Chapter 6 - The Night Everyone Thought I Disappeared
"Rebecca?"
My father whispered the name as a woman appeared at the top of the staircase.
She was tall and slender, with shoulder-length blonde hair and an elegant black dress. Her face was pale, and she held the wooden railing as though she needed it to remain standing.
Isabella looked up.
"Mom?"
The woman didn't answer.
Her eyes were fixed on Elizabeth.
Then she began crying.
"Oh, my God."
Elizabeth stepped backward.
"Why is she looking at me?"
Rebecca slowly descended the staircase.
My father stood motionless.
Charles Montgomery smiled.
"Well, Richard. I believe this family reunion is long overdue."
Rebecca reached the bottom of the stairs.
She ignored her brother.
She ignored Isabella.
She walked directly toward Elizabeth.
"My baby."
Elizabeth's face drained of color.
"What?"
Rebecca reached for her hand.
Elizabeth immediately pulled away.
"Don't touch me."
Rebecca stopped.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry."
I stepped between them.
"Someone needs to explain what's happening. Right now."
Charles picked up the sealed envelope.
"Perhaps the birth records will help."
My father lunged toward him.
"Don't you dare!"
Adrian immediately moved between them.
"Richard, stop."
Charles calmly placed the envelope on the table.
Then he looked directly at Elizabeth.
"Would you like to know why your father gave you away?"
Nobody moved.
I stared at my father.
"Gave her away?"
He shook his head.
"That's not what happened."
Rebecca suddenly turned toward Charles.
"Stop twisting everything!"
Her brother looked amused.
"Then perhaps you'd prefer to explain."
She looked at Elizabeth.
Her expression crumpled.
"I never wanted any of this."
Elizabeth laughed bitterly.
"That's becoming everyone's favorite sentence."
Rebecca flinched.
I picked up the envelope.
My father grabbed my wrist.
"Evelyn, please."
I pulled away.
"Don't."
He released me.
I tore open the envelope.
Inside were several medical documents, an old hospital photograph, and a birth certificate.
The first document listed Rebecca Montgomery as the mother of a baby girl.
The child's name was Elizabeth.
The father's name was Richard Whitmore.
My hands began trembling.
I looked toward my sister.
She was staring at the document.
Then she whispered, "That's impossible."
Rebecca covered her mouth.
My father closed his eyes.
And Charles smiled.
"Twenty-five years ago," Charles began, "your father made an agreement with my family."
"Shut up," Rebecca snapped.
Charles ignored her.
"Richard needed money. Our family needed access to Whitmore Holdings. A marriage would have solved both problems."
My father looked exhausted.
"I never married Rebecca."
"No," Charles agreed. "You didn't."
He glanced toward my mother, who remained safely away from the estate.
"But that didn't prevent you from having a child together."
I felt sick.
Elizabeth shook her head.
"No."
Rebecca stepped forward.
"Elizabeth, please listen."
My sister backed away.
"Don't call me that."
I looked at the birth certificate again.
Something wasn't right.
The date was the same as mine.
But the hospital was different.
And the attending physician's signature looked strangely familiar.
"Adrian."
He turned toward me.
"Look at this."
I pointed toward the physician's name.
Dr. Samuel Mercer.
Adrian's expression changed.
"Where have I heard that name?"
Margaret suddenly stepped forward.
"He was the doctor who delivered Catherine's babies."
I stared at her.
"Both of us?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Then why is his signature on Rebecca's certificate?"
Nobody answered.
I turned toward Charles.
"Because this is fake."
His smile disappeared.
Adrian took the document from me.
He examined it carefully.
"The certificate might be genuine, altered, or completely fabricated. We need the original hospital records."
Charles folded his arms.
"You're welcome to challenge it in court."
Rebecca suddenly grabbed the certificate.
"Enough!"
She tore it in half.
Charles's expression changed immediately.
"Rebecca!"
She threw the pieces onto the floor.
"You promised me you wouldn't do this!"
I stared at her.
"Do what?"
She looked at Elizabeth.
"Make you believe I was your mother."
Silence.
My sister stopped breathing.
"What?"
Rebecca began crying.
"I gave birth to a daughter. That's true."
She turned toward Isabella.
"Her."
Isabella looked confused.
"Mom?"
Rebecca nodded.
"You're my daughter."
Then she looked back at Elizabeth.
"But you aren't."
Charles slammed his briefcase shut.
"Rebecca, you're making a mistake."
She faced him.
"No. I made my mistake twenty-five years ago."
My father sank into a chair.
I looked between them.
"Then why does that certificate exist?"
Rebecca's voice dropped.
"Because your grandfather discovered something Charles never wanted anyone to know."
