Chapter 5 - THE LETTER UNDER THE FLOOR
The house was exactly where Victor said it would be.
Hidden among trees.
No neighbors.
No streetlights.
No windows on the lower level.
Only one steel door.
I wanted to rush inside.
Victor stopped me.
“Wait.”
“Claire is in there.”
“So are the boys.”
“Exactly.”
“Which means your father expects you to charge in.”
I stared at the house.
“What would you do?”
“Think.”
I hated that answer.
But he was right.
We approached from the rear.
Victor found a service entrance.
Inside, the building smelled like dust and old wood.
Then we heard a child crying.
“Mommy!”
I ran.
Victor followed.
We found an empty room.
A blanket.
A child's shoe.
Nothing else.
“They moved them,” I whispered.
Then I saw something on the floor.
A piece of paper.
My name.
JULIAN.
I picked it up.
It was my father's handwriting.
“You're getting close.”
I crumpled it.
“Coward.”
Victor looked around.
“There's more.”
We searched the room.
Behind an old cabinet, Victor found a loose floorboard.
Underneath was a metal box.
Inside were photographs.
Dozens of them.
Claire pregnant.
Claire holding newborn babies.
Noah's first birthday.
Eli learning to walk.
Someone had been watching them.
For years.
I turned one photograph over.
A date.
A location.
Seattle.
Another.
Portland.
Another.
California.
My hands shook.
“He watched them.”
Victor nodded.
“Your father never stopped.”
Then we found a document.
A trust agreement.
My name.
Claire's name.
Noah.
Eli.
And another name.
Daniel Bennett.
I stared at it.
“Who's Daniel?”
Victor's face went pale.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I swear.”
A noise came from upstairs.
We froze.
Footsteps.
Someone was walking toward us.
Victor pulled me behind the cabinet.
The door opened.
A man entered.
Not Richard.
Someone younger.
He placed a phone on the table.
Then spoke.
“Mr. Bennett knows you're here.”
I held my breath.
The man continued.
“He says you have until midnight.”
“Until what?”
He smiled.
“Until Claire chooses which son survives.”
My blood turned to ice.
I lunged.
Victor grabbed me.
The man escaped through the doorway.
We chased him.
But he disappeared into the woods.
I returned to the room.
“No.”
Victor looked at me.
“What?”
“No one is making Claire choose.”
I picked up the trust document.
“There has to be another way.”
Victor stared at the names.
Then he whispered,
“Daniel.”
“What?”
“Daniel Bennett.”
“You said you didn't know him.”
“I don't know him.”
He pointed at the document.
“But your father wouldn't put a random name here.”
I looked at the signature.
Something about it felt familiar.
Then I remembered.
My father's old assistant.
Daniel Mercer.
A man who had supposedly died in a plane crash.
Another dead man.
Another lie.
I called my lawyer.
He answered immediately.
“Julian?”
“Do you know Daniel Mercer?”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Because I need to know if he's alive.”
My lawyer lowered his voice.
“He is.”
My heart stopped.
“Where?”
“He contacted me yesterday.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me something strange.”
“What?”
“He said your father wasn't the real architect.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“He said your father was afraid of someone else.”
“Who?”
My lawyer hesitated.
Then:
“Your grandfather.”
I felt the room become colder.
“My grandfather died twenty years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Then how can he be involved?”
“I don't know.”
“Where is Daniel?”
“Seattle.”
“Where?”
Another pause.
Then my lawyer said,
“He's at Virginia Mason.”
I closed my eyes.
The hospital.
The same hospital where everything began.
The same hospital where my mother disappeared.
I looked at Victor.
“We're going back.”
Victor nodded.
But before we left, I noticed something written inside the metal box.
Four words.
ONE SON IS MINE.
I stared at them.
Victor saw my face.
“What?”
I handed him the paper.
His expression changed.
“Julian…”
“What?”
He pointed to the handwriting.
“That isn't your father's.”
“Whose is it?”
May you like
Victor whispered,
“Mine.”
