Chapter 4 - The Name Hidden In My Mother's Letter
"Victor."
My father's voice was barely a whisper.
But everyone in the room heard it.
Emma covered her mouth.
The twins looked at each other.
And I stared at Richard.
Because I had never heard that name before.
Not from him.
Not from anyone.
"Who is Victor?"
Richard didn't answer.
That was becoming a pattern.
Everyone had secrets.
Everyone had explanations.
But nobody had the courage to say the truth.
I stood up.
"Enough."
My voice echoed through the small hospital room.
"My entire life has been decided by people who thought they knew what was best for me."
I looked at my father.
"You disappeared."
Then Emma.
"You hid my children."
Then the letter.
"My mother left a message telling me there was something you both were hiding."
My hands tightened around the paper.
"And now someone named Victor is sending me messages about the night she died."
Nobody spoke.
I looked at Richard.
"Tell me."
He lowered his eyes.
"Victor Hale."
The name meant nothing.
But the reaction on Emma's face meant everything.
She knew him.
"Emma."
She looked away.
"How do you know that name?"
Her silence lasted too long.
That was enough.
"Emma."
She closed her eyes.
"I met him once."
"Once?"
She nodded slowly.
"Before we separated."
My chest tightened.
"Why?"
She looked at the twins.
Then back at me.
"Because he was the person your father hired."
The room went silent.
I looked at Richard.
"You hired him?"
My father didn't deny it.
"I hired him to investigate something."
"What?"
Richard took a deep breath.
"Your mother’s death."
The words hit harder than I expected.
My mother had died when I was twenty-six.
A car accident.
That was the official story.
A rainy road.
A careless driver.
A tragic accident.
That was what everyone told me.
That was what I believed.
"You said she lost control of the car."
Richard looked away.
"I lied."
My heart dropped.
The twins moved closer to Emma.
They sensed the tension.
Children always knew when something was broken.
Even when adults pretended everything was fine.
"What really happened?"
Richard looked at the letter in my hand.
"Your mother found out about something."
"What?"
He hesitated.
"Something involving our family."
I stepped closer.
"Stop speaking in pieces."
My father looked at me.
For the first time, I saw regret.
"Your mother discovered that someone had been manipulating our medical records."
I frowned.
"What records?"
"The fertility records."
The room became cold.
"Wait."
I looked at Emma.
"The reason we thought we couldn't have children..."
Richard nodded.
"Was not an accident."
My mind went back to all those years.
All those appointments.
All those results.
All those nights Emma cried while I held her.
Someone had caused it?
Someone had made us believe something that wasn't true?
"Who?"
Richard didn't answer immediately.
Then he said:
"Victor."
I felt my hands shake.
"Why would someone do that?"
My father looked at the twins.
"Because Victor believed the Carter family name belonged to him."
I stared.
"What does that mean?"
Richard didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at the door.
Like he was afraid someone might be listening.
"Not here."
The anger returned instantly.
"Don't."
I pointed at him.
"Don't say that."
His face changed.
"I know."
"No, you don't."
My voice cracked.
"You don't know what it's like to spend years thinking you failed."
I looked at the boys.
"You don't know what it's like to find out your children existed after they already learned how to walk."
My father looked broken.
"I know I hurt you."
"Then fix it."
He nodded.
"I will."
Richard reached into his pocket.
He pulled out a small key.
Old.
Metal.
Worn from years of use.
"What is that?"
"A storage unit."
I looked at him.
"What's inside?"
"Everything I couldn't tell you."
Emma stood suddenly.
"No."
Everyone looked at her.
Her expression was terrified.
"Emma?"
She shook her head.
"You don't understand."
Richard looked at her.
"Neither do you."
Her eyes filled with anger.
"You promised me."
"I promised to protect Lucas."
"And look what happened."
The words hung between them.
I looked from one person to the other.
"You two have been working together?"
Emma didn't answer.
Richard did.
"Not exactly."
That answer made everything worse.
I grabbed the key.
"Where is this storage unit?"
Richard wrote down an address.
"Thirty minutes from here."
I looked at the twins.
"They're coming with us."
Emma immediately shook her head.
"No."
I turned.
"They are my sons."
The words came out naturally.
The first time I had ever said them.
Emma froze.
So did I.
Because hearing myself say it made it real.
My sons.
The boys looked at me.
One of them smiled slightly.
The smallest smile.
But it was enough to break something inside me.
Then Richard's phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
"What?"
He stood.
"That's impossible."
I watched him.
"Who is it?"
He didn't answer.
He slowly turned the phone toward me.
A photograph was attached to the message.
It showed our hospital room.
Taken from outside.
Taken minutes ago.
All of us were in the picture.
Me.
Emma.
The twins.
Richard.
Under the photograph was one sentence:
"You should have left the past buried."
The room went silent.
Then another message arrived.
This time, there was no picture.
Only an address.
Richard read it.
And his face went pale.
Because it was the address of the house where my mother died.
May you like
And underneath it was written:
"Come alone, Lucas. Your mother left something for you..."
