The woman stood beneath the weak fluorescent light with her coat buttoned to the throat. She looked to be in her late thirties, perhaps a few years older than me, with dark hair pulled behind one ear and a face that seemed strangely familiar.
“Mara,” she said again.
I could not answer.
Dad stepped between us.
“Ella, you shouldn't have come here.”
The woman's expression hardened.
“You knew she would come eventually.”
I looked at Dad.
“Her name is Ella?”
The woman nodded.
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“And yours was Mara before he changed it.”
The words made my skin prickle.
Dad closed his eyes.
“Ella, please.”
“No.”
She took another step toward us.
“You've had thirty-six years to tell her.”
I stared at her.
“Tell me what?”
She looked at Dad.
“Tell her why she was given my sister's name.”
Dad's face had gone completely still.
I looked from one to the other.
“You're Ella Ellis.”
“Yes.”
“The child from the records?”
She nodded.
“And you're saying I'm Mara Ellis.”
“Yes.”
I could barely hear myself speak.
“Then who was the other child?”
Ella looked toward the dark road.
“Jonah.”
The name from the hospital record.
The name from the list.
I remembered the three bracelets.
Mara.
Ella.
Jonah.
Three children.
Three names.
Three properties.
My entire life suddenly seemed to have been built on a story somebody else had written.
“Where is Jonah?” I asked.
Ella's expression changed.
“I don't know.”
Dad looked at her sharply.
“You told me you had found him.”
“I found a record.”
“That isn't the same thing.”
“I know.”
I stepped forward.
“You both need to stop talking around me.”
Ella looked at me.
“You're right.”
She reached inside her coat and removed a folded document.
“I didn't come here to frighten you.”
“Then why?”
“Because someone else has been looking for the same records.”
Dad's shoulders tightened.
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“That's not good enough.”
She gave him a cold look.
“You taught me that answer.”
I looked at Dad.
“What happened between you two?”
Ella folded the document again.
“Your father found me twelve years ago.”
I stared at her.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make sure I stayed quiet.”
Dad shook his head.
“That isn't what happened.”
“Then tell her.”
He said nothing.
Ella looked at me.
“He offered me money.”
“For what?”
“To leave the state.”
I felt a strange chill.
“Why would he want you gone?”
“Because I had found the first property.”
“What property?”
She gave me an address.
It was the second address on the list.
I remembered the document in my father's box.
The same address beside Ella Ellis.
“What is there?”
“A house.”
“Who owns it?”
She looked at Dad.
“Your family did.”
Dad said quietly, “Not anymore.”
“Who owns it now?”
“A corporation.”
Ella nodded.
“A corporation with no employees.”
I looked at Dad.
“Another shell company.”
He didn't deny it.
Ella continued.
“That's where your grandfather moved money.”
“And the children?”
“The children were part of the paperwork.”
“How?”
She hesitated.
“Names were attached to properties.”
I felt sick.
“Why?”
“To disguise ownership.”
Dad spoke quietly.
“Your grandfather used children's names because they couldn't legally control anything.”
“But the records still existed.”
“Yes.”
“And Evelyn found them.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Ella.
“You're Evelyn's daughter?”
She nodded.
The world seemed to tilt again.
“My aunt's baby.”
“Yes.”
“You were taken from her?”
Ella looked down.
“My mother gave me to someone she trusted.”
“Who?”
“A nurse.”
Dad's face tightened.
“She was supposed to keep you safe.”
“She did.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“With another family.”
“Did they know?”
“Not everything.”
I swallowed.
“Did you know who you were?”
“Not until I was twenty-four.”
“How?”
“I found a photograph.”
The same way I had found mine.
Ella reached into her coat again and pulled out an old photograph.
It showed Evelyn holding a baby.
The same photograph I had seen in the box.
But on the back, there was handwriting I hadn't seen before.
“Ella.”
My breath caught.
I looked at Dad.
“You knew.”
He looked at me.
“I knew Evelyn had a daughter.”
“You knew she was alive?”
“I suspected.”
Ella stepped closer.
“He knew.”
Dad didn't deny it.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was trying to protect you.”
I laughed once.
The sound came out bitter.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Ella looked at me.
“You need to hear something else.”
“What?”
“My mother believed you were her second child.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“She believed there were two children taken from the hospital records.”
My throat tightened.
“But I wasn't taken.”
“No.”
“Then why was I registered as Mara Ellis?”
“Because your grandfather needed a third identity.”
I looked at Dad.
He nodded slowly.
“Your grandfather changed the records after your birth.”
“Why?”
“Because he wanted the three names connected.”
“To the properties.”
“Yes.”
I understood now.
The names were not random.
They were a trail.
But why had my father kept the house?
Why had he placed my name on the deed?
Ella answered before I could ask.
“Because he believed the house was the last place where the original ledger was hidden.”
I turned toward Dad.
“Is that true?”
He looked away.
“Dad.”
“Yes.”
I felt the anger return.
“You knew the ledger was here?”
“I believed it was.”
“You let me pay the mortgage on a house because of a ledger?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because your grandfather had transferred the property to you before he died.”
“What?”
Dad shook his head.
“Not legally. Not completely.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small envelope.
“I found this after he died.”
I took it.
Inside was an old letter.
The handwriting belonged to my grandfather.
It contained only a few lines.
The property must remain with Mara Ellis.
Do not allow the house to be sold.
The ledger is not the only record.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at Dad.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know what Mara Ellis meant.”
I pointed at myself.
“It meant me.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know that?”
“Not until later.”
“How much later?”
“Years.”
I folded the letter.
Ella stepped closer.
“There's more.”
“What?”
“The ledger wasn't hidden in the house.”
Dad looked at her.
“Then where?”
She pointed toward the road.
“The third property.”
I looked at the address from the list.
Jonah's property.
“Does Jonah know?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is he?”
Ella shook her head.
“That's what I've been trying to find out.”
I turned toward Dad.
“And you've been trying too.”
He nodded.
“For years.”
“Without telling me.”
“Yes.”
I felt exhausted.
The truth was arriving in pieces, but every piece created another question.
Then headlights appeared at the far end of the road.
Ella looked over her shoulder.
“That's not the car from before.”
Dad moved quickly.
“Get in the truck.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever is coming has followed us.”
We hurried toward the pickup.
The other vehicle turned into the parking lot.
It did not stop.
It passed slowly.
The driver's face was hidden.
But the passenger raised a phone toward us.
Taking a picture.
Dad started the engine.
Ella climbed into the back seat.
I closed the passenger door.
As we pulled away, I looked back.
The vehicle remained beside the post office.
Then it followed.
Dad accelerated.
“Where are we going?”
“To the house.”
I looked at him.
“You said the ledger wasn't there.”
“It isn't.”
“Then why go back?”
He looked at me.
“Because the key is.”
I held the brass key in my hand.
P.O. BOX 17.
“What does it open?”
Dad's voice was quiet.
“The room your grandfather sealed before he died.”
I looked at Ella.
She stared through the rear window.
Then she said, “If that room is still intact, we may finally find out what happened to Jonah.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: Behind the Locked Room, We Found Proof That the Three Names Had Been Used for Far More Than Anyone Had Admitted
One Cruel Joke at Dinner Exposed the Price My Family Had Been Quietly Expecting Me to Pay
Part 9 of 20
