Chapter 2: The Name Beneath the Floorboards
Jack did not ask me what Pearl meant until we were alone.
He carried me upstairs himself.
Not because I couldn't walk.
Because every few steps, his hand tightened around mine as though he was afraid I might disappear.
When we reached our bedroom, he locked the door.
Then he stood there staring at me.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
My ankle still hurt.
Jack noticed.
He crouched immediately.
"Let me see.""
"It's fine.""
"No, Pam.""
He carefully lifted the hem of my dress.
The skin around my ankle was red, swollen, and bruised.
Jack went pale.
"Jesus.""
I pulled the fabric down.
"Don't look.""
He sat beside me.
"I should have seen this.""
"You weren't here.""
"I was your husband.""
His voice cracked.
I looked at him.
"You loved me.""
"That's not enough.""
He took my hand.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
I looked toward the locked door.
"She said she'd hurt the baby.""
Jack's fingers tightened around mine.
"She threatened our child?""
I nodded.
"She said she had people who would make sure you never believed me.""
Jack stood.
"What people?""
"I don't know.""
"Pam.""
"I don't know.""
He walked toward the window.
Outside, the house looked peaceful.
A white fence.
Green lawn.
A silver car in the driveway.
A neighbor walking a dog.
Everything normal.
Everything obscene.
Jack pulled out his phone.
"I'm calling the police.""
I grabbed his wrist.
"Wait.""
He turned.
"Why?""
"Because Pearl wanted you to find me like that.""
His face went still.
"What?""
I swallowed.
"She wasn't surprised when you came home.""
Jack looked toward the door.
"She knew?""
"I don't know.""
"But you think she wanted me to see.""
"I think...""
I stopped.
A memory surfaced.
Three nights earlier.
Pearl had stood outside my bedroom door at midnight.
She had been holding an old photograph.
She had slipped it beneath the door.
"Your husband has questions he hasn't asked yet," she had said.
Then she walked away.
I had never looked at the photograph.
I was too afraid.
Now I told Jack.
He opened the bedroom door.
"Where is Pearl?""
"Jack—"
"Where?""
We found her in the downstairs study.
She was no longer wearing the gown.
She had changed into a cream blouse and black trousers.
Her cheek was bruised.
She sat behind the desk as though nothing had happened.
A cup of tea steamed beside her.
Jack stopped in the doorway.
"Give me the photograph.""
Pearl's eyes moved to me.
Then back to him.
"Which one?""
"The one you showed Pamela.""
Pearl smiled.
"So she finally told you.""
Jack's voice hardened.
"Give it to me.""
Pearl opened a drawer.
She removed an old photograph.
Then she placed it on the desk.
Jack picked it up.
I moved closer.
It showed my mother.
Young.
Beautiful.
Smiling beside a man I didn't recognize.
Behind them was this house.
But there was something else.
A little girl stood between them.
A little girl with chestnut hair.
Pearl.
I looked at her.
"That's you.""
Pearl nodded.
"I was eight.""
Jack turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
His face changed.
"What does this say?""
Pearl didn't answer.
I read it.
To my dearest Pearl. One day this house will belong to you. Take care of Pamela. She is your sister.
My stomach dropped.
Jack stared at Pearl.
"Your sister?""
Pearl leaned back.
"Half-sister.""
I looked at her.
"My mother never told me.""
"Your mother didn't want you to know.""
"Why?""
Pearl's smile returned.
"Because she knew exactly what kind of person I was.""
Jack slammed the photograph onto the desk.
"Enough games.""
Pearl's eyes hardened.
"You think this is about jealousy?""
"Isn't it?""
"No.""
She pointed at me.
"This woman was born with something that should have been mine.""
I felt cold.
"What?""
Pearl stood.
"The house.""
Jack frowned.
"What does Pamela have to do with the house?""
Pearl walked toward an old bookshelf.
She pulled out a leather folder.
Then another.
She placed them on the desk.
"Your father signed the property over to Pamela before he died.""
I stared.
"My father?""
Pearl nodded.
"Your biological father.""
I shook my head.
"That's impossible.""
"Is it?""
Jack opened the folder.
Inside were legal documents.
A property transfer.
A trust agreement.
A signature.
My father's name.
My hands began to shake.
Jack read silently.
Then he looked at me.
"Pam, this is real.""
Pearl smiled.
"Your father left Pamela the house, the land, and the trust attached to it.""
I stared at the papers.
"Then why did you move in?""
Pearl's smile disappeared.
"Because I knew where the original documents were.""
Jack's eyes narrowed.
"Where?""
Pearl didn't answer.
Instead, she looked at me.
"Ask yourself why your father never told you about me.""
I whispered, "Why?""
Pearl's expression softened.
Almost sadly.
"Because your father wasn't just my stepfather.""
Jack froze.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Pearl walked toward the bookshelf again.
She pressed a hidden latch.
The entire shelf shifted.
Behind it was a narrow black opening.
A small safe sat inside the wall.
Pearl touched the combination dial.
Then she looked at Jack.
"Your wife thinks she was the victim.""
She smiled.
"But she has no idea what her father did to make sure she inherited everything.""
The safe clicked.
And the door opened.
May you like
Inside was a single red envelope.
With my name written across it.
