.
“She worked there?”
Mara nodded.
“She helped Helena.”
“Why?”
“Because Elena had spent years looking away.”
Mara’s eyes dropped.
“So had I.”
Silence filled the car.
“Until?”
“Until you arrived.”
Something about the way she said it made me uncomfortable.
“What was different about me?”
Mara swallowed.
“You weren’t supposed to survive.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“There were instructions attached to your intake file.”
“What instructions?”
Mara looked at me.
Her voice cracked.
“Do not place.”
I didn’t understand.
“Meaning?”
“Don’t adopt you.”
“Why?”
“Because someone was coming back for you.”
“Who?”
“I never found out.”
“Then what happened?”
“Helena came first.”
My biological mother.
“She found Saint Helena?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She followed Robert.”
I stared at her.
“Robert took me?”
“We believed so.”
“Believed?”
“We never proved it.”
“And Helena confronted him?”
“Not immediately.”
Mara looked down at her hands.
“She was smarter than that.”
“What did she do?”
“She spent six weeks gathering evidence.”
“The deposit box.”
Mara nodded.
“Helena knew she’d disappear if she confronted the wrong person without insurance.”
“Then why did Saint Helena burn?”
“Because someone discovered what she was doing.”
“Robert?”
“I thought so for twenty years.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m not sure.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because Robert had a chance to destroy everything that night.”
“But?”
“He didn’t.”
“What did he do?”
Mara looked directly at me.
“He helped Elena get you out.”
I couldn’t process the words.
“No.”
“I saw him.”
“You said Elena took me from Robert.”
“I said that’s what Elena believed.”
“You’re changing your story again.”
“Because I spent twenty years believing the same version Elena did.”
“Then what changed?”
“Three months ago, Robert found me.”
My hand tightened around the steering wheel.
“What?”
“He asked me one question.”
“What question?”
Mara’s eyes moved to the photograph.
“Did Gabriel survive?”
A chill went through me.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I didn’t know.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why was Robert looking for him?”
“He said Gabriel was the only person who could prove Robert hadn’t ordered the fire.”
I laughed bitterly.
“A baby could prove that?”
“Not the baby.”
Mara pointed toward the photograph.
“The medallion.”
I touched mine.
“The other half.”
“Yes.”
“What is inside Gabriel’s?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked toward the highway.
Philadelphia was less than two hours away.
The hospital was twenty minutes behind us.
My brother might be there.
Or it might be a trap.
Then my phone buzzed.
Julia.
I answered.
“Sophia, where are you?”
“Driving.”
“Pull over.”
“Why?”
“Because I found something.”
“What?”
“The hospital security footage.”
I glanced at Mara.
“How?”
“My cousin works hospital security. I told him someone might be impersonating a family member.”
“Julia—”
“Listen to me.”
Her voice trembled.
“Your mother didn’t disappear.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“I have footage of her being moved.”
“Moved where?”
“That’s the problem.”
“What problem?”
“She wasn’t moved by hospital staff.”
I pulled onto the shoulder.
Cars hissed past us through the rain.
“Explain.”
“At 6:12 p.m., two people wearing medical uniforms entered her room.”
“Okay.”
“At 6:19, they rolled a patient out.”
My stomach tightened.
“Was it Mom?”
“I can’t see her face.”
“Where did they take her?”
“Service elevator.”
“Then?”
“Loading dock.”
I stopped breathing.
“They took her out of the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“Did security stop them?”
“No.”
“They had badges.”
“Where did they go?”
“A white medical transport van.”
My hands began shaking.
“License plate?”
“Covered.”
Mara cursed under her breath.
I looked at her.
“You know something.”
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“Because I’ve seen that before.”
“Where?”
“Saint Helena.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“The transport vans.”
“That was twenty years ago.”
“Same method.”
I put Julia on speaker.
“Julia, did anyone replace her?”
“Yes.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“At 6:43, another patient was brought into your mother’s room.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“The woman Gabriel mentioned.”
“Probably.”
“Can you see her face?”
“No.”
“But here’s the strange part.”
“What?”
“The second patient came from the restricted wing.”
Mara turned sharply.
“What restricted wing?”
Julia continued.
