Chapter 4: The Woman Who Wasn't Serena
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then Ava whispered the question that seemed to crack the entire room open.
"Where is my mother?"
Marcus looked at her.
For the first time since I had seen him, the anger disappeared from his face.
"I don't know."
Ava's eyes filled with tears.
"You said she's alive."
"I said she's not dead."
"That's not the same thing."
Marcus lowered his eyes.
"No. It isn't."
I stepped between them.
"Enough."
My voice echoed through the basement.
"Both of you start talking."
Serena laughed softly.
It wasn't a normal laugh.
It sounded tired.
Almost defeated.
"You really think you're going to get the truth from him?"
I turned toward her.
"Then give me yours."
She stared at me.
I had never seen her look so frightened.
Not because Marcus had a gun.
Because I had finally stopped believing her.
I pointed toward the documents on the desk.
"Who is Ava's biological father?"
Silence.
"Who is her mother?"
Silence.
"Who are you?"
Serena closed her eyes.
Then she whispered:
"My name is Serena."
I shook my head.
"That's not what I asked."
Marcus suddenly said:
"Her name is Evelyn."
I looked at him.
"Who?"
"Your wife."
Serena's expression collapsed.
Marcus continued.
"Her real name is Evelyn Hart."
I stared at Serena.
"Evelyn?"
She didn't deny it.
That was worse than anything.
I felt as if someone had pulled the floor out from underneath me.
Five years.
Five years of marriage.
Five years of shared meals, birthdays, vacations, arguments, late-night conversations.
All built on a name that wasn't hers.
I looked at her.
"Why?"
She finally answered.
"Because Serena Bennett died."
My throat tightened.
"When?"
"Before I met you."
"How?"
She shook her head.
"I can't tell you."
"Can't?"
Marcus stepped forward.
"She won't."
Serena glared at him.
"Stay out of this."
"You've had five years."
"And you've had three."
Marcus's face hardened.
"What does that mean?"
She looked at him.
"You disappeared."
"I was trying to protect them."
"You left me alone."
"You made your choice."
"What choice?"
I shouted.
Both of them stopped.
I could barely control my voice.
"What choice?"
Serena looked at me.
"Five years ago, I was working for a private security company."
I stared at her.
"Security?"
She nodded.
"I was assigned to protect a family."
"Whose family?"
She looked at Ava.
"Yours."
I didn't understand.
"My family?"
"You didn't know it then."
Marcus interrupted.
"You were being watched."
"By who?"
Neither answered.
I stepped toward them.
"By who?"
Marcus finally said:
"Your father."
I froze.
"My father died eleven years ago."
"I know."
"Then how could he be watching me?"
Marcus looked at the folder.
"Because he wasn't dead."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"What?"
Serena whispered:
"Your father disappeared eleven years ago."
I shook my head.
"No. He died."
"That's what you were told."
I stared at her.
"My mother showed me the death certificate."
"Fake."
"My family held a funeral."
"Staged."
I couldn't speak.
Every memory of my father's death suddenly became uncertain.
The closed casket.
The private funeral.
The strange phone call from the hospital.
My mother's refusal to let me see his body.
I had always thought grief had made those memories blurry.
Maybe they weren't blurry.
Maybe they had been manufactured.
I turned toward Marcus.
"Who was my father?"
He looked at me.
"His name was Richard Cross."
"I know his name."
"You know the man he pretended to be."
Marcus reached into his coat and pulled out another photograph.
He placed it on the desk.
It showed my father standing beside several men.
One of them was Marcus.
Another was a man I recognized immediately.
My stomach dropped.
My father's former business partner.
A man who had attended my father's funeral.
A man who had comforted my mother.
A man who had helped me start my first company.
I whispered his name.
"Thomas."
Marcus nodded.
"Thomas has been looking for you for years."
"Why?"
"Because your father took something from him."
"What?"
Marcus looked at Ava.
"A child."
I stared at him.
"That makes no sense."
"It will."
He pointed toward the folder.
"Keep reading."
I opened it.
The next document was dated twenty years earlier.
It was a medical report.
Then another.
Then another.
All related to my father.
I turned another page.
A photograph fell onto the floor.
I picked it up.
It showed my father holding a baby.
A little girl.
On the back was a date.
And a name.
AVA.
I stopped breathing.
I looked at my daughter.
She was staring at the photograph.
"I know that baby."
Her voice was barely audible.
"That's me."
I couldn't answer.
Marcus stepped closer.
"Your father found Ava's mother when she was pregnant."
"Who was she?"
"Her name was Claire."
Ava suddenly gasped.
"Mommy's name?"
"No," Marcus said.
"Your real mother's name."
Ava started crying.
"Claire."
Serena turned away.
I watched her carefully.
"Where is Claire?"
She didn't answer.
I asked again.
"Where is Claire?"
Still nothing.
Marcus said:
"That's the question we've been trying to answer."
"How long?"
"Seven years."
I looked at him.
"Since Ava was born?"
"Since Claire disappeared."
I felt dizzy.
"Then why did Serena take Ava?"
Marcus shook his head.
"She didn't."
Serena suddenly whispered:
"I rescued her."
I turned toward her.
"From what?"
She looked at me.
"From the people who killed Claire."
I froze.
"You said she wasn't dead."
"I don't know if she's alive."
Marcus said quietly:
"Neither do I."
Serena's eyes filled with tears.
"But I know she was alive when I last saw her."
"When?"
"Seven years ago."
"And what happened?"
She looked at Ava.
"I was supposed to take her somewhere safe."
"Where?"
"I never made it."
"Why?"
She swallowed.
"Because someone found us."
"Who?"
She didn't answer.
Marcus did.
"Thomas."
The name hung in the air.
I thought about the photograph.
My father's friend.
My business mentor.
The man who had stood beside my mother at the funeral.
The man who had called me every year on my birthday.
I suddenly remembered something.
Ava had always hated him.
Whenever he visited, she would hide behind Serena.
I'd assumed she was shy.
Now I understood.
Maybe she remembered something.
Maybe children remember things adults desperately want them to forget.
I turned to Ava.
"Do you know Thomas?"
She nodded slowly.
"He's been to the house."
"When?"
"Sometimes."
"Did Mommy let him in?"
Ava looked at Serena.
Serena closed her eyes.
"Yes."
My heart sank.
"Why?"
Ava whispered:
"He always asks Mommy if she found the key."
I looked at the metal key in my hand.
"The key to the basement?"
Ava shook her head.
"No."
She pointed toward the folder.
"The other key."
I looked at Serena.
"What other key?"
She didn't answer.
Then Marcus suddenly looked toward the ceiling.
"Wait."
Everyone went silent.
"What?"
He raised his gun.
"Listen."
I heard it.
Footsteps.
Above us.
Slow.
Heavy.
Someone was walking through the house.
Marcus moved toward the basement stairs.
I grabbed Ava.
"Stay here."
"No!"
She clung to me.
"Daddy, don't go."
Marcus looked at me.
"She's right."
"Why?"
"Because whoever is upstairs knows you're here."
The footsteps stopped.
Then came a sound from above.
A woman's voice.
"Daniel?"
I froze.
I knew that voice.
It was my mother's.
My mother had been dead for nine years.
Ava looked at me.
"Daddy..."
The voice came again.
"Daniel, open the door."
Marcus's face went pale.
Serena whispered:
"They found us."
May you like
The basement lights suddenly went out.
And in the darkness, someone turned the lock from the other side.
