CHAPTER 7: THE SECOND GIRL
The gunshot echoed through the corridor.
Sophie screamed.
I dropped to my knees and pulled her against my chest.
“Stay down!”
Another shot didn't come.
Instead, there was silence.
A terrible, unnatural silence.
I held my breath.
Then I heard footsteps.
Fast.
Coming toward us.
I grabbed Sophie's hand.
“Run.”
We moved down the corridor.
Behind us, someone shouted:
“STOP!”
I didn't turn around.
We reached the ballroom doors.
They burst open.
Guests were running in every direction.
Tables had been overturned.
Champagne glasses covered the floor.
Margaret stood near the center of the room, frozen.
Ethan was beside her.
“Where's Preston?” I shouted.
Ethan looked around.
“I don't know.”
“Where's my uncle?”
“Gone.”
I looked toward the corridor.
My uncle had disappeared.
So had Daniel.
But something else had changed.
The mysterious black handbag was gone.
The photograph was still in my pocket.
And the memory card was still in my hand.
I pulled Sophie behind a pillar.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Stay here.”
“Mommy…”
“I need to find out who fired that gun.”
“You're leaving me?”
I knelt.
“I won't be far.”
She grabbed my wrist.
“Don't go.”
Her eyes were full of fear.
I couldn't leave her.
Not after everything that had happened.
I looked toward Ethan.
“Take her.”
He immediately nodded.
“I've got her.”
I hesitated.
Sophie looked at me.
“I'll be right back.”
Then I stood.
Margaret approached me.
“You can't go after him.”
“I have to.”
“You don't understand.”
“I know my father killed Michael.”
“You don't know that.”
“My uncle said it.”
“And your uncle lies.”
“So does everyone else.”
She looked away.
I stepped closer.
“What aren't you telling me?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“I found something else.”
“What?”
She reached into her purse.
A small envelope.
She handed it to me.
“This was inside my grandfather's safe.”
I opened it.
There was a handwritten note.
Only one sentence.
THE GIRLS WERE NEVER TWINS.
My heart stopped.
I looked at Margaret.
“What?”
“I don't understand it either.”
I read it again.
The girls.
Plural.
Not twins.
I thought about what my uncle had said.
“You were his twin.”
But now the note said the opposite.
Someone was lying.
Again.
“Who wrote this?”
“My grandfather.”
“When?”
“Three days before he died.”
I looked at her.
“Then why did you keep it?”
“Because I didn't know what it meant.”
“You do now.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I only know that my grandfather was terrified of someone.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the ballroom entrance.
“The same person who has been watching us tonight.”
I followed her gaze.
Nobody.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
Then a woman's voice.
“You have the card.”
I froze.
“Who are you?”
“You have something that belongs to me.”
“Who are you?”
“Your mother wants you to come alone.”
I looked at Margaret.
She immediately shook her head.
“Don't.”
I covered the phone.
“Who is this?”
The woman continued:
“Bring the memory card to Blackwood Estate.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who are you?”
“You'll find your mother there.”
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Sophie ran toward me.
“Mommy!”
I crouched.
“What happened?”
She pointed toward the ballroom entrance.
“There was a man.”
“What man?”
“He was watching me.”
My blood froze.
“Where?”
She pointed.
I looked.
Empty.
“What did he look like?”
Sophie thought.
“He had a scar.”
“Where?”
She touched her cheek.
“Here.”
My stomach dropped.
I knew that description.
My uncle had a scar.
A long white line across his right cheek.
But he wasn't in the ballroom.
Or was he?
I looked toward the service corridor.
“Stay with Ethan.”
I stood.
Margaret grabbed my arm.
“Don't go.”
“I have to.”
“Blackwood Estate is a trap.”
“Maybe.”
“You'll be killed.”
“Maybe.”
She stared at me.
“You're willing to risk your life?”
I looked at Sophie.
“No.”
I looked at the memory card.
“I'm willing to risk mine to save hers.”
Margaret released my arm.
Ethan stepped forward.