“The hospital has a private neurological unit on the eleventh floor.”
“Who was the patient?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.”
“Can you access the records?”
“No.”
Then she paused.
“But I found the name on the transport log.”
My entire body went still.
“What name?”
“Helena Ward.”
I couldn’t speak.
Mara whispered:
“No.”
Julia continued.
“The patient transferred into your mother’s room was registered as Helena Ward.”
My biological mother.
The woman declared dead twenty years ago.
I felt the world tilt.
“Julia, Helena Ward is dead.”
“Apparently someone forgot to tell the hospital.”
Mara covered her mouth.
“She survived.”
I turned toward her.
“You knew that was possible?”
“No.”
“You’re lying.”
“I watched them carry her out after the fire.”
“Dead?”
“I thought she was.”
“You thought?”
“There was blood everywhere.”
I gripped the steering wheel.
“Why would Helena be in the same hospital as Elena?”
Mara stared ahead.
“I don’t know.”
But something in her face told me she had a theory.
“Tell me.”
“Sophia—”
“Tell me!”
“What if Elena’s stroke wasn’t meant to kill her?”
I frowned.
“What?”
“What if it was meant to bring you to the hospital?”
My blood chilled.
“Why?”
“To put you near Helena.”
I remembered my mother’s face when I showed her the photograph.
Not surprise.
Terror.
She already knew.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Elena knew Helena was there.”
Mara nodded slowly.
“Maybe.”
“Then why didn’t she tell me?”
“Because somebody was watching.”
My phone buzzed again.
A text.
Unknown number.
A photograph.
I opened it.
My breath caught.
My mother—Elena—was sitting in a wheelchair.
Alive.
Awake.
Terrified.
Behind her was a concrete wall.
Beside her stood a digital clock.
9:41 PM.
Current time.
Beneath the photograph was a message:
BRING THE KEY.
I showed Mara.
She stared at it.
Then another message arrived.
ALONE.
Then:
PHILADELPHIA.
An address followed.
Mara grabbed my phone.
“No.”
“Give it back.”
“You cannot go there.”
“My mother is there.”
“That’s what they want you to think.”
“That is Elena!”
“I know.”
“Then I’m going.”
“Look at the wall.”
“What?”
“Behind her.”
I zoomed in.
Faded blue paint.
A small symbol scratched into the concrete.
A cross inside a circle.
Mara’s face drained.
“What is that?”
“The Saint Helena seal.”
My stomach dropped.
“The children’s home burned down.”
“The main building did.”
“What does that mean?”
“There was another building beneath it.”
I stared at her.
“A basement?”
“No.”
Her voice dropped.
“A tunnel.”
Rain hammered the roof.
I pulled back onto the highway.
Philadelphia.
Mara stared at me.
“You’re really going.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming.”
“The message says alone.”
“And whoever sent it knows you’ll obey.”
“Exactly.”
“Meaning?”
“I need them to think I’m alone.”
For the first time, Mara almost smiled.
“Maybe you are Helena’s daughter.”
We drove in silence for twenty minutes.
Then Julia called again.
This time, she was crying.
“Sophia.”
“What happened?”
“I found Gabriel.”
I nearly swerved.
“Where?”
“He was at the hospital.”
“Was?”
“He left.”
“With Robert?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Julia took a breath.
“Sophia, Gabriel wasn’t kidnapped.”
“What?”
“He walked out.”
My mind refused to accept it.
“He sounded terrified.”
“I watched the footage.”
“Maybe Robert threatened him.”
“That’s not the strange part.”
“What is?”
“Gabriel and Robert left together.”
I looked at Mara.
She heard it.
Her face hardened.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did Gabriel look hurt?”
“No.”
“Restrained?”
“No.”
“They were talking.”
“Like enemies?”
Julia went quiet.
“Julia?”
“They hugged.”
My blood went cold.
“What?”
“Gabriel hugged Robert.”
Mara whispered:
“No.”
“And then,” Julia continued, “Robert handed him something.”
“What?”
“I zoomed in.”
My hand instinctively touched my necklace.
“A silver medallion,” Julia said.
I looked at mine.
That made no sense.
Gabriel was supposed to have the other half.
