Chapter 11 - THE DEAD SISTER
Hannah left the room.
She made it to the kitchen before her legs gave out.
Adrian found her sitting on the floor beside the refrigerator.
For two decades, Hannah had believed her older sister was buried in Greenfield Cemetery.
She remembered the funeral.
The closed coffin.
Her mother crying.
The adults telling nine-year-old Hannah that Rachel was with God.
Now Rebecca Sloan claimed Rachel had survived.
The same lie.
Again.
Adrian lowered himself to the floor across from Hannah.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Finally Hannah laughed weakly.
“I guess closed coffins are a bad sign in our families.”
Adrian didn’t smile.
“I’m sorry.”
She wiped her face angrily.
“I don’t want sorry.”
“What do you want?”
“My sister.”
Adrian nodded.
“Then we find her.”
Hannah looked at him.
“You already have enough.”
“My son is alive because you listened when everyone else ignored him.”
He paused.
“If Rachel is alive, we find her.”
Noah appeared in the doorway.
“And Sophie.”
Hannah smiled through tears.
“And Sophie.”
Rebecca joined them.
She explained what happened nineteen years earlier.
Rachel Mercer had developed a minor condition.
Diane brought her to a hospital affiliated with Saint Arden.
Someone discovered Diane had copied documents proving children were being falsely declared dead.
Rachel became leverage.
“They took her?” Hannah whispered.
Rebecca nodded.
“Diane was told Rachel died during treatment.”
“But she knew?”
“Eventually.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“She probably thought protecting you meant keeping you ignorant.”
Hannah laughed bitterly.
“Everybody in this story loves protecting people by lying to them.”
Adrian looked down.
He understood too well.
Rebecca continued.
Rachel had been transferred into Saint Arden’s identity program.
But unlike the younger children, she remembered her family.
At fourteen, she escaped.
“What happened then?”
“I don’t know.”
Hannah stood.
“Somebody does.”
She looked at Evelyn.
“Your red ledger.”
They searched it.
Rachel Mercer.
No entry.
Hannah felt hope fading.
Then Noah spoke.
“Try birds.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Mom hid things with bird names.”
Adrian smiled faintly.
“Finch.”
Evelyn flipped to the back of the ledger.
Several pages used code names.
RAVEN.
ROBIN.
SPARROW.
FINCH.
Under SPARROW was an entry dated nineteen years earlier.
Female. Age 12.
Original initials R.M.
Escape confirmed.
Status unknown.
One later note had been added.
2018 — CONTACT REESTABLISHED.
Hannah’s heart stopped.
The year Sophie stayed with her family.
Rachel had been alive then.
A phone number appeared beside the note.
Disconnected.
But Torres traced its old registration.
A women’s legal aid center in Philadelphia.
By afternoon, they reached the director.
She remembered a volunteer named Rachel.
But Rachel had used the surname Sloan.
Rebecca gasped.
“That’s my name.”
“Why?”
Rebecca looked confused.
“I don’t know.”
Then she remembered.
Years earlier, she had left her badge inside Saint Arden.
Rachel might have taken it during her escape.
The legal aid director provided one final detail.
Rachel left Philadelphia seven years ago.
Destination:
Portland, Maine.
Occupation:
Elementary school counselor.
Current name:
Rachel Sloan.
Police located an address.
Adrian offered his jet.
Hannah refused.
“I’m not arriving to meet my dead sister on a billionaire’s airplane.”
They drove.
Adrian came anyway.
Noah too.
Five hours later, Hannah stood outside a small blue house near the Maine coast.
Her hands shook so badly she could not knock.
Noah took her hand.
“You broke a wall for me.”
She looked down.
He nodded toward the door.
“Doors are easier.”
Hannah laughed.
Then knocked.
Footsteps.
The door opened.
A woman stood there.
Forty-one.
Brown hair.
Gray sweatshirt.
A small scar beneath her chin.
Hannah knew that scar.
Rachel had fallen from a bicycle when she was ten.
For nineteen years, Hannah had remembered that scar on a dead girl.
Now it moved as the woman’s mouth opened.
“Hannah?”
Hannah stopped breathing.
Rachel covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Hannah whispered:
“You’re alive.”
Rachel began crying.
They fell into each other.
Nineteen years vanished.
Hannah was nine again.
Rachel was twelve.
Their mother was alive.
The world was still safe.
Then Hannah remembered why they came.
She pulled back.
“Rachel.”
Rachel looked toward Adrian and Noah.
Her face changed.
“You found him.”
Adrian stepped forward.
“You know who we are?”
Rachel nodded.
“I’ve known for years.”
“Then you know about Sophie.”
Rachel’s expression became guarded.
Hannah grabbed her hand.
“Where is she?”
Rachel looked at Noah.
“You really are Caroline’s son.”
Noah nodded.
