Chapter 5: The Secret Beneath the Mansion
James had never looked frightened before.
Not when business partners threatened lawsuits. Not when security guards escorted angry guests out of the mansion. Not even when Margaret had slapped the armrest of her wheelchair in front of him.
But now his face was drained of color.
He kept looking over his shoulder.
"Move, Emily.""
I pulled my arm away.
"Tell me what is downstairs.""
"Not here.""
"You just told me my mother was transferred beneath this house.""
"I said there is something you need to see.""
"Then show me.""
James looked toward the bedroom.
Richard's voice echoed through the hallway.
"JAMES!""
My employer flinched.
I stared at him.
"You're forty years old. Why are you still afraid of your father?""
His jaw tightened.
"Because you don't know what he's capable of.""
"Then stop protecting him.""
James looked down.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he removed a small keycard from his jacket.
"Follow me.""
We walked toward the western staircase.
I had worked in the mansion for almost a year, but I had never been allowed beyond the locked service corridor near the basement.
The corridor was hidden behind a decorative wooden panel beside the wine cellar.
James pressed his thumb against a biometric scanner.
A green light appeared.
The panel opened with a soft mechanical click.
Beyond it was a narrow staircase descending into darkness.
Cold air drifted upward.
It smelled of disinfectant and damp concrete.
I stopped.
"What is this place?""
James switched on the lights.
"An old private medical wing.""
I stared at him.
"Why does your house have a medical wing?""
"It was built by my grandfather.""
"Your grandfather?""
"Richard's father. He had several chronic illnesses and didn't trust hospitals.""
We descended.
At the bottom stood a long hallway with white walls and several closed doors.
The place looked abandoned, but the lights worked.
A small monitor blinked near the ceiling.
I touched the wall.
"How long has this been here?""
James hesitated.
"Since before I was born.""
At the end of the hallway was a steel door.
I took out Margaret's silver key.
James watched me.
"That key opens the archive room.""
"What archive?""
"Medical records. Family records. Everything Richard wanted kept away from the public.""
I inserted the key.
The lock clicked.
Inside was a small room filled with filing cabinets, old computers, and boxes marked with dates.
A desk stood in the center.
On it was a framed photograph of Rebecca.
She looked about twenty-five.
Her dark hair fell over her shoulders, and she wore a simple white dress.
She was smiling.
I picked up the photograph.
"She was beautiful.""
James looked away.
"Yes.""
I turned toward him.
"You knew her.""
He nodded.
"She was my sister.""
"What was she like?""
For the first time, his expression softened.
"She used to steal my cereal when we were children. She hated wearing shoes. She sang loudly when she was cooking.""
A small smile appeared.
"She used to tell me I would grow up to be a terrible businessman because I counted everything.""
I looked at him.
"Did you love her?""
His smile disappeared.
"More than anyone.""
"Then why did you help your father take her child?""
James lowered his head.
"I didn't know what he was planning.""
I waited.
He walked toward a filing cabinet.
"I was twelve. My father told me Rebecca had become unstable. He said she had threatened to take you away and disappear.""
"Did you believe him?""
"Yes.""
"Why?""
"Because he told me she had signed an agreement.""
James opened a drawer.
Inside were several folders.
"He showed me a document. It said Rebecca had voluntarily surrendered custody.""
I took a step closer.
"Did you see her sign it?""
"No.""
"Did you ask?""
He shook his head.
I laughed without humor.
"So you believed him.""
"I was twelve.""
"And what happened when you grew up?""
James looked at me.
"By then, the story had been repeated so many times that questioning it felt like betraying my father.""
I shook my head.
"You let him turn my mother into a liar.""
James closed the drawer.
"I know.""
"Do you?""
He didn't answer.
I placed Rebecca's photograph back on the desk.
"Find the records.""
The first folder contained hospital invoices.
The second contained correspondence between Richard and a private physician.
The third had Rebecca's name written across the front.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Inside were medical reports.
The first was dated fourteen years earlier.
PATIENT: REBECCA JOHNSON.
CONDITION: SEVERE TRAUMA FOLLOWING MOTOR VEHICLE INCIDENT.
STATUS: CONSCIOUS.
I stared at the final word.
Conscious.
"James.""
He came over.
I pointed.
"She was conscious.""
He read the report.
His expression changed.
The next page contained a handwritten note.
Patient repeatedly requests information regarding infant daughter. Family representative has instructed staff not to disclose child's location.
I pressed the paper against my chest.
She had asked for me.
Even while injured.
Even while surrounded by strangers.
She had asked for her baby.
I kept turning pages.