Why would Robert give him one?
Unless—
“Mara.”
She looked at me.
“You said Helena marked three children.”
“Yes.”
“And each had a medallion.”
“Yes.”
“So there are three.”
Mara froze.
I continued.
“Mine.”
“Gabriel’s.”
“And Daniel’s.”
Neither of us spoke.
Then Mara whispered:
“Robert had Daniel’s.”
I felt something click into place.
“If Robert gave Gabriel Daniel’s medallion…”
“Then Gabriel now has two pieces.”
“And I have the third.”
Mara stared at me.
“That deposit box doesn’t require one key.”
My stomach dropped.
“It requires three.”
“Yes.”
Suddenly the kidnapping message made sense.
Someone had Elena.
Someone wanted my key.
Robert and Gabriel had two others.
Everyone was moving toward Philadelphia.
Toward the deposit box.
Toward whatever Helena had hidden twenty years ago.
But one question remained.
“Where is Daniel?”
Mara didn’t answer.
“Mara?”
“I haven’t seen him in sixteen years.”
“Robert said he lives in London.”
“That is what Robert tells everyone.”
“What happened sixteen years ago?”
Mara looked at me.
“Daniel discovered he wasn’t Robert’s son.”
I stared at her.
“And?”
“He disappeared.”
“Where?”
“No one knows.”
My phone rang again.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Sophia?”
A man’s voice.
Not Gabriel.
Not Robert.
“Who is this?”
“You’ve been asking about me.”
My heart stopped.
Mara looked at me.
I put the call on speaker.
“Daniel?”
“Yes.”
Mara went completely still.
“Where are you?”
“Closer than you think.”
“What does that mean?”
“Don’t go to the address they sent you.”
“My mother is there.”
“No.”
“What?”
“Elena was there.”
“Was?”
“They moved her ten minutes ago.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’m inside the building.”
Mara leaned toward the phone.
“Daniel?”
Silence.
“Mara,” he finally said.
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You’re alive.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Where have you been?”
“Trying to stay that way.”
I interrupted.
“Where did they take Elena?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who are they?”
“That answer will cost you something.”
“What?”
“The key.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“Everyone wants this key.”
“Because everyone thinks it opens the box.”
“Doesn’t it?”
“No.”
I looked at Mara.
“What does it open?”
Daniel whispered:
“Your medallion isn’t a key to the deposit box.”
“Then what is it?”
“A key to Saint Helena.”
My stomach tightened.
“The tunnel?”
“Something underneath it.”
“What?”
“A room.”
“What room?”
Daniel hesitated.
“The room where we were born.”
My breath stopped.
“We?”
“Yes.”
“You were born there too?”
“All three of us were.”
I looked at Mara.
She seemed just as shocked.
Daniel continued.
“That’s the lie none of them wanted us to discover.”
“What lie?”
“Helena Ward wasn’t just your mother.”
The road seemed to vanish beneath me.
“What are you saying?”
“She gave birth to all three of us.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Daniel…”
“You, Gabriel, and me.”
My hands shook.
“You’re my brother?”
“Yes.”
Mara whispered:
“That’s impossible.”
Daniel laughed bitterly.
“Is it?”
“You were born months apart.”
“According to paperwork created by Robert.”
Silence.
“Triplets,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
I stared at the old photograph.
Three babies.
Three medallions.
Three scars.
Three stolen identities.
“Why separate us?”
“That,” Daniel said, “is what Helena discovered too late.”
A loud metallic bang sounded through his phone.
Daniel stopped talking.
“What was that?”
“Someone’s here.”
“Daniel?”
“Listen carefully.”
His voice became urgent.
“Do not give Robert your medallion.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“And don’t give it to Gabriel.”
My heart sank.
“Why?”
“Because Gabriel isn’t trying to expose Saint Helena.”
“What is he trying to do?”
“Destroy what’s left.”
Another bang.
Closer.
“Daniel, get out.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
A door creaked on his end.
Then I heard footsteps.
Daniel whispered:
“Because I finally found the room.”
“What room?”
“The one beneath Saint Helena.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“What is inside?”
He didn’t answer.
“Daniel?”
When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
He sounded like he was crying.
