Chapter 6 - The Woman Who Died
I Had Spent Seventeen Years Calling a Lie Home
Rowan raised his weapon.
Dad whispered, “There isn't another exit.”
“Then we're trapped,” I said.
“No,” Mom replied.
She pointed at the wall.
“There is.”
She pressed a brick.
A hidden panel opened.
A narrow passage disappeared into darkness.
Dad stared at her.
“You never told me about that.”
“I never told anyone.”
We squeezed through.
The tunnel closed behind us.
For the next ten minutes we crawled through dirt and concrete until we emerged behind an abandoned warehouse.
A car waited there.
We drove without speaking.
Finally, Rowan asked, “Who was Elena Vale?”
Dad answered.
“She was an investigative accountant.”
“And?”
“She uncovered the original money network.”
Mom stared out the window.
“She was pregnant with Lyra.”
I closed my eyes.
Every word felt impossible.
“Why would you adopt me?”
Dad swallowed.
“Because Elena knew they would come for you.”
“Who?”
“The network.”
“She was going to expose them.”
“Yes.”
“She died.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
Dad's voice cracked.
“Because we thought secrecy would keep you alive.”
I turned toward Mom.
“And you?”
She stared at the floor.
“I wasn't supposed to survive either.”
Ivy touched my hand.
“Lyra…”
I looked at her.
She had tears in her eyes.
“Does that mean we're not sisters?”
I pulled her against me.
“You're my sister.”
She started crying.
Dad looked away.
Then Rowan's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed immediately.
“Where?”
A pause.
“Get every unit there.”
He hung up.
“What?” I asked.
“Your house is on fire.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Someone broke in.”
“Is Mom's laptop there?”
“Yes.”
“Then they're destroying the evidence.”
Rowan shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“They aren't destroying it.”
He looked at Dad.
“They're searching.”
Dad's face went pale.
“For what?”
Rowan replied,
“Whatever you hid that they still need.”
Dad looked at me.
“There's one thing.”
“What?”
“The original birth record.”
“Where?”
“In Elena's old hospital file.”
“Where is that?”
“St. Catherine's.”
Rowan shook his head.
“That hospital closed twelve years ago.”
Dad looked at him.
“Not the hospital.”
“The archive.”
That evening, we reached the abandoned medical archive.
Rows of dusty file cabinets stretched into darkness.
Dad led us to a room at the back.
He pulled open a drawer.
Nothing.
He opened another.
Nothing.
“Someone got here first,” Rowan said.
Dad's breathing changed.
“Ivy,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Think about Mom.”
“What?”
“She's always been obsessed with records.”
I remembered a childhood moment.
Mom teaching me to write my full name.
She had stopped me halfway through.
“Never forget your middle name.”
At the time, it felt meaningless.
Now it felt like a clue.
I searched the cabinet.
Then I noticed a label.
“L.”
I opened it.
Inside was one envelope.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Elena.
She was holding a newborn baby.
Me.
On the back she had written:
“Lyra, if you ever see this, remember one thing. Your mother did not die in the crash.”
I stopped breathing.
Dad stared at the sentence.
Mom covered her mouth.
Rowan read it again.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message appeared.
From a number saved under an old contact I had never seen before.
May you like
ELENA VALE.
“Don't believe Adrian.”
