Chapter 8: The Truth Hidden in the Walls
I showed Ryan the message at breakfast.
The moment he saw the photo, all color left his face.
“You know this number?””
“No.””
He stared at the screen.
“That picture was never supposed to exist.””
I looked at him.
“Why?””
“Because I wasn’t alone.””
My stomach tightened.
“What does that mean?””
Ryan sat down slowly.
“After the funeral, someone came to the house.””
“Who?””
He hesitated.
“Diane’s brother.””
I frowned.
“You never mentioned him.””
“Because my mother told me never to.””
“Why?””
Ryan looked at the photo again.
“Because he knew what happened that night.””
The room felt colder.
“What was his name?””
“Thomas.””
“Where is he now?””
Ryan shook his head.
“I don’t know.””
The answer bothered me.
Because it sounded impossible.
How could someone connected to such a huge secret simply disappear?
We went back to the old house that afternoon.
The police had released it after collecting evidence.
I didn’t want to go inside.
Every room felt different now.
The kitchen where Diane controlled everything.
The cabinet where she kept the medication.
The hallway where she smiled while hiding things.
Ryan walked ahead.
He looked exhausted.
“I should have told you.””
“Yes.””
He nodded.
“I know.””
I almost smiled bitterly.
“There’s that word again.””
He looked at me.
“I’m trying.””
“I know.””
And that was the problem.
He was trying now.
But Lily needed protection before now.
Ryan stopped near the staircase.
“This is where my father fell.””
I looked at the steps.
Nothing about them looked dangerous.
Just wood.
Just a staircase.
But sometimes ordinary things carried terrible memories.
“Did anyone investigate?””
“Yes.””
“Properly?””
He didn’t answer.
I looked at him.
“Ryan.””
“No.””
My heart sank.
“Why not?””
“Because my mother controlled the story.””
He walked toward the wall.
“After my father died, she renovated this area.””
“Why?””
“I don’t know.””
He touched the wall.
“She said it was because she hated looking at the stairs.””
I looked around.
“Wait.””
Something felt wrong.
“What?””
Ryan pointed.
“This wall wasn’t here before.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“When I was a kid, this hallway was wider.””
He stepped closer.
“I remember because my father built a bookshelf here.””
He ran his hand along the wall.
“Mom removed it after he died.””
I stared.
“You think she hid something?””
Ryan didn’t answer.
But he started searching.
A few minutes later, he found a loose piece of wood behind an old cabinet.
Inside was a small envelope.
My breath caught.
Ryan opened it.
Inside was a letter.
The handwriting was shaky.
My husband read it silently.
Then his face changed.
“What?””
He handed it to me.
The letter was from Ryan’s father.
*Ryan,*
*If you are reading this, something happened and your mother did not want you to know the truth.*
My hands trembled.
*Your mother is not who you think she is. She has been hiding things from you for years.*
I looked at Ryan.
He looked terrified.
The letter continued.
*The medication she gives you is not for your health. It is to keep you dependent.*
My heart stopped.
Ryan whispered:
“No.””
I kept reading.
*I found records. She has been changing my medication too. She wants everyone around her easier to control.*
I looked up.
The pattern.
Lily.
Ryan.
His father.
The same thing.
The same cycle.
At the bottom of the page was one final sentence.
*If anything happens to me, trust no one who says they are protecting you.*
The room went silent.
Then Ryan’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His face drained.
“Who is it?””
He answered.
“Hello?””
I watched his expression change.
“Where?””
A pause.
“No, that’s impossible.””
He looked at me.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Thomas is alive.””
