Chapter 8 - The RecordingThey watched the recording in silence.
It had been filmed on an old security camera.
The image was grainy.
A hallway.
A woman running.
Rebecca.
She was carrying Lily.
Behind her came Caleb's mother.
Both women were shouting.
Then Martin appeared.
He was younger.
Angry.
A second man entered.
Caleb recognized him.
His grandfather.
The camera captured only fragments.
“Give me the child.”
“No.”
“She belongs to the trust.”
“She belongs to her mother.”
Then a gunshot.
Rebecca fell.
Caleb's mother screamed.
The screen shook.
Someone grabbed the camera.
The recording ended.
Caleb stared at the blank screen.
His hands were shaking.
“My grandfather killed Rebecca.”
George nodded.
“And your mother?”
“She survived that night.”
Caleb looked at him.
“What happened after?”
George's face hardened.
“She disappeared.”
“Did Martin kill her?”
“I don't know.”
Olivia whispered,
“You do know.”
George looked at her.
She had tears in her eyes.
“You lied to him.”
George lowered his head.
“I thought I was protecting him.”
“From what?”
“The truth.”
Caleb stood.
“Enough.”
He walked toward his father.
“Did my mother survive?”
George nodded.
“Yes.”
Caleb's breath caught.
“She survived?”
“She lived for three more years.”
“Where?”
George couldn't answer.
“Where?”
“At a private facility.”
Caleb's face went pale.
“Why?”
“Because she was afraid they would find you.”
“And what happened to her?”
“She died under another name.”
Caleb stumbled backward.
For years he had believed his mother died when he was twelve.
She had not.
She had spent three years hiding.
Alone.
Protecting him from a family he had thought was his.
Then the front door opened.
A woman stood there.
Older.
Thin.
Holding a cane.
Caleb looked at her.
He didn't recognize her.
But George did.
His face collapsed.
“Clara.”
Olivia gasped.
The woman smiled through tears.
“Hello, Caleb.”
He stepped closer.
“Who are you?”
The woman reached into her coat.
She pulled out a photograph.
It showed a younger Caleb sitting on his mother's lap.
Standing behind them was Clara.
His mother had written on the back:
“Clara knows where I am. Trust her.”
Caleb stared.
“Where have you been?”
Clara whispered,
“Running.”
“From Martin?”
“From all of them.”
She looked toward the babies.
“And I came because it's time you knew the final secret.”
“What secret?”
Clara's eyes moved to Olivia.
Then to George.
“The three babies aren't the only survivors.”
Caleb frowned.
“Who else?”
Clara's voice dropped.
“Your mother.”
The room went silent.
“What?”
May you like
Clara reached for his hand.
“She's alive.”