A sudden noise came from the hallway.
Adrian immediately turned.
One of his security officers appeared near the entrance.
"Sir, we have a problem."
"What?"
"Two vehicles just entered the property."
Adrian glanced toward Charles.
"Your people?"
Charles shrugged.
"My attorneys."
"Attorneys don't usually arrive with private security at midnight."
Charles smiled.
"Mine do."
Adrian took out his phone.
"Secure the west entrance. Nobody comes upstairs."
I looked toward Elizabeth.
She was trembling.
I reached for her hand.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"The safe."
Charles immediately stepped forward.
"Absolutely not."
I stared at him.
"Watch me."
Adrian positioned himself between us and Charles.
"Richard, where is the safe?"
My father looked toward the old library.
"Behind my father's portrait."
Margaret suddenly gasped.
"No."
Everyone turned.
She looked terrified.
"Catherine moved it."
My father frowned.
"What?"
"After your father died. She moved the original documents."
"Where?"
Margaret looked at Elizabeth.
"To the nursery."
My stomach tightened.
The nursery.
The room where my grandfather used to tell us stories.
The room I hadn't entered since childhood.
Elizabeth squeezed my hand.
"Then that's where we're going."
We hurried upstairs.
Adrian accompanied us, while one of his security officers remained downstairs.
My father followed reluctantly.
Margaret walked ahead, carrying a small flashlight.
Behind us, I could hear Charles arguing with Rebecca.
Isabella said something I couldn't understand.
Then Harrison's voice rose sharply.
I didn't look back.
The old nursery stood at the end of the second-floor hallway.
Its white wooden door was covered with faded painted stars.
I remembered those stars.
My grandfather had painted them himself.
One for me.
One for Elizabeth.
I suddenly remembered something else.
A little girl sitting beside me on the nursery floor.
We were holding identical stuffed rabbits.
Our grandfather was laughing.
Then a woman entered.
And the little girl beside me began crying.
I stopped walking.
"Evelyn?" Adrian asked.
I pressed a hand against my forehead.
"I remember something."
Elizabeth turned.
"What?"
"The night you disappeared."
My sister went completely still.
"What do you remember?"
I looked at her.
"You were crying."
Her expression changed.
"And someone was carrying you."
"Who?"
I closed my eyes.
I could see a dark hallway.
A woman's hands.
A silver bracelet.
And a little girl reaching toward me.
Then the memory vanished.
"I don't know."
Margaret suddenly whispered, "We need to open the nursery."
Elizabeth inserted the silver key into the lock.
It turned easily.
The door opened.
The room looked almost exactly as I remembered it.
Two small beds.
A wooden rocking chair.
A white bookshelf filled with children's stories.
And above the fireplace, a portrait of our grandfather.
I walked toward the beds.
One had a faded blue blanket.
The other had a yellow blanket.
My chest tightened.
Elizabeth touched the yellow one.
"I remember this."
She looked at me.
"You always wanted the blue blanket."
I smiled through my tears.
"Apparently, I still do."
For one brief moment, we were simply two sisters remembering childhood.
Then Adrian approached the fireplace.
"Where's the safe?"
Margaret pointed toward the portrait.
"Behind that."
My father shook his head.
"I checked that compartment years ago."
Margaret looked at him.
"Your father had two."
Adrian carefully lifted the portrait.
Behind it was a small metal panel.
Elizabeth inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
The panel opened.
Inside was a wooden box.
My mother's initials were engraved across the lid.
C.W.
I reached for it.
My hands were shaking.
Adrian gently touched my shoulder.
"Take your time."
I looked at him.
For the first time since the gala, I wanted to believe he was on my side.
But Elizabeth's warning still haunted me.
Adrian Blackwood was there the night they took me.
I pulled the box free.
And opened it.
Inside were three envelopes.
A small cassette tape.
Several photographs.
And a handwritten journal.
My mother's journal.
I immediately recognized her handwriting.
Elizabeth picked up the photographs.
One showed our mother holding two newborn babies.
Another showed my father standing beside her.
The third showed Rebecca Montgomery outside the hospital.
She was holding a newborn girl.
Isabella.
But someone else stood beside her.
Charles.
And in his arms was another baby.
I stared at the photograph.
"Who's that?"
My father stepped closer.
His face changed.
"Oh, God."
Adrian examined the image.
"There's a date on the back."
He turned it over.
The photograph had been taken two days after our birth.
Beneath the date was a handwritten sentence.
Charles took the wrong child.
Elizabeth looked at me.
"What does that mean?"
My father suddenly sat down on one of the little beds.
He looked as though he might be sick.
Margaret covered her face.
And I realized something terrible.
They both knew.
"Tell us," I demanded.
