Chapter 9: The Secret My Stepsister Had Buried for Seventeen Years
I read Brianna's message until the words blurred.
Don't bring Thomas. He's the reason Dad disappeared.
The woman I'd called my stepsister for most of my life had just accused the man who had helped me find the truth of betraying my father.
Again.
I looked at Detective Morgan.
"She wants to meet me.""
"Absolutely not alone," she replied.
"She says she knows what happened to my father.""
"Then she'll tell us under controlled circumstances.""
"What if she refuses?""
Detective Morgan closed the evidence box.
"Then we'll investigate the evidence we already have.""
I stared at the phone.
Brianna had spent years making me feel small. She'd stolen my possessions, humiliated me in front of friends, and convinced Vanessa that every problem in the house was my fault.
But she'd never seemed afraid of me.
Not until I won the championship.
Not until the trophy shattered.
Not until the hidden letters began revealing the truth.
Now she wanted a private meeting.
That meant she had something to lose.
"I want to go," I said.
Detective Morgan shook her head.
"You can meet her, but not without protection. We'll arrange a controlled location and make sure she understands that any threats or attempts to interfere with the investigation will be documented.""
I nodded.
Then I looked at the evidence box.
"Can I read the rest of my father's letters?""
"Not all of them tonight. The documents need to be catalogued and examined. But you can read the letter addressed to you.""
I picked it up again.
My father had written that the people controlling our lives had built their entire plan around me.
I couldn't understand why.
I was seventeen.
I had no power, no influence, and barely enough money to buy fabric.
What could anyone possibly want from me?
Rebecca, who had joined us at the station, examined the financial records.
"Your father may have been referring to the inheritance," she said.
"What inheritance?""
She pulled out a document.
"This appears to be a trust established shortly after your birth. It contains shares in several businesses and property interests connected to your father's restoration company.""
I stared at the figures.
The trust was worth substantially more than the two million dollars that had been transferred into Victor's account.
Much more.
"How much?"" I asked.
Rebecca hesitated.
"The current estimated value is approximately eight million dollars.""
My mouth fell open.
"Eight million?""
"Possibly more, depending on the value of the properties and the company's remaining assets.""
I laughed in disbelief.
"Why would my father leave me that much money?""
"Because he was building a business, and he wanted to provide for you.""
I looked down at the documents.
All those years, Vanessa had told me that I was lucky to have a roof over my head.
She'd made me feel guilty for asking for school supplies.
She'd told me that expensive fabric was a waste of money.
Meanwhile, a fortune had been sitting somewhere under my name.
"Can she take it?"" I asked.
"Not legally without authority. But if she controlled the documents and had access to the accounts, she may have been able to move some of the assets before anyone noticed.""
I thought about the transfer records.
The closed account.
The storage unit.
The false identities.
Everything seemed connected to the money.
But there was still one question I couldn't answer.
"Why didn't they just take the inheritance and leave me alone?""
Rebecca's expression became thoughtful.
"Because your father may have structured the trust so that it could only be fully accessed under certain conditions. If that's the case, your identity and your father's status could be essential to unlocking it.""
I looked at the letter again.
The people controlling our lives had built their entire plan around you.
Suddenly, I understood.
They hadn't kept me in that house because they loved me.
They had kept me because I was the key to the money.
And perhaps to something even more dangerous.
The next morning, Detective Morgan arranged the meeting in a conference room at the police station.
Brianna arrived at 10:05 a.m.
She wore a black sweater, dark jeans, and no makeup. Without the expensive clothes and carefully arranged hair, she looked younger than I'd ever seen her.
She also looked exhausted.
A uniformed officer escorted her into the room.
Brianna glanced at me, then at Detective Morgan.
"You said Nia would be alone.""
Detective Morgan folded her hands.
"She's here to speak with you. I'm staying in the room.""
"Then I'm not talking.""
I leaned forward.
"You asked me to come.""
Brianna stared at me.
"Because I need to tell you something before Mom finds out.""
"Which mom?""
The question struck her like a slap.
Her face twisted.
"Don't do that.""
"Do what?""
"Make jokes about things you don't understand.""
I held her gaze.
"Then explain them.""
Brianna sat down.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she looked at the table.
"My name isn't Brianna Hayes.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What is it?""
