Chapter 8: The Woman Behind the Face
I couldn't stop staring at the passport photograph.
The woman in the picture had Vanessa's face.
Her dark hair was pulled back neatly. Her lips were pressed into the same thin line I knew from years of being scolded. Even the small scar beside her left eyebrow matched the mark Vanessa had once blamed on a childhood accident.
But the name beneath the photograph belonged to my mother.
Eleanor Carter.
My mother had been living under Vanessa's identity.
Or Vanessa had been living under my mother's.
I couldn't tell which possibility frightened me more.
"That isn't possible," I whispered.
Rebecca placed the phone on the table.
"The passport may have been altered. The authorities are examining it now.""
"But why would someone put Vanessa's photograph on a passport with my mother's name?""
Thomas stared at the image.
"Because one identity may have been used to conceal the other.""
I turned toward him.
"Explain that.""
He took a slow breath.
"If Eleanor discovered Victor's financial crimes, she may have needed to disappear. Someone could have created a false identity for her using Vanessa's name. Later, if Vanessa wanted to hide her own movements, she could have used Eleanor's identity instead.""
I shook my head.
"You're saying they exchanged identities?""
"I'm saying we need to consider the possibility.""
I thought of the woman who had raised me.
The woman who had chosen my clothes, controlled my money, and made me apologize whenever Brianna hurt me.
The woman who had told me my mother was dead.
What if she wasn't Vanessa?
What if the woman who had raised me wasn't the person she claimed to be?
I pressed my fingers against my temples.
"I need to see my mother.""
Rebecca nodded.
"The police are arranging a secure video call first. They want to confirm the woman's identity before allowing anyone to travel.""
I hated the waiting.
But I understood why it mattered.
Every answer seemed to lead to another question, and every person who claimed to know the truth had turned out to be hiding something.
I wasn't going to make another mistake simply because I was desperate.
The video call came at 3:42 p.m.
Detective Morgan joined from her office. Rebecca sat beside me, and Thomas remained near the window.
A moment later, the screen filled with the image of a woman sitting in a small interview room.
She had soft brown hair streaked with silver.
Her face was thinner than in the photographs I'd seen, and there were lines around her eyes that hadn't existed in the family albums.
But I recognized her.
Not because she looked exactly as she had when I was a child.
Because she smiled in the same way.
Her left cheek lifted first.
Then the right.
A small, crooked smile.
My mother's smile.
I covered my mouth.
The woman on the screen stared at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, "Nia?""
I broke.
Tears spilled down my face so quickly that I couldn't see the screen.
"Mom?""
She pressed both hands against her mouth.
"Oh, my baby.""
I made a sound that was half sob, half laugh.
"I thought you were dead.""
My mother closed her eyes.
"I know.""
"Why didn't you come back?""
She shook her head, tears running down her cheeks.
"I tried.""
The words were so quiet that I almost didn't hear them.
"What?""
"I tried to find you. I tried for years.""
I leaned toward the screen.
"Then why didn't you?""
My mother looked away.
When she spoke again, her voice trembled.
"Because every time I got close, someone convinced me that you were already gone.""
My heart stopped.
"Who?""
She swallowed.
"Vanessa.""
I looked at Thomas.
He had gone completely still.
My mother continued.
"After the clinic, I was taken to a house outside Portland. I was told that Daniel had died and that you were living with Vanessa. I was shown photographs of you at school, at birthdays, in the garden behind the house.""
"Who showed you?""
"A woman who called herself Vanessa Hayes.""
I felt sick.
"Was she my stepmother?""
My mother shook her head.
"No.""
The room seemed to tilt.
"Then who was she?""
My mother leaned closer to the camera.
"The woman who raised you was not Vanessa Hayes.""
I couldn't breathe.
"Who was she?""
My mother closed her eyes.
"Her name was Celeste Ward. She worked for Victor. She had been involved in the financial fraud, and she knew that Daniel had hidden evidence.""
I stared at her.
Celeste Ward.
The name meant nothing to me.
I'd never heard it.
"Why would she pretend to be Vanessa?""
"Because Vanessa was already missing. Celeste took her identity, her home, and eventually her place in your life.""
