Gregory did not move.
I stared at the page in his hand.
“Where did you get that?”
He looked at Dad.
“Your father kept it.”
Dad shook his head.
“I never had it.”
“Then where?”
Gregory slowly unfolded the paper.
“It was inside the hospital file.”
Lena was still missing.
The nurse was gone.
Wren was gone.
And the one man my mother had appointed as guardian was holding the page she had hidden.
“Read it,” I said.
Gregory looked at me.
“You don't want to.”
“Read it.”
He swallowed.
“Your mother wrote that the person most likely to discover the truth about Simone would be the person closest to her.”
I waited.
“She wrote that she feared someone inside the household would eventually betray her.”
Dad stepped forward.
“Who?”
Gregory continued.
“She never named the person.”
“Why not?”
“Because she didn't know.”
That made no sense.
“She wrote this after the trust amendment.”
“Yes.”
“Then why leave it unfinished?”
“She didn't.”
Gregory turned the page over.
There was another paragraph.
I had not seen it because the page had been folded.
If I am wrong about him, forgive me. If I am right, Simone must never be left alone with him.
I looked at Dad.
“Who is him?”
Gregory shook his head.
“I don't know.”
Dad stared at the paper.
Then he whispered, “I do.”
We both looked at him.
“It was me.”
I felt as though someone had struck me.
“You?”
“Your mother thought I was hiding something.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because I was.”
The words came slowly.
“I had discovered that your grandfather had been paying Marcus Ellis.”
“For what?”
“To monitor the family.”
Dad sat down.
“I thought Marcus was working for me.”
“But he wasn't.”
“No.”
“Did Mom know?”
“She suspected.”
“Then why stay married to you?”
“Because she believed I could be trusted.”
I looked toward the empty nursery.
“She was wrong about someone.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Dad looked at me.
“Not me.”
I stared at him.
“Then who?”
The alarm sounded.
Every light in the house flashed red.
Gregory grabbed my arm.
“Safe room.”
“No.”
“Simone.”
“My daughter is missing.”
“We find her.”
We searched every room.
The nurse was found unconscious in the guest wing.
Alive.
Drugged.
There was no sign of Wren.
Security reviewed the cameras.
At 8:42 p.m., the nurse entered the nursery.
At 8:44, the camera went dark.
At 8:47, the camera came back.
Nobody had entered.
Nobody had left.
Except the nurse.
The mystery was impossible.
Then Gregory noticed the ventilation panel.
He removed it.
Behind it was a narrow service passage.
It connected to the old servants' quarters.
A person could move through the house unseen.
But whoever designed it would have needed the original blueprints.
Mom had them.
Dad had them.
Gregory had them.
And Lena had recently reviewed them.
“Where is Lena?” I asked.
Nobody knew.
We found her phone in the library.
Then a message appeared on the screen.
Do not trust the guardian.
I looked at Gregory.
He closed his eyes.
“That's Adrian.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he used the same phrase when threatening me years ago.”
“Why would he tell me not to trust you?”
“Because he wants you to.”
Dad picked up the phone.
“He wants us fighting.”
“But Wren is still missing.”
“We need to think.”
I looked at the message.
There was an attachment.
A photograph.
Wren was asleep in someone's arms.
My blood froze.
The person holding her was wearing a gray sweater.
I recognized the sleeve.
Dad's.
I looked at him.
“That isn't mine.”
Gregory studied the image.
“The background.”
“What?”
“Look behind them.”
A painting.
An old landscape.
I knew it.
Mom's private house.
The cottage at Marrow Lake.
She had left it to me years ago.
No one had used it since her death.
“That's where they took her.”
We left immediately.
The road to Marrow Lake was dark.
Rain began falling halfway there.
Gregory drove.
Dad sat beside me.
Neither spoke.
Finally Dad said, “There is something I should have told you years ago.”
“What?”
“Your mother wasn't planning to leave me.”
