Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
Victor stopped breathing.
The woman stepped fully into the narrow light.
For one impossible second, the world seemed to collapse into a single face.
Elena.
Same dark eyes.
Same small scar beneath her left eyebrow.
Same mouth Victor had kissed the night before she disappeared.
She looked older.
Thinner.
There were faint lines around her eyes that hadn't been there twelve years ago.
But it was her.
Victor lowered his weapon.
“No.”
The woman said nothing.
Marcus stared at her as if he were looking at a ghost.
“Victor…”
“I know.”
His voice barely came out.
The woman took one slow step forward.
“Don't.”
Victor flinched.
That one word was enough.
Elena had always said it that way.
Quietly.
Never afraid.
Even when she was angry.
Even when Victor had been wrong.
Especially when he had been wrong.
He stared at her.
“You died.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I know what they told you.”
“You died in that fire.”
“I wasn't in that fire.”
Victor shook his head.
“I saw your coffin.”
“No.”
“You were identified.”
“No, Victor.”
She stepped closer.
“You were shown a coffin.”
The distinction struck him like a blow.
Marcus moved between them.
“If you're really Elena, tell me something only she would know.”
The woman looked at him.
“You used to sleep with a gun under your pillow.”
Marcus froze.
Elena continued.
“You stopped after Victor found you cleaning it at three in the morning and told you that if you were going to kill someone, you should at least get some sleep first.”
Marcus slowly lowered his weapon.
His face had gone pale.
“That was twelve years ago.”
Elena nodded.
“I remember.”
Victor couldn't move.
He had imagined this moment hundreds of times.
In some fantasies, Elena returned.
In others, she called him.
Sometimes she appeared at the front door.
Sometimes she stood beside him in his dreams.
But never like this.
Never in a hidden passage beneath his house.
Never after his entire life had been built around the certainty that she was dead.
He whispered her name.
“Elena.”
She closed her eyes.
A tear rolled down her cheek.
“Yes.”
Victor stepped toward her.
She raised one hand.
He stopped.
“Don't touch me yet.”
“Why?”
“Because if you touch me, you'll believe this is real.”
Victor stared.
“It is real.”
“You don't know that.”
He looked at Marcus.
Marcus slowly shook his head.
Victor turned back.
“What are you doing here?”
Elena glanced toward the room behind him.
“I came because of the child.”
Victor's expression hardened.
“Poppy?”
“Yes.”
“Who is she?”
Elena's eyes moved toward the photograph on the wall.
“The question is not who she is.”
“Then what is it?”
“Why everyone has been willing to kill for her.”
Victor's stomach tightened.
“What does she have?”
Elena looked directly at him.
“Your blood.”
Silence.
Victor stared at her.
Marcus took one step backward.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Elena's gaze remained on Victor.
“She is your daughter.”
Victor laughed once.
It wasn't amusement.
It was disbelief.
“No.”
“Elena—”
“You had a daughter.”
Victor's face changed.
“What are you talking about?”
Elena looked away.
“Twelve years ago, I was pregnant.”
Victor stopped.
He remembered.
The doctor.
The hospital.
Elena telling him she was tired.
The argument they had the week before her supposed death.
He remembered every detail.
But he remembered losing the baby.
Or being told she had lost the baby.
“You said we lost her.”
“I was told you would believe that.”
Victor's hands curled into fists.
“Who told you?”
“Gregory.”
The name landed heavily.
Victor's eyes darkened.
“Gregory knew?”
“He knew everything.”
“Then why did he tell me the baby died?”
“Because the baby was worth more alive than dead.”
Marcus looked toward the photographs.
“Poppy.”
Elena nodded.
“She was taken before you ever knew she existed.”
Victor stared at her.
“Where was she?”
“With Hannah.”
“Hannah was there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Hannah saved her.”
Victor's expression changed.
“Elena, Hannah is the woman Gregory just took.”
“I know.”
“Then we find her.”
“You can't.”
Victor stepped forward.
“Don't tell me what I can't do.”
Elena looked at him with the same sad expression she had worn during their last argument twelve years earlier.
“If you go after Hannah the way you normally go after your enemies, you will kill the only person who knows where Poppy came from.”
Victor's anger faltered.
“Then tell me where she is.”
“I don't know.”
Victor stared.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I don't know where Gregory took her.”
“Then what do you know?”
Elena looked toward the old photograph of the baby.
“I know why he took her tonight.”
Victor waited.
“He found out Poppy remembered something.”
“What?”
Elena's voice dropped.
“The night you thought I died.”
Victor felt his chest tighten.
“What does she remember?”
“Not the fire.”
Elena looked at him.
“She remembers who carried her away.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“Poppy was there?”
“Yes.”
“She was a baby.”
“She was six months old.”
Victor stared.
“Then how could she remember?”
“Children don't always remember faces.”
Elena pointed toward the gray rabbit lying on the old chair.
“They remember fear.”
Victor looked at it.
“What happened that night?”
Elena hesitated.
“Someone came for you.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
She swallowed.
“I knew who ordered it.”
Victor's expression became cold.
“Who?”
Before she could answer, Marcus suddenly raised his hand.
“Wait.”
Everyone froze.
He pointed toward the hidden passage.
A faint sound was coming from somewhere behind the wall.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Three knocks.
Pause.
Three knocks.
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“What is that?”
Elena's face changed.
“Don't open it.”