I thought about the woman who had slapped me.
The woman who had stolen my money.
The woman who had destroyed my first dress and encouraged Brianna to take it.
"Then who is Brianna?""
My mother's face crumpled.
"Victor's daughter.""
I stared at the screen.
"His biological daughter?""
"Yes.""
"But if Celeste raised me—"
"She raised you because Victor wanted to know where Daniel had hidden the evidence. You were the easiest way to keep your father under control.""
I felt as though the floor had disappeared beneath me.
"You're saying she kept me because of Dad?""
My mother nodded.
"She was told that if she watched you, Daniel would eventually come out of hiding.""
I covered my mouth.
All those years.
Every insult.
Every punishment.
Every time I'd begged Vanessa to let me attend a sewing class or buy fabric for my designs.
It hadn't been about discipline.
It hadn't even been about jealousy.
I'd been a hostage in a house that looked like a home.
My mother watched me cry.
"I'm sorry, Nia.""
I shook my head.
"No. Don't apologize for what they did to you.""
She pressed her hand against the screen.
"I should have found you.""
"You were looking for me.""
"Not hard enough.""
I swallowed.
"I don't care about that right now. I just want to know where Dad is.""
My mother's expression changed.
She looked toward someone outside the camera's view.
Then she leaned closer.
"Daniel is alive.""
My entire body went cold.
"Where?""
"I don't know exactly. The last time I saw him, he was in Portland.""
"When?""
"Three years ago.""
I stared at her.
The photograph of my father outside the house flashed through my mind.
Three years ago.
He had been alive.
He had been close enough to reach me.
"Why didn't he come home?""
My mother began to cry again.
"Because he believed that if he returned, Victor would kill you.""
I shook my head.
"Everyone keeps saying that. But I'm seventeen now. I could have understood. I could have helped.""
"I know.""
"No, you don't!"" I cried.
"I spent years believing I wasn't worth staying for!""
My mother covered her face.
The room went silent except for my breathing.
Then she looked up.
"You were always worth staying for, Nia. Every day. Every hour. Every second.""
I wanted to believe her.
I wanted to climb through the screen and hold her.
Instead, I sat there with my hands pressed against my mouth, trying to absorb the fact that my mother was alive and that the woman who had raised me had stolen someone else's identity.
Detective Morgan cleared her throat gently.
"Eleanor, we need to establish where you last saw Daniel.""
My mother nodded.
"At a house near the waterfront. He was using the name David Miller.""
"Do you remember the address?""
She shook her head.
"But I remember the room. There was a red door and a brass number plate.""
My fingers tightened around the key.
"Did the number say 317?""
My mother froze.
Then she stared at me.
"Where did you get that key?""
"It was hidden in the hem of my competition gown.""
She closed her eyes.
"Oh, Daniel.""
"What does it open?""
My mother looked directly into the camera.
"A locker at the old Portland railway station. Your father hid the original evidence there.""
Detective Morgan immediately began writing.
"Do you know what's inside?""
"Letters, financial records, and a recording. Daniel told me that if anything happened to him, the recording would prove who was responsible for everything.""
Thomas stepped forward.
"Who made the recording?""
My mother looked at him.
For the first time, her expression hardened.
"You should know, Thomas.""
He went pale.
"I don't.""
"You were there.""
Thomas shook his head.
"I never heard a recording.""
"You were there when Daniel confronted Victor.""
The room went silent.
I turned toward Thomas.
"What is she talking about?""
He looked as though he couldn't find the words.
My mother continued.
"Daniel recorded the meeting. He wanted evidence that Victor was threatening him. Thomas was supposed to deliver the recording to the authorities.""
I stared at Thomas.
"Did you?""
He shook his head.
"No.""
My mother looked down.
"Because someone stole it before he could.""
I felt the familiar coldness spreading through my chest.
"Who?""
My mother lifted her eyes.
"Celeste.""
Detective Morgan ended the call after confirming that officers would escort my mother to a secure location.
I sat motionless.
My father was alive.
My mother was alive.
The woman I'd called Vanessa for eight years was actually Celeste Ward, a woman who had been placed in my life to monitor me.
And Thomas had once possessed evidence that might have exposed the entire scheme.