Rachel smiled sadly.
“She talked about you all the time.”
Adrian went still.
“You knew Caroline?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The last year of her life.”
Adrian closed his eyes.
Another secret.
Rachel invited them inside.
On the mantel stood a photograph of Rachel with a blond girl.
About eight.
Noah rushed toward it.
“Sophie.”
Rachel looked at him.
“She doesn’t use that name.”
Adrian picked up the photograph.
“Where is she?”
Rachel sat down.
“When Caroline died, Diane knew Saint Arden would come for Sophie.”
“Our mother,” Hannah whispered.
Rachel nodded.
“Mom called me.”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
“You were talking to her?”
“For years.”
“Why didn’t she tell me?”
“To protect you.”
Hannah laughed through tears.
“Of course.”
Rachel continued.
She took Sophie north.
But after several close calls, she arranged a legal adoption through a trusted family.
“Can you tell us who?”
Rachel looked at Adrian.
“I need to know something first.”
“Anything.”
“Are you looking for Sophie because you love Caroline?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not enough.”
Adrian frowned.
Rachel looked toward Noah.
“Are you prepared to let that girl decide whether she wants you?”
The question landed hard.
Adrian had spent his entire life using money and power to solve problems.
But children were not companies.
Sophie had a family.
A life.
Maybe parents she loved.
He nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Rachel studied him.
Then opened a drawer.
She removed a photograph.
A school picture.
A smiling eight-year-old girl with blond hair.
“She lives outside Boston.”
Noah took the picture.
“My sister.”
Rachel smiled.
“Yes.”
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“Does she know about me?”
“No.”
Noah looked disappointed.
Rachel touched his shoulder.
“But Caroline left something for her.”
Adrian looked up.
“What?”
“A video.”
That evening, they watched it.
Caroline appeared on screen holding a sleeping baby Sophie.
She looked young.
Terrified.
Beautiful.
“My sweet girl,” she whispered.
“If you ever see this, then somebody kept you safe long enough for the truth to find you.”
Adrian cried silently.
Caroline continued.
“You have a father named Adrian.”
She smiled.
“He is stubborn.”
Hannah looked at him.
Noah almost smiled.
“He works too much. He thinks he can fix everything. He can’t.”
Adrian covered his face.
“But he loves completely.”
Caroline kissed Sophie’s forehead.
“And you have a little brother I hope you meet someday.”
Noah stared at the screen.
Caroline smiled.
“He isn’t born yet.”
Her eyes filled.
“But I already dream about him.”
Noah started crying.
Rachel paused the video.
He wiped his face.
“No. Keep going.”
Caroline looked into the camera.
“If life separates you, remember this.”
She held Sophie close.
“Family is not only the people who share your blood.”
Hannah thought of Evelyn.
Rachel.
Noah.
Every person who had hidden, lied, fought, failed, and tried again.
“Family is the person who hears you when you are trapped behind a wall.”
Noah took Hannah’s hand.
Caroline continued.
“And if you ever find each other…”
She smiled.
“Don’t waste time being angry about the years you lost.”
The video ended.
For a long moment, nobody moved.
Then Adrian’s phone rang.
Detective Torres.
He answered.
“What happened?”
Her voice was tense.
“Victoria Blackwood has agreed to cooperate.”
Adrian stood.
“In exchange for what?”
“She wants protection.”
“From Margaret?”
“No.”
Adrian frowned.
“Then from who?”
Torres paused.
“Victoria says Margaret Hawthorne is only one branch of Saint Arden.”
Adrian’s blood chilled.
“How many branches?”
“We don’t know.”
“And why is Victoria suddenly talking?”
“Because someone sent her a photograph inside jail.”
“What photograph?”
Torres sent it.
Adrian opened the message.
The image showed Noah leaving the Blackwood estate earlier that day.
Taken from a distance.
On the back, someone had written four words:
ONE BLACKWOOD CHILD REMAINS.
Adrian’s face went white.
Hannah read it.
“So they know Noah survived.”
“No.”
Adrian stared at the wording.
One Blackwood child remains.
Not two.
He slowly looked toward Sophie’s photograph.
“They know about her too.”
At that exact moment, hundreds of miles away outside Boston, an eight-year-old girl named Sophie Carter stepped off a yellow school bus.
She adjusted the purple backpack on her shoulders.
Her adoptive father waited at the end of the driveway.
“Sophie!”
She smiled and ran toward him.
Neither noticed the black sedan parked across the street.
Inside, a man lowered his camera.
He picked up his phone.
“I found Caroline Blackwood’s daughter.”
A voice answered:
“Bring her to Saint Arden.”
The man looked toward Sophie.
Then smiled.
“Which Saint Arden?”
May you like
The voice on the phone laughed.
“The one Adrian Blackwood still doesn’t know exists.”