“Sophia…”
“What?”
“Helena kept records.”
My chest tightened.
“Of the children?”
“All of them.”
“What does it say about us?”
Silence.
Then:
“We weren’t stolen because someone wanted children.”
I felt cold.
“Then why?”
“We were hidden because of who our father was.”
“Who was our father?”
Before Daniel could answer, another voice came through his phone.
A woman’s voice.
Weak.
Older.
“Daniel?”
He gasped.
“Who’s there?” I asked.
Daniel didn’t answer me.
Instead, I heard him whisper:
“Oh my God.”
“Daniel!”
Then the woman spoke again.
“Isabella?”
I froze.
Nobody called me Isabella except Mara and Gabriel.
“Who is that?”
The woman began sobbing.
“My baby.”
My entire body trembled.
Mara stared at the phone as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Helena?” she whispered.
The woman heard her.
“Mara?”
Mara covered her mouth.
“Helena.”
Twenty years of death certificates, newspaper stories, and family lies collapsed in a single second.
My biological mother was alive.
Daniel had found her beneath Saint Helena.
“Mom?”
The word escaped me before I could stop it.
The woman cried harder.
“Isabella.”
I pressed the phone against my ear.
“I’m coming.”
“No!”
Her scream was so sudden that I flinched.
“Don’t come here.”
“Why?”
“Because Robert knows.”
“Knows what?”
“Who your father is.”
My throat tightened.
“Then tell me.”
Helena began speaking.
“Your father was—”
A gunshot exploded through the phone.
I screamed.
“Daniel!”
Static.
“Helena!”
Another sound.
A struggle.
Then someone picked up Daniel’s phone.
Breathing.
Slow.
Calm.
I waited.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice answered.
But it wasn’t Robert.
It wasn’t Gabriel.
It wasn’t Daniel.
“Hello, Sophia.”
Mara’s face changed instantly.
She recognized the voice.
Her hands began trembling.
“No,” she whispered.
I looked at her.
“Who is that?”
The man on the phone laughed softly.
Mara shook her head.
“He’s dead.”
“Who?”
“He died in the fire.”
The man heard her.
“Did I, Mara?”
She began backing against the passenger door even though there was nowhere to go.
I gripped the phone.
“Who are you?”
He ignored me.
Instead, he said:
“You’ve spent your whole life asking the wrong question, Sophia.”
“What question should I be asking?”
“Not who Robert is.”
I swallowed.
“Then what?”
“Why Robert has been protecting you.”
My heart stopped.
“Protecting me?”
“Yes.”
“From whom?”
There was a pause.
Then the man said:
“From me.”
Mara started crying.
I stared at her.
“Tell me his name.”
She couldn’t.
“Mara!”
Her lips finally moved.
“Victor.”
The man chuckled.
“Hello, Mara.”
I felt sick.
“Victor who?”
Mara looked at me.
“Victor Ward.”
Ward.
The same surname as Helena.
The same surname on my birth certificate.
I whispered:
“Are you my father?”
The line went silent.
Then Victor answered.
“Yes.”
Every piece of my life seemed to break at once.
“Why was Robert protecting me from you?”
Victor’s voice became colder.
“Because Robert stole my children.”
I looked at Mara.
She shook her head violently.
“No. Don’t believe him.”
Victor continued.
“Robert took you, Daniel, and Gabriel from me.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother asked him to.”
My heart pounded.
“Why would she do that?”
“Ask her.”
“Put Helena on the phone.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
Silence.
Then Victor said:
“She just made the same mistake she made twenty years ago.”
My blood turned to ice.
“What did you do?”
He ignored the question.
“Bring your medallion to Saint Helena before midnight.”
“No.”
“If you want Elena, Daniel, and your mother to leave alive, you’ll come.”
The line disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
11:07 PM.
Fifty-three minutes until midnight.
Mara whispered:
“We need police.”
“No.”
“Sophia—”
“If Victor really has them, police arriving could get them killed.”
“And walking into Saint Helena could get you killed.”
I looked at the photograph of the three babies.
For twenty-four years, people had decided who I was.
Elena decided I was Sophia.
Robert decided what truths I could know.
