Chapter 4 - The Woman in the PhotographIsabella did not sleep.
The mansion remained under lockdown.
Security guards patrolled every corridor, but the silence inside the Vale estate felt more dangerous than noise.
At 3:17 a.m., Isabella woke to footsteps outside her bedroom.
Slow.
Measured.
They stopped at her door.
She held her breath.
The handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
A whisper came through the wood.
“Isabella?”
Nathan.
She opened the door.
He stood holding something.
A torn piece of paper.
“I found this under the study desk.”
Isabella took it.
Three words were written in blue ink.
SHE IS YOUR AUNT.
Isabella looked at him.
“What does it mean?”
“Nobody knows.”
“I do.”
A voice came from the hallway.
Celeste.
Isabella stiffened.
Her sister stood beneath the dim wall lights.
“Come with me.”
“No.”
Celeste looked at Nathan.
“This concerns your family too.”
Nathan narrowed his eyes.
“What do you know?”
Celeste ignored him.
She looked at Isabella.
“Mother wasn't supposed to die.”
Isabella's blood turned cold.
“Explain.”
Celeste approached slowly.
“She discovered what Father had done.”
“What did he do?”
“That's the question.”
Celeste glanced toward the ceiling cameras.
“Not here.”
They followed her through a narrow corridor into the old music room.
Celeste locked the door.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she removed a small key from her necklace.
She opened an antique cabinet.
Inside was a black box.
She placed it on the piano.
“Mother left this for me.”
Isabella stepped closer.
“Why didn't you show me?”
“Because I was afraid.”
“Of Father?”
Celeste nodded.
“Of him.”
She opened the box.
Inside were letters.
Photographs.
A hospital bracelet.
And a newspaper clipping dated nine years earlier.
Isabella picked it up.
Her mother's death had officially been ruled a cardiac event.
But written across the newspaper in red ink were four words:
NOT A NATURAL DEATH.
Isabella looked at Celeste.
“Who wrote that?”
“Mother.”
Silence.
Then Celeste handed her a letter.
The handwriting was unmistakable.
Isabella's hands trembled.
The letter contained only one sentence.
If anything happens to me, do not trust Richard.
Isabella felt the room tilt.
“My father…”
Celeste interrupted.
“There's more.”
She pulled out a second photograph.
This one showed Richard standing beside the woman from the previous photograph.
The mysterious aunt.
On the back was a name.
Vivienne Marlow.
Isabella frowned.
“Marlow?”
Celeste nodded.
“Our mother's maiden name was Marlow.”
Isabella looked confused.
“Then why did Father say she was an only child?”
“Because Vivienne disappeared.”
“Where?”
“We don't know.”
Nathan examined the photograph.
“Why would Richard hide her?”
Celeste looked at him.
“Because Vivienne wasn't just Mother's sister.”
She paused.
“She was Father's first wife.”
Isabella stared.
The room seemed to lose oxygen.
“That isn't possible.”
“It is.”
“Before Mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he marry Mother?”
“Money.”
Isabella shook her head.
“No.”
Celeste reached into the box and produced a birth certificate.
The name on it made Isabella stop breathing.
ISABELLA MARLOW.
Her own name.
But beneath it was another line.
Mother: Vivienne Marlow.
Father: Richard Vale.
Isabella stared at the paper.
“That's not real.”
Celeste's face twisted with grief.
“Father changed your records.”
Nathan looked from the document to Isabella.
“Then who is Helena?”
Celeste answered quietly.
“Your mother.”
Isabella looked confused.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
Celeste took a breath.
“Vivienne had a daughter before she disappeared.”
She pointed at Isabella.
“You.”
Suddenly footsteps thundered outside the music room.
Someone grabbed the door handle.
Celeste's expression changed.
“Put the papers away.”
“Who is it?”
“I don't know.”
The door shook violently.
Then came a man's voice.
“Open the door.”
Richard.
Celeste looked at Isabella.
“Now you understand.”
The doorknob twisted.
“We have to leave.”
Celeste grabbed Isabella's hand.
But before they reached the hidden passage behind the piano, the lights went out.
May you like
A shot rang through the mansion.
And someone screamed.
