Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew My NameSecurity searched the entire property.
Nothing.
No intruder.
No broken lock.
No fingerprints.
No explanation.
Daniel was furious.
“Someone got inside.”
The head of security shook his head.
“Impossible.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Then explain the footprint.”
The man said nothing.
I stood in the hallway holding Ava.
Something was terribly wrong.
Daniel turned to me.
“We're moving you to a secure floor.”
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“No?”
“I want answers.”
“You're not trained for this.”
“This isn't a business problem.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“It's worse.”
The next morning, Daniel canceled all his meetings.
He stayed home.
I noticed he barely slept.
Neither did I.
Around noon, I found him in his father's study.
He was holding an old box.
“What is that?”
He looked up.
“Nothing.”
I walked closer.
Inside was a photograph.
A young woman stood beside Daniel's father.
She looked familiar.
Too familiar.
I picked it up.
“Who is she?”
Daniel froze.
“I don't know.”
“That sounds like a lie.”
“It is.”
He took the photograph.
“This was found in my father's safe.”
“Who is she?”
“I don't know.”
“You just said you lied.”
“I lied about not knowing her.”
I stared at him.
“Then tell me.”
He hesitated.
“My father had an affair twenty years ago.”
“With her?”
“Yes.”
“Is that why she looks familiar?”
Daniel shook his head.
“She was connected to your family.”
“My family?”
He nodded.
“Your father knew mine.”
My blood ran cold.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying again.”
Daniel looked away.
I stepped closer.
“Daniel.”
He finally met my eyes.
“Your name wasn't always Sarah Mitchell.”
My heart stopped.
“What did you say?”
“You were born Sarah Bennett.”
I felt dizzy.
“That isn't possible.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother's name was Mitchell.”
“Your mother changed your surname when she disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
Daniel's expression hardened.
“She didn't die.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“What?”
“She vanished seventeen years ago.”
I stepped backward.
“My mother is dead.”
“So you were told.”
He handed me a file.
Inside were photographs.
Newspaper clippings.
Police reports.
A missing-person notice.
And one photograph that made my knees weak.
It showed my mother holding me.
I was maybe eight years old.
Beside her stood a man.
Daniel's father.
“What did my mother have to do with your father?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at him.
“Then why have you been investigating me?”
“I wasn't.”
“Someone was.”
Daniel's face changed.
Suddenly, he wasn't looking at the file.
He was looking at the door.
A sound came from the hallway.
A soft metallic click.
Daniel grabbed my arm.
“Get down.”
A gunshot shattered the window.
Glass exploded across the room.
Daniel pulled me behind the desk.
Another shot.
“Stay here!”
He drew a weapon from beneath his jacket.
I screamed when he ran toward the hall.
Security flooded the room.
The shooter was gone.
But there was something left on the balcony.
A white envelope.
My name was written on it.
I opened it.
Inside was another photograph.
Me as a child.
Standing beside my mother.
On the back, someone had written:
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHY SHE SOLD YOU.
I stared at the words.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice whispered:
“Sarah.”
I froze.
“Who is this?”
“You don't remember me.”
My heart pounded.
“Tell me who you are.”
“You will.”
“When?”
“When you see the place where you were born.”
“Where?”
The woman laughed softly.
“At Saint Mary's.”
The line went dead.
Daniel entered.
“What happened?”
I looked at him.
“What's Saint Mary's?”
His expression went pale.
“You can't go there.”
“Why?”
“Because Saint Mary's burned down seventeen years ago.”
I swallowed.
“Then why does someone want me to go there?”
Daniel didn't answer.
His phone suddenly rang.
He looked at the screen.
Then his face changed.
“What?”
I watched him listen.
His hand tightened around the phone.
Finally he said:
“How did you get her?”
He looked at me.
May you like
And whispered:
“They have Ethan.”
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