For a moment, I couldn't understand the sentence.
Then I did.
“No.”
Dad didn't argue.
“No,” I repeated.
He looked at me with an expression I had never seen on his face.
Not guilt.
Not fear.
Grief.
“Samuel was born before you,” he said.
I looked at the photograph again.
The boy couldn't have been more than seventeen.
“He was Mom's son?”
“Yes.”
“Who was his father?”
Dad looked down.
“Not me.”
The answer came quietly.
I turned away.
The archive suddenly seemed airless.
Marlene closed the door behind us.
Adrian stood near the shelves, watching Dad.
“You knew,” I said.
Dad nodded.
“How long?”
“Your entire life.”
“And Mom?”
“She knew.”
“Why did nobody tell me?”
“Because Samuel's identity was tied to the property case.”
“How?”
Dad sat down.
“When your grandfather took the Ellis property, Samuel was a child. Your mother had helped prepare the paperwork before she realized what it meant. She left the family afterward.”
“Where did she go?”
“She stayed with the Ellis family for a while.”
“Then?”
“Your grandfather forced her to return.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because he knew she could expose him.”
The pieces shifted.
My mother hadn't simply discovered a family secret.
She had been trapped inside it.
“Where was Samuel?”
“Raised by his grandmother.”
“And Mom?”
“She saw him secretly.”
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because your mother believed revealing him would put him in danger.”
“Is he dead?”
Dad looked at me.
“No.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
Adrian spoke.
“I do.”
Dad turned sharply.
Adrian removed another document from his folder.
“Samuel Ellis is alive.”
I looked at him.
“Where?”
“Canada.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because he doesn't want to be found.”
“Then why bring him into this?”
“Because he is the legal heir to the original claim.”
I understood.
The house wasn't merely tied to the Ellis family.
It was tied to Samuel.
“But Mom left the house to me.”
“She did,” Adrian said.
“Why?”
“Because Samuel refused it.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed the house belonged to the person your mother chose to live there.”
I looked at Dad.
“Me.”
He nodded.
“Your mother wanted you to inherit it.”
“Then why did she need Samuel?”
“She needed his testimony.”
“About what?”
“That the original transaction was coerced.”
I looked at the papers.
“Then the house can legally be returned.”
“Yes.”
“And if Samuel confirms it, Victor loses his claim.”
“Yes.”
I felt a strange calm settle over me.
Then I noticed something.
“Where is Samuel now?”
Adrian hesitated.
“Closer than you think.”
The basement door slammed upstairs.
Everyone froze.
A second later, footsteps pounded down the stairs.
Adrian grabbed the folder.
“Back exit.”
We ran.
The archive had another door at the rear, leading into an old maintenance corridor. We squeezed through it and emerged behind the science building.
Rain had started again.
Dad caught my arm.
“Don't go home.”
“I wasn't planning to.”
“Good.”
“Where do we go?”
Adrian answered.
“To the hospital.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Samuel is there.”
I stopped walking.
“You said Canada.”
“He returned two months ago.”
“Why?”
“To see your mother.”
My chest tightened.
“She died eleven years ago.”
“He came back because he didn't know.”
I looked at Dad.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you kept him from seeing her?”
Dad's face crumpled.
“She was already gone.”
“You could have told him.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That he would expose everything before I could protect you.”
I stepped away.
“You didn't protect me.”
“I know.”
For once, he didn't defend himself.
The hospital was twenty minutes away.
Nobody spoke during the drive.
Adrian sat beside me in the back seat while Dad drove. Marlene followed in another car.
When we reached the hospital, Adrian led us to a private rehabilitation wing.
A man sat near the window at the end of the corridor.
He was older now, perhaps in his forties.
Gray threaded through his dark hair.
He held a photograph.
When he saw me, he stood.
His eyes immediately filled with tears.
“You're Mara.”
I couldn't answer.
He nodded toward the photograph.
“She kept this.”
It was a picture of Mom holding a baby.
Me.
Beside the crib stood a teenage boy.
Samuel.
“I thought she forgot me,” he said.
“She didn't.”
He looked at Dad.
The two men stared at each other.
“You knew,” Samuel said.
Dad nodded.
“You knew where I was.”
“Yes.”
“You never told me she was dying.”
Dad's shoulders lowered.
“I was wrong.”
Samuel looked away.
Then he gave me the photograph.
“Your mother wrote to me.”
“When?”
“Every year.”
My eyes widened.
“Where are the letters?”
“I have them.”
“Why didn't she tell me?”
“She thought you deserved an ordinary childhood.”
I almost laughed.
“Nothing about this is ordinary.”
“No,” Samuel said. “It isn't.”
He reached into his coat.
“There is one letter you haven't seen.”
He handed it to me.
The envelope had my name.
The handwriting was Mom's.
My fingers shook as I opened it.
Mara,
If you are reading this, then the house has become more important than I ever wanted it to be.
I looked at Dad.
He closed his eyes.
The letter continued.
Your father will tell you that he was trying to protect you. He will be telling the truth.
But he will not tell you that protection became another form of control.
My eyes burned.
I kept reading.
The house belongs to you only if you choose to keep it. If you don't, return it. The important thing is that no one else decides for you.
At the bottom was one final instruction.
Before you sign anything, ask Samuel what really happened.
I lowered the letter.
Samuel was watching me.
“What really happened?” I asked.
He sat down.
“My grandmother didn't sell the house.”
I waited.
“She never owned it.”
My confusion returned.
Samuel looked toward Dad.
“Your grandfather took it before she was born.”
The room went silent.
Then Samuel added the sentence that changed everything.
“And your mother knew exactly where the original deed was hidden.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: Samuel Revealed Where the Original Deed Had Been Hidden, and the Place He Named Was Somewhere I Had Visited My Entire Life
The Number on the Screen Was Almost Perfect, Yet One Lie About It Could Cost Me My Home
Part 8 of 14