A medication chart.
A transfer request.
An unsigned discharge form.
Then a report dated three days later.
Patient removed from standard ward under private family instruction.
There was no destination listed.
I looked up.
"Where did they take her?""
James searched the remaining folders.
"Wait.""
He pulled out a thin envelope.
Inside was a photograph of a private ambulance parked outside the hospital.
The license plate was visible.
A date was written on the back.
The same date as the bank transfer receipt.
I turned the photograph over.
Someone had written:
Transfer to Blackwood Rehabilitation Center.
"Where is that?"" I asked.
James stared at the name.
"I've never heard of it.""
I searched the computer.
The machine was old, but it still worked.
James entered a password.
A list of archived files appeared.
Most were medical records.
One folder was labeled:
*R. JOHNSON — RESTRICTED.*
James clicked it.
The screen requested another password.
He tried his birthday.
Access denied.
He tried Richard's birthday.
Access denied.
Then I remembered the inscription on the safe.
For my little bird.
I looked at the keyboard.
"What if the password was something personal?""
James glanced at me.
I typed the words.
ACCESS GRANTED.
A list of scanned documents appeared.
The first was a letter from Rebecca.
My hands went cold.
I opened it.
Mother,
They are telling me Emily has been taken to another state. I know they are lying. I heard Richard speaking to the doctor.
He says I must sign the papers if I ever want to see my daughter again.
I will not sign.
James came to visit me today. He cried when he saw me. I told him to be brave and find Emily.
If he remembers nothing else, I hope he remembers that his sister loved him.
I stopped reading.
James stood behind me.
He was staring at the screen.
I looked at him.
"She asked you to find me.""
His face crumpled.
"I was a child.""
"She asked you.""
He covered his mouth.
I turned back to the screen.
There was another document.
A transfer order.
The destination was clearly written.
BLACKWOOD REHABILITATION CENTER.
A second line identified the receiving physician.
DR. THOMAS BELL.
And beside the doctor's name was a handwritten note.
Patient must remain under observation until family authorization.
I looked at James.
"Did she die there?""
He shook his head.
"I don't know.""
"Then we find out.""
I opened another file.
A video icon appeared.
The date was fourteen years old.
I clicked it.
The screen flickered.
A hospital room appeared.
Rebecca lay in a bed, her face pale, one arm wrapped in a bandage.
She was crying.
A nurse stood beside her.
Then Rebecca looked directly at the camera.
Her voice was weak.
"If anyone ever finds this...""
I stopped breathing.
She continued.
"Please tell my daughter I didn't abandon her.""
I pressed both hands over my mouth.
"Emily...""
James whispered my name.
But I couldn't look at him.
On the screen, Rebecca began crying.
"I named her Emily. Emily Rebecca Johnson. I wanted her to have my name because I knew they would try to erase me.""
She turned toward the nurse.
"Please. I just want to see my baby.""
The nurse looked toward someone outside the camera.
Then the video ended.
I couldn't stand.
I sank into the chair.
For fourteen years, I had been living with a lie.
My mother hadn't forgotten me.
She had been begging to see me.
And someone had made sure she couldn't.
James placed a hand on my shoulder.
I pulled away.
"Don't touch me.""
He stepped back.
I wiped my face.
"Find Blackwood.""
He searched the archive.
An address appeared.
But beneath it was a second entry.
*FACILITY STATUS: CLOSED.*
*DATE OF CLOSURE: FOURTEEN YEARS AGO.*
James stared at the screen.
"That's impossible.""
"Why?""
"Because the closure date is the same day my father announced Rebecca's death.""
I looked at the address.
A small town outside the city.
Then I noticed a second line.
*PATIENT TRANSFERRED: UNKNOWN DESTINATION.*
My heart began pounding.
"She may have survived.""
James didn't answer.
I turned toward him.
"She may still be alive.""
Before he could respond, the room's lights suddenly went out.
A red emergency lamp flashed above the door.
Then a loud metallic sound echoed from the hallway.
The steel door slammed shut.
James rushed toward it.
He pulled the handle.
Locked.
He struck the control panel.
Nothing happened.
I heard footsteps outside.
Slow.
Heavy.
Then Richard's voice came through the security speaker.
"James, I warned you.""
James turned pale.
"Father!""
Richard continued calmly.
"You were told never to open that archive.""
I stepped toward the speaker.
"Where is my mother?""
A brief silence followed.
Then Richard answered.
"Your mother is exactly where she belongs.""
The speaker clicked off.
May you like
James pounded on the door.
And somewhere behind the filing cabinets, a small electronic alarm began beeping.