Mara decided which lies were safe enough to tell me.
Gabriel had apparently chosen his own side.
Daniel had spent sixteen years hiding.
Helena had buried evidence.
Victor had just threatened everyone I loved.
Enough.
I took the exit toward Philadelphia.
“What are you doing?” Mara asked.
“Going to Saint Helena.”
“You heard Victor.”
“Yes.”
“It’s a trap.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
“Because everyone keeps forgetting something.”
“What?”
I looked at the tiny camera indicator on my phone.
Julia was still connected.
Still recording.
“I’m not eleven anymore.”
Forty minutes later, the burned shell of Saint Helena appeared beyond the trees.
Most of the building had collapsed decades ago.
Blackened brick walls rose beneath the moon like broken teeth.
I parked half a mile away.
“Mara stays here,” I told Julia through the phone.
Mara objected.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know the tunnels.”
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Then draw them.”
She stared at me.
“Now.”
She took a notebook from the glove compartment and sketched quickly.
“Old chapel entrance. Staircase beneath the altar. Main tunnel splits twice.”
“Which way?”
“Left, then right.”
“And the room?”
“I’ve never seen it.”
I took the page.
Then I removed the medallion from my neck.
Mara frowned.
“What are you doing?”
I opened the lining of my jacket and slipped the brass key inside.
Then I put the empty medallion back around my neck.
“If Victor searches me, he gets nothing.”
For the first time, Mara looked impressed.
I stepped out.
“Sophia.”
I turned.
“If you see Gabriel…”
“What?”
“Don’t assume he’s your enemy.”
I nodded.
“And don’t assume he’s my brother.”
I walked toward Saint Helena.
The chapel doors were gone.
Inside, moonlight spilled through a collapsed roof.
I found the altar.
Behind it, exactly where Mara had drawn, was an iron hatch.
Open.
Someone expected me.
I descended.
The smell hit first.
Dust.
Rust.
Damp stone.
Then something else.
Smoke.
Fresh smoke.
I followed the tunnel.
Left.
Then right.
At the end stood a steel door.
A crescent-shaped indentation was carved beside the lock.
My scar.
I pulled the brass key from my jacket.
Inserted it.
Turned.
Click.
The door opened.
The room beyond was enormous.
Shelves lined every wall.
Hundreds of files.
Photographs.
Birth certificates.
Videotapes.
Boxes marked with dates.
Saint Helena hadn’t been a children’s home.
It had been an archive.
Then the lights switched on.
I spun around.
Robert stood behind me.
I stepped back.
“Where’s Victor?”
Robert looked exhausted.
Older than I’d ever seen him.
“Not here.”
“He called me from here.”
“I know.”
“Where’s Gabriel?”
“Gone.”
“Daniel?”
Robert’s expression changed.
“Alive, I hope.”
“Helena?”
He looked toward the shelves.
“Alive.”
“Elena?”
“Alive.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To stop you from opening the last door.”
I followed his gaze.
At the far end of the archive stood another door.
No handle.
Three circular slots.
Three medallions.
My heart pounded.
“What is behind it?”
“The truth Helena tried to bury.”
“About Victor?”
Robert shook his head.
“About you.”
I almost laughed.
“I know I’m Isabella Ward.”
“No.”
“I know Helena is my mother.”
“No.”
“I know Daniel and Gabriel are my brothers.”
Robert closed his eyes.
“That is the lie Victor needed you to believe.”
My body went still.
“What?”
“You are not triplets.”
“Daniel found records.”
“Victor created records.”
“Why?”
“To make the three of you look connected.”
“Then what connects us?”
Robert stared at the three slots.
“The same night.”
“What happened that night?”
“Three babies entered that room.”
“And?”
“Only two came out.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“What happened to the third?”
Robert looked directly at me.
“That depends on which child you really are.”
Footsteps echoed behind us.
Robert turned.
Gabriel emerged from the tunnel.
He held two silver medallions.
“Don’t listen to him,” Gabriel said.
Robert’s face hardened.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“Sophia, give me your medallion.”
“No.”
“We need all three.”
“To open that door?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel told me you want to destroy the evidence.”
“Daniel doesn’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
Gabriel looked at Robert.
