Chapter 4: The Truth About My Mother
I stared at the photograph in my hands.
The woman standing between the two little girls looked exactly like the mother I remembered from my childhood.
But that was impossible.
My father had told me she died when I was six years old. He had held me while I cried at her funeral and promised that he would always protect me.
Now Sophia was telling me that my mother was alive.
I called Daniel immediately.
He answered after the second ring.
“Grace, where are you?”
“I need you to tell me the truth. Did our mother really die?”
Silence followed.
“Who told you that?” he finally asked.
“Just answer me!”
Daniel sighed.
“Grace, there are things about our family that you don't understand.”
“Then explain them!”
“I can't do that over the phone. Meet me at the old family house tonight.”
“The house Daniel said was never sold?”
“Yes. And Grace, please come alone.”
The call ended.
I looked at Sophia, who was standing near the hospital door.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I asked.
She folded her arms.
“Because you deserve to know the truth.”
“Then tell me everything!”
“Not here.”
She walked toward the exit, but before leaving, she turned around.
“One more thing, Grace. Don't trust Daniel completely. He's been keeping secrets from you, too.”
I wanted to stop her, but she disappeared into the crowd.
That evening, I arrived at the old family house just before sunset.
The building looked abandoned. Dust covered the windows, and weeds had grown along the pathway. Yet the front door opened as soon as I touched it.
“Daniel?” I called.
No answer.
I stepped inside.
A photograph lay on the table in the living room. It showed my father holding a baby while a woman stood beside him.
On the back, someone had written:
Grace, you were never supposed to know what happened that night.
A noise came from the staircase.
I turned quickly.
A man stood at the top, his face hidden in the shadows.
“Who's there?” I asked.
He slowly descended.
When he stepped into the light, I nearly fell backward.
It was Daniel.
But he wasn't alone.
An elderly woman stood behind him.
She had the same eyes as the woman in my photograph.
My mother.
I couldn't move.
“Grace,” she whispered.
My lips trembled.
“Mother?”
Tears filled her eyes as she approached me.
“I know you have questions, my child.”
I stepped away.
“Questions? You let me believe you were dead for years!”
She lowered her head.
“I never wanted to leave you.”
“Then why did you?”
Before she could answer, Daniel interrupted.
“Because someone threatened our family.”
I turned toward him.
“Who?”
Neither of them spoke.
Then my mother's phone rang.
She looked at the screen, and all the colour disappeared from her face.
“It's him,” she whispered.
“Who is it?” I demanded.
She answered the call.
A man's voice came through the speaker.
“You have until tomorrow morning to tell Grace the truth. If you don't, I'll tell her myself.”
My mother closed her eyes.
The caller continued.
“And when she discovers what her husband did to her father, she will understand why none of you can be trusted.”
The call ended.
I stared at my mother.
“What did Daniel do to my father?”
She reached for my hands, but I pulled away.
“Please,” she whispered. “You must understand that we were trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what?”
Before she could answer, headlights appeared outside the window.
A car had stopped in front of the house.
The door opened.
A man stepped out carrying a black umbrella.
Even from a distance, I recognized him.
Daniel looked toward the window and whispered a name.
“Richard Hayes.”
My heart began to race.
Alexander's father.
The man who was supposed to be dead.
He walked toward the front door and knocked three times.
Then he called out:
“Grace, I know you're in there. It's time you learned why your husband married you.”
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Whatever he tells you,” she whispered, “remember that there's another side to the story.”
The door began to open.
And I realized that the truth about my family was far more dangerous than I had ever imagined.
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