“I'll come with you.”
“No.”
“You can't go alone.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever called me specifically said to come alone.”
Ethan shook his head.
“That's exactly why you shouldn't.”
I knew he was right.
But something told me the call wasn't a threat.
It was an invitation.
And the only person who could explain my mother's disappearance was waiting there.
I turned to Sophie.
“I'm going to get Grandma.”
She stared at me.
“She's alive?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
Sophie smiled through her tears.
“Then bring her home.”
I hugged her.
“I will.”
Blackwood Estate stood beyond a forest two hours outside the city.
The road was narrow.
Fog covered the trees.
My headlights barely reached ten meters ahead.
I kept one hand on the steering wheel.
The other held the memory card.
Every few minutes, I checked my phone.
No signal.
No messages.
Nothing.
Then the estate appeared.
A massive iron gate.
Two stone pillars.
A black house beyond the trees.
The gate opened automatically.
I stopped.
For a moment, I considered turning around.
Then I thought of my mother.
I drove inside.
The gate slammed shut behind me.
I got out.
The front door was already open.
“Hello?”
No answer.
I stepped inside.
Dust covered the furniture.
Old portraits lined the walls.
I walked deeper into the house.
Then I saw something.
A child's drawing.
Pinned to the wall.
Two little girls.
Holding hands.
Underneath them, someone had written:
ELENA AND EMILY.
I touched the paper.
Another memory surfaced.
My mother sitting at a table.
Two girls beside her.
Me.
And Emily.
She was laughing.
I remembered her now.
Her voice.
Her smile.
The red rabbit.
Then a man's voice behind us.
“Girls.”
We turned.
Michael.
Our father.
I gasped.
He wasn't a stranger.
He was the man I had spent years believing I had never known.
I touched the portrait.
Tears filled my eyes.
Then I noticed something strange.
The portrait showed three people.
My mother.
Emily.
And Michael.
I was missing.
Why?
I stepped backward.
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
I froze.
Someone was here.
I slowly walked toward the staircase.
“Mom?”
No answer.
I climbed.
At the end of the hallway was a locked door.
A small brass plaque read:
ROOM 8
I tried the handle.
Locked.
Then I heard something.
A woman's voice.
Soft.
Weak.
“Please…”
My heart stopped.
“Mom?”
Silence.
I pressed my ear against the door.
“Mom!”
A whisper came from inside.
“My daughter…”
I almost collapsed.
It was her.
My mother.
Alive.
I reached for the handle.
Then a voice spoke behind me.
“Don't open that door.”
I turned.
A man stood at the end of the hallway.
Tall.
Scar across his cheek.
My uncle.
I stepped backward.
“You.”
He raised both hands.
“Listen to me.”
“You shot at us.”
“No.”
“You chased me here.”
“No.”
“You kidnapped my sister.”
His face changed.
“Emily is alive.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She is alive.”
“Where?”
He pointed toward the locked door.
I stared.
“She's in there?”
He nodded.
I reached for the handle.
“Wait.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother isn't alone.”
I stopped.
“What do you mean?”
He looked terrified.
“There are two people in that room.”
“Who?”
He swallowed.
“Your mother.”
“And?”
He looked directly at me.
“Your sister.”
The door suddenly unlocked from the inside.
It slowly opened.
A woman stood in the darkness.
Older.
Paler.
Her hair streaked with silver.
But the eyes were unmistakable.
My mother.
She looked at me.
And behind her stood a young woman.
About my age.
Same eyes.
Same smile.
Same small scar above the eyebrow.
I couldn't speak.
My mother reached for me.
“My daughter…”
I stepped forward.
Then the young woman whispered:
“Don't hug her.”
I stopped.
She looked terrified.
“Why?”
She pointed at my mother.
“Because she's not your mother.”
My entire world shattered again.
And my mother whispered:
“Emily, stop.”
The young woman looked at me.
“I am not Emily.”
May you like
Then she said the one thing I had never expected to hear.
“I'm your sister's daughter.”
