Chapter 12 - The House With No AddressThe Westbrook house looked abandoned.
Broken fence.
Dark windows.
Overgrown garden.
But there were fresh tire tracks in the mud.
Someone had been here recently.
Ethan checked the perimeter.
“Stay behind me.”
I almost laughed.
“I've spent my entire life behind other people.”
“Tonight is not the night to change that.”
We entered.
The smell of damp wood and dust filled the hallway.
Then I saw it.
A child's handprint on the wall.
Faded.
Tiny.
Paige touched it.
“I remember.”
“What?”
“Mom brought us here.”
“When?”
“After Dad left.”
I stared.
“She told us it was a game.”
A memory returned.
A flashlight.
A blanket fort.
Mom whispering:
“Never tell anyone about this room.”
We followed Paige to the back of the house.
She pushed aside a wooden cabinet.
Behind it was a narrow door.
No handle.
Only a keyhole.
Ethan held up the brass key from my wedding dress.
It fit.
The door opened.
Inside was a small room.
Three boxes.
A rocking horse.
A child's table.
And dozens of photographs.
My mother had built a secret archive of our childhood.
One photograph showed Paige and me asleep together.
Another showed Dad holding both of us.
Another showed Mom smiling.
The final photograph showed Margaret.
Holding a suitcase.
Standing beside a black car.
A little girl was beside her.
The girl was me.
I stepped closer.
“This happened?”
Paige whispered:
“I remember the car.”
Ethan opened one of the boxes.
Inside were legal documents.
Adoption papers.
Trust agreements.
Medical records.
And one unsigned contract.
I read it.
The buyer's name had been redacted.
But the initials remained.
R.V.
Ethan froze.
“What's wrong?”
“R.V.”
“Who is that?”
“My grandfather.”
I looked at him.
“Your grandfather?”
“No.”
“Then whose?”
He stared at the page.
“Marcus's.”
My stomach dropped.
Marcus's real name was Richard Vincent Kane.
R.V.
The buyer.
I turned to my sister.
“Your father's family was involved.”
Paige shook her head.
“I didn't know.”
A sound came from upstairs.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Heavy.
We all froze.
Then a man's voice called:
“Clara.”
I knew it.
Marcus.
Ethan moved in front of me.
“Stay back.”
Marcus appeared at the top of the stairs.
No weapon.
No anger.
Just exhaustion.
“You finally found it.”
Paige whispered:
“You.”
Marcus looked at her.
“I never wanted you in this.”
“You used me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were the only person your mother thought she could still save.”
Paige started crying.
“You lied to me.”
“I did.”
“You said Clara took everything.”
“I needed you to hate her.”
“Why?”
“Because hate makes people predictable.”
I stared at him.
“And Margaret?”
“She thinks she's the mastermind.”
“Isn't she?”
“No.”
“Then who is?”
Marcus looked at my father.
Daniel stepped forward.
“What did you do?”
Marcus smiled sadly.
“Nothing.”
My father lunged.
Ethan stopped him.
Marcus continued.
“The person you should fear isn't me.”
I felt cold.
“Who?”
Marcus looked at me.
“Your mother.”
I stared.
“She planned everything.”
“That isn't possible.”
“She knew she was dying.”
“What?”
“She had cancer?”
Ethan looked shocked.
My mother had told everyone she had chronic heart problems.
Marcus shook his head.
“She knew she had months.”
I felt tears form.
“She was dying.”
“Yes.”
“And she knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't she tell us?”
“Because she didn't want you to waste the time you had left asking why.”
He looked at Paige.
“She wanted one last thing.”
“What?”
“To make you sisters again.”
Marcus reached into his coat.
He pulled out a final envelope.
And handed it to me.
“Your mother wrote this for you both.”
On the front were two names.
CLARA.
PAIGE.
The envelope was sealed with blue wax.
Mom's favorite color.
I opened it.
There were only four words.
Forgive each other.
May you like
Then the house lights came on.
And Margaret stepped out from the darkness.