I turned toward him.
"Did you know about Celeste?""
"No.""
"Did you know she was raising me?""
"No.""
"Did you know my father had hidden a recording?""
Thomas lowered his eyes.
"I knew Daniel was collecting evidence. I didn't know where he put it.""
I stood.
"Then how can I trust you?""
He didn't try to stop me.
"You can't yet.""
His answer surprised me.
He continued.
"I've told you what I did. I gave Victor information about Daniel's location. I accepted money I shouldn't have accepted.
I believed Vanessa when she said she could help me find your father. Every time I made a decision out of fear, someone else paid the price.""
He looked at me.
"I won't ask you to forgive me.""
I stared at him.
"Good.""
Then I walked away.
That evening, Detective Morgan arranged for a small team to accompany us to Portland.
Rebecca insisted that I remain with her until the locker had been secured.
Thomas offered to stay behind.
I agreed.
I wasn't ready to spend another hour in a car with him.
The drive took nearly two hours.
By the time we reached the station, darkness had settled over the city. Rain glistened on the pavement, and the old brick building stood beneath a row of yellow streetlights.
A railway employee met us at the entrance.
He examined the key and led us through a narrow corridor to a wall of metal lockers.
Number 317 was near the end.
My hands trembled as I inserted the key.
It turned smoothly.
Inside was a black metal box.
I lifted it carefully.
It was heavier than I expected.
Detective Morgan photographed the locker before removing the contents. Then she placed the box on a table in a secure room and opened it.
Inside were three bundles of documents, a small digital recorder, several photographs, and a sealed envelope bearing my name.
I stared at the envelope.
My father's handwriting.
I reached for it, but Detective Morgan gently stopped me.
"We need to document everything first.""
I nodded.
She photographed the envelope, recorded its location, and then handed it to me.
My fingers shook as I opened it.
Inside was a letter dated three years earlier.
Nia, my little bird,
If you've found this, then you've discovered that the people who raised you were not the people you believed them to be.
I have failed you in ways I cannot begin to explain. I wanted to come home. I wanted to hold you and tell you that none of this was your fault.
But I learned that the people controlling our lives had built their entire plan around you.
The woman who raised you is Celeste Ward. Victor Hayes recruited her to watch you and make sure you never discovered the truth about your inheritance.
Your mother survived. I know where she is, but I cannot reach her safely.
There is one person who knows everything. She has been close to you for years.
I stopped reading.
My heart pounded.
I forced myself to continue.
She is the person who destroyed your first dress.
I looked up.
The room seemed to tilt.
Brianna had stolen the gown.
But my father was saying she hadn't been acting alone.
I lowered my eyes to the letter.
She is not simply Victor's daughter. She was the one who told him where to find me.
I couldn't breathe.
The final line was written in darker ink.
Before you trust anyone again, ask Brianna what she remembers about the night your father disappeared.
I stared at the page.
Brianna had been two years old when my father disappeared.
How could she possibly have known anything?
Then I noticed the photograph beneath the letter.
It showed Brianna as a young child, standing beside Victor.
Behind them was a woman whose face had been scratched away.
On the back, my father had written:
*SHE WASN'T TWO. SHE WAS SEVEN.*
I looked at Detective Morgan.
"That's impossible.""
The detective examined the photograph.
Then she opened the folder containing Brianna's birth records.
Her expression changed.
"Nia," she said quietly, "Brianna Hayes's birth certificate may be false.""
My stomach dropped.
"What does that mean?""
"It means the girl you've known as your stepsister may be older than she claims.""
I stared at the photograph.
Seven years old.
Old enough to remember.
Old enough to understand.
Old enough to know exactly what had happened to my father.
And suddenly, the memory of Brianna standing in my bedroom with a glass of blue paint returned with terrible clarity.
She hadn't just wanted my dress.
She had wanted to destroy the one thing that could prove I was more than the girl she had spent years pretending I was.
A family.
A future.
A name.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Brianna appeared.
I know you found the locker.
Another message followed.
If you want to know what happened to your father, meet me alone tomorrow.
May you like
Then a third message arrived.
And Nia? Don't bring Thomas. He's the reason Dad disappeared.
