Chapter 9: The House Beneath the Floor
By sunrise, my name was already attached to Vanessa's murder.
The police hadn't arrested me yet.
But they were looking.
Daniel found that out from an old contact.
Sarah wanted us to leave town.
I refused.
“If I run, they win.””
“You have a murder accusation,” she said.
“I also have evidence.””
“Not enough.””
“The video.””
“Your father's confession is damaged.””
“We still have most of it.””
“And Victor knows.””
I looked at Emma.
She was asleep on the motel bed, curled against Mason.
“No more running.””
Sarah looked at me.
For a moment, she looked like the woman I remembered.
“My stubborn Michael.””
I almost smiled.
“You remembered that?””
“I remembered everything.””
We left the motel before noon.
Daniel drove.
Sarah sat beside me.
The children were in the back.
Nobody spoke for several miles.
Finally, I asked:
“Why didn't you tell me about Emma?””
Sarah looked out the window.
“Because I thought telling you would get you killed.””
“She was five months old when you disappeared.””
“I know.””
“And Vanessa raised her.””
“I know.””
“You watched from somewhere?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“Through people I trusted.””
I looked at her.
“You never came back.””
“I tried once.””
“What happened?””
“Vanessa found me.””
My jaw tightened.
“She threatened Emma.””
“She threatened to kill her?””
“No.””
Sarah looked at me.
“She threatened to make you hate her.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“She told me she would convince you that I had abandoned you.””
“She did.””
Sarah closed her eyes.
“I know.””
The car became silent.
Then Emma woke.
“Mommy?””
Sarah turned around.
“I'm here.””
“Are we going home?””
Sarah looked at me.
I answered.
“Yes.””
Emma smiled.
“Daddy's coming too?””
“Yes.””
She fell asleep again.
The old house stood at the end of a dead road.
The paint had peeled away.
The windows were boarded.
My childhood home.
I hadn't been inside since my father's funeral.
I stepped through the front door.
The smell hit me immediately.
Dust.
Old wood.
Something faintly metallic.
Memories came rushing back.
My father's workshop.
His desk.
The basement stairs.
I walked down.
Sarah followed.
“You remember?””
“Pieces.””
At the bottom, I stopped.
The workbench was still there.
I moved it.
Underneath was a section of wooden flooring.
I pried up the boards.
Nothing.
“Maybe we're wrong,” Daniel said.
I looked closer.
One board was newer than the others.
I pulled it up.
A steel box was hidden underneath.
My hands shook.
Sarah whispered:
“That's it.””
Inside was a ledger.
Black cover.
Hundreds of pages.
And a small envelope.
My name was written on it.
I opened it.
A handwritten note.
*Michael, if Sarah gave you this, believe her.*
I sat down.
The letter continued.
*The money was never the point. The ledger is proof of who controlled everything. Victor is only one part.*
I turned the page.
Names.
Companies.
Bank accounts.
Dates.
Payments.
Then I saw something that made my stomach drop.
*Vanessa Carter.*
Not Reeves.
Not Vanessa Hale.
Carter.
She had been using my surname before we were married.
I looked at Sarah.
“What is this?””
She took the ledger.
Her face changed.
“She married you before.””
“What?””
Sarah pointed to the entry.
“Seven years ago.””
I stared.
“That was impossible.””
“No.””
She turned another page.
There it was.
A marriage certificate number.
My name.
Vanessa's name.
A date before Sarah and I supposedly separated.
I felt dizzy.
Sarah whispered:
“Michael…”
I shook my head.
“No.””
“You need to remember.””
“I married you.””
“Yes.””
“Then how did I marry her?””
Sarah looked toward Daniel.
He answered quietly.
“Because the marriage certificate was forged.””
I looked at the ledger again.
“By who?””
Daniel pointed to a signature.
“Your father.””
I felt sick.
My father had forged my identity.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Sarah turned another page.
There was a photograph.
Victor.
Vanessa.
Thomas.
My father.
And Sarah.
All standing together.
Sarah stared at it.
“I've never seen this.””
I looked at her.
“You're in the photograph.””
“I know.””
“But you don't remember it.””
“No.””
Daniel examined the date.
“This was taken eight years ago.””
Sarah shook her head.
“I didn't know them then.””
I looked closer.
Sarah was holding something.
A baby.
My baby.
Emma.
I felt the room tilt.
“That's impossible.””
Daniel zoomed in.
Sarah's face went pale.
“That isn't Emma.””
I stared at the photograph.
The baby had a small birthmark beneath her left eye.
Emma didn't.
Sarah whispered:
“That was another baby.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
She backed away.
“Michael, I think…”
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
We all froze.
Daniel reached for the flashlight.
“Someone's here.””
Footsteps crossed the hallway.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then stopped above us.
I grabbed the ledger.
Sarah pulled Emma close.
Mason stood beside me.
A voice came from upstairs.
“Michael.””
My blood went cold.
I knew that voice.
Victor.
“Bring me the ledger.””
I looked at Sarah.
She shook her head.
“No.””
Victor's footsteps moved toward the basement stairs.
Then another voice spoke behind him.
A woman's voice.
Calm.
Familiar.
Vanessa.
“Let him have it.””
I stopped breathing.
Sarah stared at the ceiling.
“But…”
The woman upstairs laughed.
“You really thought I was dead?””
A shadow appeared on the basement wall.
Then Vanessa stepped onto the stairs.
Her face was bruised.
Blood stained one side of her coat.
But she was alive.
She smiled at me.
“Hello, husband.””
My hands tightened around the ledger.
Vanessa looked at Emma.
Then at Sarah.
And finally at me.
“You've been asking the wrong question all night.””
“What question?””
She smiled.
“You keep asking who Lily's mother is.””
She descended one more step.
“You should be asking…”
May you like
Her eyes moved to the child in Sarah's arms.
“…which baby came home from the hospital six years ago.””