“Ask him what happened at 2:17.”
My skin prickled.
I turned toward Robert.
“Why did you always enter my room at 2:17?”
Robert didn’t answer.
“Tell her,” Gabriel said.
Robert looked at me.
“Because 2:17 was the time you died.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
“What?”
Robert’s eyes filled with something I had never expected to see.
Grief.
“Twenty-four years ago, at 2:17 in the morning, a baby named Isabella Ward stopped breathing.”
My knees weakened.
“No.”
“Helena held her for forty minutes.”
“Stop.”
“She wouldn’t let anyone take the body.”
“STOP.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“Then explain Sophia.”
Robert looked at him.
“I’ve spent twenty years trying to.”
My scar burned beneath my sleeve as though my body itself remembered something my mind couldn’t.
I whispered:
“If Isabella died… who am I?”
Robert looked toward the sealed door.
“The answer is behind there.”
Gabriel lifted the two medallions.
“We open it.”
Robert stepped between us and the door.
“No.”
Gabriel’s voice hardened.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Victor has Helena.”
“I know.”
“He has Daniel.”
“I know.”
“He has Elena.”
“I know.”
“Then MOVE.”
Robert didn’t.
Gabriel reached into his coat.
My breath caught.
But before he could pull anything out, another voice echoed through the archive.
“He’s right, Gabriel.”
We turned.
Daniel stood in the doorway.
Blood covered one side of his shirt.
Helena leaned against him.
Alive.
Older.
Weak.
But unmistakably the woman from the photograph.
My biological mother.
Or the woman I had believed was my biological mother.
Her eyes found mine.
She began crying.
“Sophia.”
I couldn’t move.
Daniel helped her forward.
Gabriel stared at him.
“You escaped?”
Daniel smiled bitterly.
“Victor isn’t as clever as he thinks.”
Robert rushed toward Helena.
She recoiled.
“Don’t touch me.”
Robert stopped.
Pain crossed his face.
Then Helena looked at the sealed door.
“It’s time.”
Robert shook his head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Helena, you promised.”
“I promised to protect her.”
She looked at me.
“But we’ve spent twenty-four years protecting her with lies.”
She reached beneath her blouse.
Another medallion.
A fourth.
Everyone froze.
Gabriel whispered:
“There were four?”
Helena nodded.
My stomach dropped.
Robert closed his eyes.
“Helena.”
“What does the fourth one open?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“Nothing.”
“Then why do you have it?”
“Because it belonged to my daughter.”
My voice disappeared.
“Isabella?”
“Yes.”
“Then whose medallion am I wearing?”
Helena stared at my neck.
“The child who survived.”
Silence.
“What was her name?”
Helena began crying harder.
Before she could answer, applause echoed through the tunnel.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Everyone turned.
Victor stepped into the archive.
He looked older than Robert.
Tall.
Gray-haired.
A thin scar crossed his jaw.
Two men stood behind him.
Victor smiled.
“Finally.”
Robert moved in front of me.
Victor laughed.
“Still protecting her?”
“Yes.”
“After everything?”
“Especially after everything.”
Victor looked at Helena.
“You should have stayed dead.”
Daniel stepped in front of her.
Victor ignored him.
Then his eyes settled on me.
“Hello, Sophia.”
I felt Robert’s hand close around my wrist.
“Don’t speak to him.”
Victor smiled.
“Still giving orders, Robert?”
“Leave her out of this.”
“She is this.”
My heart hammered.
“What do you want?”
Victor pointed toward the sealed door.
“What I’ve wanted for twenty-four years.”
“What’s behind it?”
He smiled.
“The original recording.”
My blood chilled.
“Recording of what?”
“The night Saint Helena burned.”
Robert said:
“No.”
Victor looked at Gabriel.
“Three medallions.”
Gabriel stared at the two in his hand.
Then at mine.
Victor smiled.
“Open it.”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Don’t,” Robert warned.
Victor sighed.
One of the men behind him dragged someone from the tunnel.
Elena.
My mother.
Her hands were bound.
Tape covered her mouth.
“Mom!”
I ran forward.
Robert caught me.
Victor raised one finger.
“Open the door.”
