Chapter 6 - The Cottage
The staff cottage stood behind the main property, partly hidden by winter trees.
Grace had lived there on and off for years.
She had never told me that the landlord had stopped maintaining it months ago.
The roof leaked.
The heat barely worked.
The kitchen window was cracked.
Yet Grace had still called it home.
I walked inside.
Mia's drawings covered the refrigerator.
Lily's crib sat beside the couch.
Three grocery bags held everything the family owned.
I felt ashamed.
Not because I had given them too little.
Because I'd had no idea.
Grace noticed my expression.
"Please don't."
"Don't what?"
"Feel sorry for us."
"I'm not."
"Then what are you feeling?"
I looked around.
"Angry."
"At me?"
"At myself."
She looked away.
"I'm used to surviving."
"You shouldn't have to."
She laughed softly.
"People like us don't get many choices."
I crouched beside Mia.
"Who told you to clean the house?"
"No one."
"Then why did you do it?"
She looked at the floor.
"Mama said if she missed too many days, the new manager might replace her."
I stood.
"There is no new manager."
Grace froze.
"What?"
"I didn't hire one."
She turned toward me.
"Then why did Arthur tell me—"
She stopped.
We looked at each other.
Arthur had been lying to her for months.
He had created fear to control her.
Mia suddenly pointed at the wall.
"That."
Behind a small cabinet was a loose floorboard.
We lifted it.
Underneath was another box.
Inside was a photograph of Grace's mother with a teenage boy.
I recognized him.
My father.
But there was someone else in the photograph.
A little girl.
The girl was me.
No.
Not me.
A child who looked exactly like Mia.
I stared.
"What?"
Elias stepped inside.
He saw the photograph.
His face changed.
"That's not Mia."
Grace grabbed it.
"Who is she?"
Elias whispered, "Your mother's first daughter."
Grace's eyes widened.
"My mother had another child?"
"She was taken."
"By who?"
Elias swallowed.
"Arthur."
Grace shook her head.
"No."
"We thought she died."
"She didn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because she contacted me."
"When?"
"Two weeks ago."
I stepped toward him.
"What?"
Elias pulled out a letter.
It was from a woman named Anna Harper.
Thirty-one years old.
Living in Connecticut.
She had been searching for her mother for years.
And she had one piece of proof.
A birthmark.
The same birthmark Grace's mother had described in her old diary.
Grace sat down.
"My sister."
"Yes."
I called the number in the letter.
No answer.
Then a text arrived.
STOP SEARCHING.
I looked at Elias.
He was pale.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
A woman's voice whispered.
"Is Grace with you?"
"Yes."
"Then tell her not to trust anyone."
"Who are you?"
"Anna."
The line cut.
Then a second message arrived.
I KNOW WHO KILLED YOUR GRANDFATHER.
Arthur.
My blood ran cold.
I asked Daniel to trace the number.
The result led to an abandoned church.
We went there.
Inside the empty sanctuary, a woman waited.
She looked enough like Grace to make my breath catch.
Same eyes.
Same narrow chin.
Same habit of pressing her lips together when she was nervous.
Grace stopped.
Neither woman moved.
Then Anna whispered, "You have Mother's eyes."
Grace burst into tears.
They embraced.
For the first time in years, I saw Grace look like someone who could finally stop running.
Anna told us the truth.
Arthur had arranged her disappearance when she was seven because her mother threatened to expose the witness system.
She had been placed with another family.
She had spent twenty-four years believing Grace had chosen not to find her.
"I thought you forgot me," Anna said.
Grace held her face.
"I didn't know you existed."
Anna looked at me.
"That's what Arthur wanted."
She handed me a flash drive.
"Everything is on here."
"What?"
"Payments. Phone calls. Recordings."
I plugged it into my laptop.
There were hundreds of files.
Arthur had bribed officials.
Threatened witnesses.
Manipulated property records.
And one file stood out.
CONFIRMATION OF GAINES INCIDENT.
I opened it.
Audio.
My father's voice.
Arthur's voice.
Daniel's voice.
They were discussing my grandfather's death.
It wasn't my father.
It wasn't Elias.
It wasn't Daniel.
Arthur had arranged it.
He had used Victor Sloane.
The motive was the foundation ledger.
But the worst discovery was still ahead.
Arthur hadn't acted alone.
Someone inside my current company had been helping him.
Someone who had access to every digital account.
Someone I trusted.
My chief financial officer.
Martin Reeves.
I called him.
No answer.
Then I received an email.
From Martin.
The subject line read:
YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE FOUND YOUR UNCLE.
There was one attachment.
A photograph of Mia asleep.
Taken inside my house.
That morning.
My hands went numb.
Arthur had someone watching us.
May you like
And they were close.
Very close.
