Chapter 6 - The Dead Woman Was Her SisterVictoria could not speak.
She did not have a sister.
At least, not one who had been alive.
Her mother had told her that Victoria was an only child.
Charles had never mentioned a sister.
Daniel must have seen the confusion.
“Your father's records say otherwise.”
“My father had another daughter?”
“A daughter named Claire.”
Victoria shook her head.
“No.”
Daniel placed a photograph on the table.
Two little girls stood in front of a garden.
One was Victoria.
The other was younger.
Same dark hair.
Same blue-green eyes.
Victoria touched the photograph.
“I've never seen this.”
“Because most of the family archive was destroyed.”
“Why don't I remember her?”
“You were four.”
Victoria stared.
Something flickered.
A red bicycle.
A yellow dress.
A little girl hiding behind a tree.
Then darkness.
She pressed her fingers against her forehead.
“Claire.”
Charles moved.
“Daniel, enough.”
Victoria turned.
“You knew.”
Charles said nothing.
“You knew I had a sister.”
“I knew about the records.”
“Don't lie to me again.”
Charles looked exhausted.
“I never met her.”
“My father did.”
“Yes.”
“Then why was she buried under Rosalind's name?”
Daniel answered.
“Because Claire was the only adult with evidence against your father.”
Victoria stared.
“What evidence?”
“Ledger books.”
“Against him?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't she go to the police?”
“Because she disappeared first.”
Victoria turned to Rosie.
The child was silent.
“Did Eleanor know Claire?”
Rosie nodded.
“She told me Claire was the first person who tried to save Mama.”
Victoria’s throat tightened.
“How?”
“She found Mama crying in the basement.”
“What basement?”
Rosie looked toward the old house.
“The house with the locked room.”
Victoria remembered.
One room in the basement had never been opened.
Her father had forbidden anyone from entering it.
After his death, Charles had said the room contained old wine.
Victoria had never checked.
Daniel immediately said, “Show me.”
They went downstairs.
The basement smelled of dust and wet stone.
At the end of the corridor was a steel door.
Victoria pulled the handle.
Locked.
Charles followed.
“You don't need to do this.”
Victoria looked over her shoulder.
“You keep saying that.”
Daniel examined the lock.
“Old.”
He pulled a tool kit from his bag.
Bruno stood nearby.
Within minutes, the lock gave way.
The room beyond was small.
Empty shelves.
A desk.
Boxes.
And a single camera mounted in the corner.
Victoria stopped.
“Camera?”
Daniel frowned.
“Old surveillance system.”
Charles looked sick.
“I never knew this room existed.”
Victoria turned.
“Of course you did.”
She entered.
On the desk was a tape recorder.
Daniel pressed play.
Static.
Then a woman’s voice.
Claire.
“If anyone finds this, it means they survived.”
Victoria stopped breathing.
Claire continued.
“Father has been hiding children.”
Victoria covered her mouth.
“Not only children,” the voice said. “He hides the records of every child transferred through the foundation.”
Daniel looked at Victoria.
Claire continued.
“Rosalind is next.”
A baby began crying in the background.
Victoria froze.
“That is her.”
The recording continued.
“Father knows the trust belongs to her when she turns eighteen.”
Another voice appeared.
Eleanor.
“Claire, we have to leave now.”
Claire answered:
“The baby goes first.”
Then a man’s voice.
Charles.
“Give me the child.”
Victoria turned.
Charles stood in the doorway.
His face was white.
The recording continued.
Eleanor screamed.
Claire shouted.
Then a crash.
The tape stopped.
Victoria stared at Charles.
“You were there.”
Charles closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“You took my baby.”
“I didn't.”
“You were on the recording.”
“I was trying to get her out.”
Victoria moved toward him.
“Where?”
“From your father.”
“Then why did you let me bury an empty coffin?”
Charles didn't answer.
Daniel stepped forward.
“Because he needed Victoria to believe Rosalind was dead.”
Victoria’s voice trembled.
“Why?”
Charles finally looked at her.
“Because your father had a contract.”
“What contract?”
“A contract with the trustees.”
Daniel stiffened.
“What kind?”
Charles whispered:
“If Rosalind died before eighteen, the Hale estate remained under your father’s control.”
“And if she lived?”
“It transferred.”
Victoria felt sick.
“So my father ordered her death.”
“Yes.”
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
“And Eleanor saved her.”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened to Claire?”
Charles looked at the old camera.
“She was killed.”
“By whom?”
Charles said nothing.
Rosie suddenly pointed toward the ceiling.
“He's here.”
Everyone turned.
“What?”
Rosie’s face was terrified.
“He came with us.”
Daniel reached for his weapon.
“Who came?”
A soft sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
Then the basement lights went out.
Something heavy slammed into Daniel.
Bruno shouted.
Victoria grabbed Rosie.
Someone ran past them.
A door opened.
Then closed.
Daniel switched on his flashlight.
“Everyone okay?”
Victoria counted.
Daniel.
Bruno.
Rosie.
Charles.
Then she froze.
One person was missing.
Bruno.
And from behind the steel door came a muffled cry.
“HELP!”
Daniel rushed over.
They opened the door.
Bruno was tied to a chair.
Blood ran from his forehead.
He pointed toward the wall.
“Someone took the tape.”
Daniel turned.
The recorder was gone.
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But beneath it, written in fresh red ink, were six words:
CLAIRE DID NOT DIE THAT NIGHT.
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