She swallowed.
"Isabelle Ward.""
The room went silent.
Celeste Ward's surname.
I stared at her.
"You're Celeste's daughter?""
Brianna nodded.
"She raised me. Victor was my biological father, but he never treated me like a daughter. He treated me like an investment.""
I tried to process the words.
"How old are you?""
"Twenty-two.""
I stared at her.
"You're five years older than me.""
"Yes.""
"Why did everyone say you were seventeen?""
"Because the false birth certificate made it easier for Celeste to keep us in the same household without attracting attention. She changed my records when she took Vanessa's identity.""
I felt sick.
For years, Brianna had used our supposed age difference to make herself seem more mature, more experienced, more deserving of everything.
But she'd been an adult for five years.
She'd been old enough to understand what she was doing.
Old enough to choose not to hurt me.
"Why are you telling me this now?"" I asked.
Brianna's eyes filled with tears.
"Because I didn't know everything when I was younger. I knew Celeste wasn't my real mother, but I thought she was protecting me. I thought Victor was dead. I thought your father had stolen money from our family.""
"And now?""
"Now I know what they did.""
She reached into her pocket and placed a folded document on the table.
It was a copy of a letter from Victor.
The date was seventeen years earlier.
The message was short.
The girl must remain under Celeste's supervision until Daniel returns. If he refuses to surrender the records, we will use Nia to force his hand.
I stared at the page.
Brianna wiped her face.
"I found it in Celeste's safe three years ago. That's when I learned you weren't just some poor relative she'd taken in.""
My voice was barely audible.
"You knew?""
"I knew you were connected to the money. I didn't know your father was alive.""
"You knew I was being used.""
She looked down.
"Yes.""
"And you still stole my dress.""
Her face crumpled.
"I was angry.""
"At me?""
"At everything.""
I laughed bitterly.
"So you punished me because your life wasn't what you wanted?""
Brianna didn't answer.
I stood.
"Do you know what I wanted? I wanted to enter a fashion competition. I wanted to make a living doing something I loved. I wanted someone to tell me that I was good at it.""
My voice shook.
"You had money, clothes, a beautiful bedroom, and every opportunity. I had a broken sewing machine and a stepmother who slapped me for defending my own work.""
Brianna began to cry.
"I know.""
"No, you don't.""
I pointed at the letter.
"You knew I was being used, and you said nothing. You let me believe I was worthless because it made you feel better.""
She covered her face.
"I was jealous of you.""
The admission surprised me.
"Why?""
"Because Celeste was always watching you. She told me that if you won the championship, everything would change. She said the money would become available, and Victor would finally return.""
I stared at her.
"So you stole my dress to stop me from winning?""
Brianna nodded.
"Celeste told me to ruin it. She said that if you couldn't compete, Daniel would have no reason to come out of hiding.""
My stomach twisted.
"The blue paint.""
"That was me.""
"You poured it on my dress.""
"Yes.""
"And when I made another one, you stole it.""
Brianna looked at me through her tears.
"I didn't think you'd finish another gown. I thought you'd give up.""
I remembered the nights I'd spent sewing until my hands hurt.
The red silk.
The crystals.
The embroidery.
I'd created that dress because I refused to let her destroy my dream.
And now I understood that my victory had threatened the entire plan.
"Why did you destroy my trophy?"" I asked.
Brianna's expression hardened.
"Because Celeste told me to.""
I stared at her.
"She ordered you to smash it?""
"She said the trophy would bring attention to you. She was afraid the judges would investigate your family after hearing about the stolen design.""
I felt a bitter laugh rising in my throat.
"So you destroyed the award because you were afraid I might be recognized for my work.""
Brianna nodded.
For a long moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked the question that mattered most.
"What happened to my father?""
Brianna looked toward Detective Morgan.
The detective nodded for her to continue.
Brianna drew a shaky breath.
"Seventeen years ago, Victor arranged a meeting with Daniel at a warehouse. Thomas gave him the location, but he didn't know what Victor planned to do.""
"How do you know?""
"Because I was there.""
I stared at her.
"You were seven.""
"I know.""
Her voice became distant.
"Celeste brought me because she said I needed to understand what happened when people betrayed Victor. I remember the warehouse. I remember the smell of oil and wet concrete. I remember Daniel standing beside a table with a briefcase.""