I looked at him.
“She was planning to move you.”
“Why?”
“She believed the family had become unsafe.”
“Because of Adrian?”
“Yes.”
“And Marcus.”
“Yes.”
“What about you?”
He looked at me.
“She never stopped trusting me.”
I looked away.
“Then why did she write that warning?”
“Because she knew trust could change.”
The cottage appeared through the trees.
No lights.
No vehicles.
Gregory stopped.
We entered through the back.
The place smelled of damp wood.
Then we heard Wren crying.
I ran toward the sound.
A bedroom door opened.
Lena stood there holding my daughter.
I froze.
“Lena?”
She looked terrified.
“I found her.”
“Where?”
“Behind the wall.”
Gregory approached cautiously.
“Who took her?”
Lena shook her head.
“I don't know.”
“Then why were you missing?”
“I was following someone.”
“Who?”
“Adrian.”
Dad stared at her.
“He's here?”
“He was.”
“Where?”
“He left.”
“Why?”
Lena looked at me.
“Because he wanted me to find something.”
She handed me a small box.
Inside was a cassette tape.
An old one.
Mom's voice.
I pressed play.
“Simone, if this recording reaches you, then Adrian has found the trust.”
I looked at Wren.
My mother continued.
“There is something I could not put into the legal documents.”
The tape crackled.
“Your father knows.”
Dad went still.
“Your biological father is Raymond Caldwell.”
Gregory closed his eyes.
“Your father is not the man you think.”
My heart stopped.
Then Mom continued.
“The man you call Dad is your father.”
I looked at Dad.
“He is the man who raised you, but he is also the man whose blood you carry.”
The DNA report.
The missing records.
Everything aligned.
Mom had never been hiding my father from me.
She had been hiding the fact that Adrian was lying.
The tape continued.
“Raymond Bennett is not your biological father. He is your guardian because he is the only person outside the immediate family I trusted completely.”
Gregory's eyes filled.
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
Mom's voice softened.
“Simone, if Adrian ever claims to be your father, do not believe him.”
The tape ended.
I held Wren close.
For the first time, the family tree finally made sense.
Dad was my father.
Gregory was my guardian.
Adrian was a liar.
But one question remained.
Who had taken Wren?
Lena looked at me.
“The answer is in the box.”
I opened the bottom.
A photograph lay beneath the tape.
It showed Mom, Dad, Gregory, and a fourth person.
A young woman.
I recognized her.
Judith.
But she was pregnant.
On the back, Mom had written:
This was before Judith married Roland's father.
I stared at the photograph.
“Why does this matter?”
Lena pointed to the woman's abdomen.
“Look at the date.”
I did.
It was twenty-nine years ago.
The same year I was born.
I looked at the photograph again.
Judith had been pregnant at the same time as Mom.
And written beneath her name were two words.
Twin daughters.
I looked at Lena.
“What?”
She nodded.
“Your mother may have had another child.”
My mind refused to accept it.
“That isn't possible.”
“Then we need the original hospital records.”
“Where?”
Lena looked toward the lake.
“Adrian knows.”
A car engine started outside.
We ran to the window.
Adrian's vehicle disappeared down the road.
On the porch, he had left a final envelope.
Inside was a birth certificate.
The name on it was not mine.
But the mother's name was Eleanor Caldwell.
And the date of birth matched mine exactly.
The child's name was Judith's daughter.
The same hospital.
The same day.
I looked at Dad.
“Why would Mom have two daughters?”
He stared at the certificate.
“I don't know.”
Gregory whispered one sentence.
“Because one of them may have been taken.”
Click Here to continue read next: PART12: The Second Birth Certificate Opened a Door My Mother Had Kept Locked for Twenty-Nine Years, and the Truth Threatened to Change Who I Called Family
Six Days After Giving Birth, I Realized My Husband Had Not Left Me Behind by Accident
Part 11 of 16