Victor looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because that's how they know you're here.”
Marcus stepped toward the wall.
“Who's they?”
Elena whispered,
“The people who have been watching this house for twelve years.”
Victor looked at the old photograph again.
“Then why bring me here?”
“I didn't.”
Victor's eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“I didn't send the key.”
He looked at the key in his hand.
Elena shook her head.
“I never put it in the rabbit.”
Victor stared at Marcus.
Marcus looked equally confused.
“Then who did?”
A soft click came from behind them.
Victor spun around.
The hidden door was closing.
He lunged forward and caught it.
Something moved in the darkness beyond.
“Stop!”
Victor pushed the door open.
The passage was empty.
Marcus swept his flashlight across the floor.
Nothing.
Then he saw a small object.
He crouched.
A child's bracelet.
Silver.
Victor recognized it immediately.
His mother's bracelet.
The same one from the photograph.
Marcus turned it over.
Something was engraved inside.
Victor took it from him.
Three letters.
V.C.
His initials.
But underneath them was another line.
P.B.
Poppy Bell.
Victor's fingers tightened.
“Elena.”
She looked at him.
“Why would my family bracelet have Poppy's initials?”
Elena didn't answer.
Victor stepped toward her.
“You said she was my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Then why was she called Bell?”
“Because Castellano would have gotten her killed.”
Victor stared.
“By whom?”
Elena's eyes filled with fear.
“Your family.”
The words struck harder than any bullet.
Victor shook his head.
“My family is dead.”
“Not all of them.”
Marcus immediately reached for his phone.
“Victor.”
Victor turned.
Marcus held up the screen.
“I recovered the security footage.”
“From the gate?”
“No.”
Marcus looked toward Elena.
“From inside the nursery.”
Victor's blood ran cold.
He took the phone.
The footage showed the nursery at 11:18 p.m.
Poppy was sitting on the floor with her rabbit.
Hannah entered.
She knelt.
They spoke.
Then the image froze.
A man walked into the frame.
Victor recognized him instantly.
Gregory.
But Gregory wasn't alone.
Another man entered behind him.
Victor leaned closer.
The second man turned toward the camera.
Victor stopped.
He knew that face.
He had seen it every day for years.
The man smiled directly at the camera.
Marcus whispered,
“That's impossible.”
Victor's voice became almost inaudible.
“Delete the footage.”
Marcus looked at him.
“What?”
“Delete it.”
“Why?”
“Because if he knows the camera exists, he'll know we're watching.”
Marcus hesitated.
Then he looked at the timestamp.
“Victor…”
“What?”
“This footage wasn't recorded tonight.”
Victor looked at the screen.
The date was twelve years old.
October 17.
The same date written on the photograph.
Victor's pulse hammered.
Marcus scrolled.
There were hundreds of files.
Different years.
Different rooms.
The nursery.
The kitchen.
The staff quarters.
Victor's study.
His bedroom.
Someone had been watching the estate for twelve years.
And they had recorded everything.
Victor looked at Elena.
“You knew.”
She shook her head.
“I knew someone was watching.”
“You knew about the cameras?”
“Not all of them.”
“How long?”
“Since the night I disappeared.”
Victor stared.
“Then why didn't you come back?”
Elena's face crumpled.
“Because they had Poppy.”
Victor went still.
“They threatened to kill her?”
“They didn't threaten me.”
She looked directly at him.
“They threatened to kill you.”
Victor's jaw tightened.
“Why?”
“Because they knew you would tear the city apart looking for me.”
Elena took another step toward him.
“And they knew exactly what you would do if you found out you had a daughter.”
Victor whispered,
“What would I have done?”
Elena's eyes filled with tears.
“You would have trusted the wrong people.”
A noise came from upstairs.
A door slammed.
Marcus immediately turned.
Victor's expression changed.
“Poppy.”
They ran.
Victor reached the main staircase first.
The guard who had been watching Poppy was lying unconscious on the floor.
Victor's heart stopped.
“Poppy!”
No answer.
He ran toward the room.
The door was open.
The bed was empty.
The rabbit was gone.
Victor searched the room.
“Poppy!”
Marcus entered behind him.
“She couldn't have left alone.”
Victor looked down.
Small wet footprints crossed the floor.
They led toward the window.
Victor rushed to it.
The window was open.
Rain poured inside.
Marcus looked over the sill.
“There are no footprints outside.”
Victor turned.
“What?”
Marcus pointed toward the floor.
The footprints stopped at the wall.
Not the window.
The wall.
Victor stared.
Then he saw something scratched into the paint.
A child's handwriting.
Three uneven letters.
VIC.
Victor's face went pale.
A tiny voice came from somewhere behind the wall.
“Mr. Victor…”
He turned toward the sound.
“Poppy?”
Nothing.
Then the voice came again.
Closer.
“Mr. Victor, don't open the door.”
Victor froze.
Marcus raised his flashlight.
There was a second hidden panel behind the wardrobe.
Victor stepped toward it.
Elena suddenly grabbed his arm.
“Victor, no.”
He looked at her.
“She's behind it.”
“I know.”
“Then I'm opening it.”
Elena's grip tightened.
“If you open that door, they will know you found her.”
Victor looked into her eyes.
“I don't care.”
A small metallic click came from inside the wall.
May you like
Then Poppy whispered one final sentence.
“Mommy said the man behind the door is—”