My hands went cold.
"What happened?""
"Victor demanded the financial records. Daniel refused. They argued. Then Victor hit him.""
Brianna began shaking.
"I ran toward them, but Celeste grabbed me. Daniel saw me. He told me to get out.""
I could barely breathe.
"What did Victor do?""
"He ordered one of his men to take Daniel away. Then he told Celeste that the records had to be found before anyone discovered what was happening.""
"Did they kill him?""
Brianna shook her head.
"I don't know. But three days later, Celeste received a call. She told Victor that Daniel had escaped.""
I stared at her.
"Escaped?""
"Yes.""
"Then why did they tell everyone he was dead?""
"Because Victor believed Daniel would eventually return for you. He wanted to make sure you stayed under Celeste's control.""
I sank into my chair.
My father had been alive.
My mother had been alive.
And I had spent eight years in the same house as the woman who knew what had happened.
Brianna wiped her face.
"There is something else.""
I looked up.
She reached into her bag and removed a small audio recorder.
"I found this in Victor's office last month. I haven't listened to all of it.""
Detective Morgan immediately took possession of the device.
"Where did you get this?""
"From a locked drawer in his house.""
"Why didn't you bring it to the police sooner?""
Brianna looked at me.
"Because the recording mentions Nia.""
My pulse hammered.
Detective Morgan connected the recorder to a laptop.
A few seconds of static filled the room.
Then a man's voice emerged.
Victor Hayes.
"Daniel is still alive. I don't care what it takes. Find him before he reaches the girl.""
Another voice responded.
Celeste.
"And if he does?""
Victor laughed.
"Then we make sure she never learns who her real father is.""
I covered my mouth.
The recording continued.
Celeste spoke again.
"What about the woman?""
Victor's voice dropped.
"She's already been taken care of.""
My blood turned to ice.
Then a third voice entered the recording.
A voice I recognized immediately.
Thomas Reed.
"If anything happens to Eleanor, I will make sure the police know everything.""
The recording crackled.
Victor laughed.
"You've already helped me once, Thomas. Don't pretend you're innocent now.""
The audio stopped.
Nobody moved.
I stared at the laptop.
Thomas had been there.
He had known more than he'd admitted.
And Victor had just confirmed that my mother had been taken somewhere against her will.
Detective Morgan closed the laptop.
"We'll have this recording examined and authenticated.""
I looked at Brianna.
"Why did you give it to me?""
She swallowed.
"Because I want to help you find your father.""
I stared at her.
"You want forgiveness.""
"Yes.""
The honesty surprised me.
Brianna wiped her cheeks.
"I know I don't deserve it. I know what I did to you was cruel. But I can't change the past.""
"No," I said.
"You can't.""
She looked at me.
"Will you ever forgive me?""
I thought about the stolen gown.
The ruined fabric.
The trophy shattered across the marble floor.
I thought about the nights I'd spent believing that the people around me were my family.
"I don't know.""
Brianna nodded.
"I understand.""
"No," I said quietly.
"You don't. But maybe one day you will.""
I stood and walked toward the door.
Then Brianna called after me.
"Nia!""
I stopped.
She reached into her pocket and removed a small folded photograph.
"I found this with the recorder.""
She handed it to me.
It showed my father standing beside a woman outside a building with a red door.
On the back was a date from three weeks earlier.
And beneath it, in my father's handwriting, were five words.
I'm coming home for her.
I stared at the photograph.
Three weeks earlier.
My father had been alive three weeks earlier.
And he had been planning to come back for me.
Before I could ask anything else, Detective Morgan's phone rang.
She listened for several seconds.
Then she looked at me.
"Nia, we have a problem.""
"What?""
"The house in Portland has been broken into.""
My heart stopped.
"Is my mother safe?""
"She is. Officers moved her to a secure location before the break-in.""
I let out a shaky breath.
"Then what's the problem?""
Detective Morgan turned toward the door.
"Someone left a message inside the house.""
She showed me a photograph on her phone.
Written across the mirror in red paint were six words.
*BRING NIA TO THE OLD WAREHOUSE.*
Beneath them was a time.
Tonight.
May you like
And a final sentence.
*OR YOUR FATHER DIES.*