Gabriel looked at me.
I looked at Elena.
Then Helena.
Then Robert.
Twenty-four years of lies stood inside one room.
I removed my medallion.
Robert whispered:
“Sophia, don’t.”
I handed it to Gabriel.
He inserted the first medallion.
Click.
Second.
Click.
Third.
Click.
The locks released.
The sealed door opened.
Inside was a tiny room.
One television.
One old video recorder.
One chair.
And a single tape.
Helena started sobbing.
Robert looked away.
Victor smiled.
Gabriel inserted the tape.
The screen flickered.
A date appeared.
Twenty-four years earlier.
2:06 AM.
A hospital-style room appeared.
Four newborn babies lay in four bassinets.
Not three.
Four.
My entire body went cold.
The timestamp advanced.
2:11.
A younger Helena entered.
Behind her came Elena.
Then Robert.
They were arguing.
There was no sound.
2:14.
Victor entered.
Helena tried to block him.
Victor shoved her aside.
Robert grabbed Victor.
They fought.
Elena lifted one baby.
2:16.
Smoke appeared beneath the door.
Someone had already started the fire.
Then the camera showed something none of us expected.
A fifth person entered.
A woman.
She carried a medical bag.
She walked directly to one bassinet.
Injected something into the baby’s IV.
2:17.
The monitor beside that infant went flat.
Helena screamed.
Even without audio, I could see it.
She grabbed the child.
Isabella.
Dead.
The mysterious woman turned toward the camera.
For one clear second, her face filled the screen.
I heard Robert whisper:
“Oh God.”
I knew that face.
I’d seen it every day of my childhood.
In family photographs.
At birthdays.
At Christmas.
Standing beside Robert.
His wife.
Aunt Catherine.
Gabriel stumbled backward.
Daniel swore.
Helena covered her face.
I stared at the screen.
Catherine had killed Isabella.
But the recording continued.
2:19.
Elena lifted another baby.
A baby with a crescent-shaped mark on her shoulder.
Me.
2:20.
Helena removed Isabella’s silver medallion.
Then she removed mine.
She switched them.
My heart stopped.
2:21.
Elena carried me toward the exit.
Robert opened the door for her.
He wasn’t stealing me.
He was helping me escape.
Victor lunged toward us.
Robert struck him.
2:22.
The camera filled with smoke.
Then Helena appeared directly in front of it.
She held up a piece of paper.
A name.
My original name.
The image flickered.
I leaned closer.
The letters came into focus.
Not Isabella Ward.
Not Sophia Beltran.
The name written on that paper was:
“EMILY VALE.”
I stopped breathing.
Helena looked at me.
“My name was Emily?”
She nodded.
“Who were my parents?”
Helena opened her mouth.
Then the television went black.
The lights died.
Darkness swallowed the archive.
Someone screamed.
A gunshot exploded.
Then another.
I dropped to the floor.
“Mom!”
People were running.
Robert shouted my name.
Daniel yelled for Helena.
I crawled blindly toward where I’d last seen Elena.
Then someone grabbed me.
I fought.
A hand covered my mouth.
“Quiet.”
Gabriel.
He pulled me behind the shelves.
“Someone cut the power.”
“No kidding.”
“Victor didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he wants the recording.”
A flashlight appeared near the entrance.
Then another.
Voices.
More people were entering.
Gabriel whispered:
“Catherine.”
My heart stopped.
“She can’t be here.”
“She is.”
“How do you know?”
He pointed toward the tunnel.
A woman’s voice echoed through the darkness.
Calm.
Elegant.
Familiar.
“Robert?”
I had heard that voice at Thanksgiving dinners.
Christmas mornings.
Family weddings.
Aunt Catherine.
Robert’s wife.
The woman who had supposedly spent most of the year abroad.
Robert answered from somewhere in the darkness.
“Catherine.”
She laughed.
“You really should have destroyed that tape.”
Robert said:
“I should have destroyed you.”
Her flashlight moved across the archive.
“Where is Sophia?”
Nobody answered.
“Sophia?”
I held my breath.
Catherine continued.
“Or should I call you Emily?”
Gabriel squeezed my hand.
Don’t move.
