CHAPTER 8: THE GIRL WHO CALLED ME AUNT
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The young woman stood behind my mother, staring at me with the same frightened eyes I had seen in the photograph.
My sister's eyes.
But she wasn't Emily.
She was Emily's daughter.
My mind couldn't process it.
I looked at my mother.
Then at the girl.
Then back at my mother.
“You said Emily disappeared twenty-two years ago.”
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
“She did.”
“Then how does she have a daughter my age?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Because Emily was alive long enough to have her.”
The young woman stepped forward.
“My name is Ava.”
Her voice trembled.
“I was told never to find you.”
I stared at her.
“Why?”
“Because anyone who knew you was in danger.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
I looked at my mother.
“Tell me the truth.”
She nodded slowly.
“You deserve it.”
“No more secrets.”
“I know.”
“You've had twenty-two years.”
“I know.”
“Then start with Emily.”
My mother looked toward Ava.
“She was taken from me.”
“By my uncle?”
My mother nodded.
“But he didn't keep her.”
“Where did he take her?”
“To the Blackwoods.”
Ava looked away.
“My mother was raised here.”
I stared at her.
“Emily grew up in this house?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because your uncle made a deal with them.”
“What deal?”
My mother hesitated.
“He gave them Emily in exchange for your life.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“Your father wanted both girls dead.”
Ava stepped forward.
“He wanted the inheritance.”
My mother nodded.
“Michael left everything to his children.”
I frowned.
“You said I was his daughter.”
“You are.”
“And Emily?”
“Also.”
“Then why was Emily more important?”
My mother looked at me.
“Because you weren't supposed to inherit anything.”
I felt cold.
“What?”
My mother took a breath.
“Your father believed you weren't Michael's child.”
I shook my head.
“You're saying he thought I wasn't his daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he want me dead?”
“Because you knew too much.”
I stared at her.
“I was eight.”
“You remembered things.”
“What things?”
My mother walked toward an old cabinet.
She opened it.
Inside were dozens of documents.
Birth records.
Bank statements.
Photographs.
Letters.
She pulled out a file.
“This is the truth about your birth.”
I took it.
The first page was a hospital record.
My name.
My mother's name.
But the father's name was blank.
I looked at her.
“Why is it blank?”
“Because the hospital was paid to remove it.”
“By who?”
She looked toward the doorway.
My uncle was still standing there.
He answered.
“Your father.”
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“And you let me believe my father was my father?”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
I shook my head.
“You keep using that excuse.”
My uncle's face hardened.
“Because it's true.”
Ava suddenly stepped forward.
“Then tell her about Michael.”
My uncle looked at her.
“You don't know what happened.”
“I know enough.”
“You weren't there.”
“My mother told me.”
My mother interrupted.
“Emily never told you everything.”
Ava looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because she was afraid.”
“Of what?”
My mother stared at me.
“Of you.”
My heart stopped.
“Of me?”
“She believed you had been turned against her.”
I didn't understand.
“How?”
“Your father told her that you had betrayed her.”
“That makes no sense.”
“You were eight.”
“I couldn't betray anyone.”
“You told him where she was hiding.”
I froze.
“I did what?”
My mother nodded.
“You remembered hiding with her.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“You told your father.”
“I don't remember.”
“You were frightened.”
“No.”
“You thought he was going to hurt you.”
“No.”
“You thought you were protecting yourself.”
I stepped backward.
A memory surfaced.
Emily hiding beneath the dining table.
Me standing in the doorway.
My father kneeling.
His hand on my shoulder.
His voice gentle.
“Where is she?”
I remembered pointing.
I remembered crying.
I remembered saying:
“She's downstairs.”
My blood ran cold.
“I told him.”
My mother nodded.
“You didn't know what would happen.”
I covered my mouth.
“I gave her away.”
“No.”
My mother grabbed my hands.
“You were a child.”
“But she was taken because of me.”
“She was taken because your father was a monster.”
I looked at Ava.
“Where is your mother now?”
Ava's expression changed.
“She died.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“How?”
“She was poisoned.”
My heart dropped.
“By who?”
Ava looked at my uncle.
He lowered his head.
“I don't know.”
“You were here.”
“Yes.”
“You protected her.”
“I tried.”
“You failed.”
He accepted the accusation without defending himself.
Then Ava said:
“She left something for you.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
Ava reached into her coat.
She pulled out a small red toy rabbit.
I stopped breathing.
I knew it.
Emily's rabbit.
The one from my childhood.
The one I had forgotten until tonight.
Ava placed it in my hand.
“She told me to give this to you if you ever found me.”
I held it against my chest.
Tears filled my eyes.
“What did she say?”
Ava hesitated.
“She said you would remember.”
“Remember what?”
Ava looked at my mother.
My mother shook her head.
Ava continued.
“She said your father didn't kill Michael.”
I froze.
“What?”
Ava whispered:
“Michael was alive.”
I looked at my uncle.
He looked away.
“Where is he?”
No answer.
“Where is my father?”
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Don't.”
“Where is he?”
“He died.”
“Then how can Michael be alive?”
My mother began crying.
“He wasn't.”
I stared at her.
“You just said he was.”
“I said Emily believed he was.”
“What does that mean?”
My mother looked toward the window.
“The man we called Michael wasn't Michael.”
My mind spun.
“What?”
My mother whispered:
“He had a twin.”
My uncle's face went white.
I turned toward him.
“You knew.”
He nodded.
“Michael had a twin brother.”
“Who?”
My mother answered:
“David.”
I froze.
The name meant something.
I had seen it.
On an old bank document.
On a photograph.
A man standing beside my father.
Same face.
Same eyes.
Different smile.
My mother continued:
“David took Michael's identity.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
“Why?”
“To steal his inheritance.”
“And my father?”
“He helped him.”
I looked at my uncle.
“Then who was my real father?”
My mother didn't answer.
Ava did.
“Your father was David.”
My blood turned cold.
“And Michael?”
“He was Emily's father.”
I stared at the red rabbit.
Two sisters.
Two fathers.
One inheritance.
A conspiracy that had lasted twenty-two years.
Then my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice whispered:
“Your mother is lying.”
I looked at her.
The voice continued:
“Michael was your father.”
My mother's face went pale.
“Who are you?”
The man laughed.
“You met me once.”
“Who?”
“You were eight years old.”
I froze.
Then he said:
“I was the man your father sent to kill you.”
The call ended.
I stared at my mother.
She whispered:
“Run.”
“Why?”
Her eyes filled with terror.
“Because he found us.”
A gunshot shattered the window.
Ava screamed.
My mother pulled me to the floor.
My uncle grabbed the door.
Another bullet tore through the wall.
Then the lights went out.
In the darkness, someone whispered from downstairs:
“Bring me the girl.”
I held Ava's hand.
“Which girl?”
May you like
The voice answered:
“Both of them.”
