Chapter 4 - Jonathan ran downstairs.Mara followed.
Emma stayed close behind him.
The foyer was empty except for Celeste.
She stood beside the grand staircase, staring at something on the floor.
Richard was there too.
His hands were shaking.
Jonathan looked down.
A man lay motionless across the marble.
Blood spread beneath his head.
Celeste stepped backward.
“I didn't do this.”
Jonathan stared at her.
“Who is he?”
Richard swallowed.
“I don't know.”
Jonathan looked closer.
The man's face was unfamiliar.
But something about his clothing caught Jonathan's attention.
A hospital ID badge.
L. CROSS MEMORIAL MEDICAL CENTER.
Jonathan froze.
“Hospital security?”
Richard nodded.
“He came here twenty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
Richard looked at Celeste.
“He said he knew where the second child was.”
Jonathan's eyes narrowed.
“And then?”
Celeste shook her head.
“He collapsed.”
Mara knelt beside the man.
“He's alive.”
Jonathan called emergency services.
While waiting, he searched the man's pockets.
A wallet.
No identification.
A key.
And a folded note.
Jonathan opened it.
Only one sentence.
ASK CELESTE WHO SIGNED THE TRANSFER.
He looked up.
Celeste had already gone pale.
“Who signed what?”
She said nothing.
Jonathan stepped toward her.
“Who signed the transfer?”
Richard intervened.
“Jonathan, now isn't the time.”
Jonathan shoved his hand away.
“Everything you've said for six years has been a lie.”
Celeste flinched.
Emma was watching.
Jonathan lowered his voice.
“I'm done protecting you.”
Celeste looked at Emma.
“Not here.”
“Then where?”
“Upstairs.”
“No.”
He pointed toward the envelope.
“Right here.”
Guests who remained were being escorted from the ballroom.
The elderly woman, Margaret, stood silently near the wall.
Jonathan noticed she was crying.
“Margaret.”
She looked at him.
“Tell me.”
Margaret shook her head.
Celeste whispered,
“You promised.”
Margaret answered,
“I promised a dying woman.”
Jonathan's breath caught.
“A dying woman?”
Margaret looked toward Mara.
“Emma's mother.”
Mara stepped forward.
“When did I almost die?”
Margaret looked ashamed.
“The night they took your baby.”
Mara went still.
“You told me my baby died.”
“I was told to say that.”
“By whom?”
Margaret looked at Celeste.
Celeste closed her eyes.
Jonathan turned toward her.
“You did this.”
Celeste finally whispered,
“Yes.”
The word struck harder than a scream.
Emma looked at her.
“You took me?”
Celeste’s face crumpled.
“I saved you.”
“You took me away from Mommy.”
Mara sobbed.
“I am your mother.”
Emma looked between them.
Her small face twisted in confusion.
Jonathan knelt.
“Emma, you don't have to decide anything tonight.”
But Emma wasn't looking at him.
She was looking at Celeste.
“Why did you lie?”
Celeste couldn't answer.
The hospital man groaned.
Everyone turned.
His eyes opened.
He looked directly at Jonathan.
“She's still alive.”
Jonathan stepped closer.
“Who?”
“The other girl.”
Celeste gasped.
The man grabbed Jonathan’s wrist.
“Don't let them reach her first.”
“Where is she?”
The man tried to speak.
His eyes rolled upward.
“Basement.”
Then he collapsed again.
Jonathan looked at Celeste.
“Your mansion has a basement.”
Celeste shook her head.
“Not anymore.”
Jonathan stared.
“What does that mean?”
Richard answered.
“There used to be one.”
Jonathan felt the floor disappear beneath him.
“Show me.”
They went through a hidden door behind the library shelves.
A staircase descended into darkness.
Jonathan switched on his phone light.
The air smelled damp.
Mara followed.
Emma remained upstairs with Margaret.
At the bottom, Jonathan found an old metal door.
The lock had been replaced recently.
He broke it with a fireplace poker.
Inside was a room filled with boxes.
Hospital files.
Photographs.
Clothing.
Toys.
And dozens of sealed envelopes.
Mara began crying.
Jonathan opened the nearest box.
Inside were photographs of Emma at six months old.
Then one year.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
But none had been taken in Jonathan's house.
The settings were unfamiliar.
Mara touched one.
“Someone was watching her.”
Jonathan nodded.
Then he found a folder labeled:
SUBJECT B.
He opened it.
Inside was a photograph of another little girl.
Six years old.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Same scar.
Jonathan stared.
“No.”
Mara stepped closer.
The girl in the photograph was smiling.
On the back was written:
ELENA VALE.
Mara's hands shook.
“She has your daughter's face.”
Jonathan looked at the folder.
There was one more document.
A handwritten note.
If Jonathan ever learns the truth, relocate Subject B immediately.
Jonathan looked up.
“Who wrote this?”
Mara pointed toward the signature.
Richard Vale.
Jonathan's face hardened.
They rushed upstairs.
Richard was gone.
Celeste was gone.
Only Emma remained.
And on the table beside her was another note.
Jonathan snatched it up.
May you like
Three words.
COME ALONE, DADDY.
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