Catherine laughed softly.
“You’ve spent years wondering why Robert touched that scar every night.”
My stomach twisted.
“He wasn’t checking your identity,” she said.
“He was checking whether the scar was changing.”
I almost stood up.
Gabriel held me down.
Changing?
Scars didn’t change.
Catherine continued:
“Helena never marked those children.”
Mara had lied again.
“The crescent wasn’t made with a blade.”
My skin went cold.
“It was already there.”
I touched my shoulder.
Catherine’s flashlight swept closer.
“You weren’t taken to Saint Helena because someone wanted to adopt you, Emily.”
Silence.
“You were taken there because someone was trying to hide what you were born with.”
Robert shouted:
“Enough!”
Catherine ignored him.
“And the funniest part?”
Her footsteps stopped just feet from where Gabriel and I hid.
“The person who brought you to Saint Helena is standing in this room.”
My heart hammered.
Helena?
Robert?
Victor?
Elena?
Daniel?
Gabriel leaned toward me.
“Don’t listen.”
Then Catherine said:
“Ask Elena.”
Everything inside me stopped.
My mother.
The woman who raised me.
Catherine’s voice softened.
“Ask Elena why she had you before the fire.”
My throat closed.
Before?
The story had always been that Elena rescued me from Saint Helena.
But the recording showed her reaching for me immediately.
Like she knew exactly which baby I was.
Catherine continued:
“Ask her why Emily Vale had no birth certificate.”
My hands began trembling.
“Ask her why no hospital has any record of your birth.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“And most importantly…”
Catherine’s flashlight suddenly illuminated our hiding place.
I stared straight into her smiling face.
“…ask her why Robert has been waiting twenty-four years for your scar to disappear.”
She raised something in her hand.
Not a gun.
A photograph.
She dropped it in front of me.
It showed a newborn baby.
Me.
On the back was a date.
But it wasn’t twenty-four years ago.
It was twenty-nine years ago.
I stared at it.
“That isn’t possible.”
Catherine smiled.
“No?”
“I’m twenty-four.”
“No, Emily.”
She crouched in front of me.
“You’ve been told you’re twenty-four.”
I looked toward Elena.
Even in the darkness, I could see her crying.
I whispered:
“Mom?”
She lowered her head.
My stomach dropped.
Catherine stood.
“You want the truth?”
Nobody moved.
She pointed at Elena.
“Your mother didn’t rescue you from Saint Helena.”
My breathing stopped.
“She brought you there.”
I stared at Elena.
“No.”
Catherine smiled.
“And Saint Helena wasn’t the first place they changed your name.”
The archive seemed to shrink around me.
“What was?”
Catherine’s expression changed.
For the first time, her smile disappeared.
“A hospital in Boston.”
“What happened there?”
“You died.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Five years before Saint Helena.”
My mind rejected the words.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
She pointed toward my crescent-shaped scar.
“Then ask Robert what he found every night when he checked your shoulder.”
I turned toward him.
Robert was silent.
“Robert?”
He looked broken.
“Tell me.”
His voice was barely audible.
“The scar was fading.”
I touched my shoulder.
“So?”
“It shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
Robert looked at me.
“Because it isn’t a scar.”
The room went completely silent.
“Then what is it?”
Robert took one step toward me.
“A surgical mark.”
My blood turned cold.
“What surgery?”
He swallowed.
“The one performed on you five years before the Saint Helena fire.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Why?”
Robert’s eyes filled with tears.
“To save your life.”
“From what?”
He looked at Elena.
She began sobbing.
Then he looked back at me.
“From the person who tried to kill you the first time.”
Catherine smiled again.
I knew before he said it.
But I needed to hear the name.
“Who?”
Robert pointed across the room.
Not at Catherine.
Not at Victor.
Not at Helena.
At Elena.
My mother.
The woman who had raised me.
And Robert whispered:
“Her.”
END OF PART 3
One Comment on “PART 3: My uncle used to touch me while I was sound asleep. He thought I didn’t notice, but the truth is I welcomed every second… because every second was being recorded. It wasn’t affection. It wasn’t an accident. And last night, when he entered my room again, he finally whispered the name he had been hiding for twenty years.”