My father shook his head.
"I can't."
I stepped closer.
"You've spent my entire life telling me what I can and cannot do. Now I'm telling you something."
He looked up.
"You will tell us the truth."
He began crying.
"I thought Elizabeth was dead."
My sister went completely still.
"What?"
My father looked at her.
"The night Charles took you, he told me there had been an accident."
Elizabeth's voice shook.
"What accident?"
"He said you had died."
I stared at him.
"But you told Mom Elizabeth was safe."
He closed his eyes.
"Because Charles threatened Evelyn."
My stomach turned.
My father continued.
"He said that if I told Catherine what happened, he'd take Evelyn, too."
Elizabeth stepped backward.
"So you let Mom believe I was alive?"
He nodded.
"I thought I could find a way to bring you back."
My sister stared at him.
"For eleven years?"
He couldn't answer.
She turned away.
I wanted to scream.
But then Adrian spoke.
"Richard, the photograph says Charles took the wrong child. What does that mean?"
My father looked toward Margaret.
She shook her head desperately.
"Richard, don't."
He stared at her.
"You were there."
I turned.
"What?"
Margaret began trembling.
"I didn't know what Charles intended."
My father stood.
"You helped him."
"I thought I was protecting Catherine!"
"YOU HELPED HIM TAKE OUR DAUGHTER!"
His voice echoed through the nursery.
Elizabeth covered her mouth.
I stared at Margaret.
The woman who had tucked me into bed.
The woman who had held me at my mother's funeral.
The woman who had known everything.
Adrian picked up the cassette tape.
"There's a recorder downstairs."
Margaret immediately stepped forward.
"No!"
Adrian looked at her.
"Why?"
She began shaking.
"Because Catherine recorded that tape before she disappeared."
I stared at her.
"Then we're listening to it."
Margaret grabbed my arm.
"Evelyn, please."
I pulled away.
"No."
Adrian examined the cassette.
A small white label was attached.
Three words were written across it.
The Delivery Room.
My heart pounded.
He slipped it into his jacket.
"We'll find a player."
But before we could leave, my phone vibrated.
Another message.
The same unknown number.
You found the box.
I looked around.
Someone was watching us.
A second message appeared.
Ask Adrian why he was paid to keep Elizabeth hidden.
My blood turned cold.
I slowly looked toward him.
He noticed my expression.
"What?"
I held up the phone.
"Is this true?"
His face changed.
"Evelyn—"
"Did someone pay you to keep my sister hidden?"
He remained silent.
Elizabeth stepped away from him.
"I told you."
Adrian closed his eyes.
"There's something I haven't told you."
I laughed bitterly.
"Of course there is."
He looked directly at me.
"Eleven years ago, I worked for Charles Montgomery."
The room fell silent.
I stared at him.
"What?"
"I was hired to locate Elizabeth."
My sister began shaking.
"And you found me."
Adrian nodded.
"Yes."
I felt my heart breaking all over again.
"Then why didn't you bring her home?"
He looked devastated.
"Because when I discovered what Charles was doing, I realized bringing her home would put both of you in danger."
I shook my head.
"You should have told someone."
"I tried."
"WHO?"
He looked toward the doorway.
"Your grandfather."
My father suddenly stood.
"That's impossible."
Adrian stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because my father was already dead."
Adrian slowly removed another photograph from his jacket.
It showed my grandfather sitting inside a private office.
Beside him stood Adrian.
The date was clearly visible.
Three months after my grandfather's funeral.
I couldn't breathe.
Another dead family member.
Another impossible photograph.
Another lie.
Then Adrian said something that made my entire body go cold.
"Your grandfather didn't die when you were told he did."
Before I could respond, footsteps echoed outside the nursery.
Someone was approaching.
Adrian immediately moved toward the door.
"Stay behind me."
My phone vibrated again.
A new message appeared.
Don't let them play the tape.
Then another.
The recording contains the truth about which baby Catherine brought home.
I looked toward Elizabeth.
She was staring at the photographs.
Her hands were trembling.
Then she whispered something that made my stomach drop.
"Evelyn."
"What?"
She held up the photograph of our mother holding two newborn babies.
"Look at the hospital bracelets."
I leaned closer.
One bracelet read Evelyn Whitmore.
The other read Elizabeth Whitmore.
But the names had been crossed out.
And underneath them were two different names.
Before I could read them, the nursery door slowly opened.
Rebecca stood in the doorway.
She was crying.
And behind her stood an elderly man holding a wooden cane.
My father's face went completely white.
"Dad?"
The old man looked directly at Elizabeth.
May you like
Then he whispered:
"Put down that photograph, sweetheart. Because the girl standing beside you isn't who you think she is."
