Chapter 5 - The House With Two Doors
Claire returned to the Barrett house the next morning.
She hadn't been there since the funeral.
The house looked exactly the same.
That was what frightened her.
The white curtains.
The stone fireplace.
The family portraits.
The polished staircase.
Everything was arranged as if nothing had ever happened.
Linda was waiting in the living room.
Mark stood behind her.
Rachel sat on the sofa.
Ethan stayed outside.
Claire walked in.
"Where's Mom?"
Linda looked at her.
"You called me Mom yesterday."
"You said I wasn't your daughter."
Linda's expression tightened.
"I was angry."
"So was I."
Mark stepped forward.
"Can we stop this?"
Claire looked at him.
"Did you know about the trust?"
Mark hesitated.
That was enough.
Claire laughed softly.
"You knew."
"Claire..."
"How long?"
"I found out recently."
"How recently?"
"Months."
Rachel looked away.
Claire turned to her.
"And you?"
Rachel whispered.
"I was afraid."
Claire nodded.
"Everyone was afraid."
She looked at Linda.
"Except you."
Linda said nothing.
Claire walked toward the study.
Linda immediately moved in front of her.
"You can't go in there."
"Why?"
"Because it was your father's room."
"He was my father."
"I know."
"Then move."
Linda didn't.
Claire stared at her.
"What is behind that door?"
"Nothing."
"Then let me see."
"No."
Claire's voice became quieter.
"What are you hiding?"
Linda's eyes filled with tears.
"Something that was never supposed to reach you."
Claire opened her handbag.
She removed the photograph.
The one from the folder.
She held it up.
"Who is Thomas Barrett?"
Linda's face went white.
Mark looked confused.
"Who's Thomas?"
Claire looked at him.
"You don't know?"
"No."
Linda whispered.
"Where did you get that?"
"My father left it."
"No."
"You recognize him."
"Claire..."
"Who is he?"
Linda stepped backward.
"He was your father's brother."
Claire stared at her.
"My father had a brother?"
Linda said nothing.
"Why didn't I know?"
"Because he died."
"When?"
"Before you were born."
"How?"
Linda looked at Mark.
Then Rachel.
Then Claire.
"He was killed."
"By who?"
Linda's lips trembled.
"We never found out."
Claire studied her mother's face.
"Then why were you afraid of the photograph?"
Linda didn't answer.
Claire turned toward the study door.
Linda grabbed her wrist.
"Don't."
Claire looked down at her mother's hand.
Then back at her face.
"You've spent my entire life telling me what I was allowed to know."
She gently pulled away.
"I'm done."
She opened the door.
The study smelled exactly as she remembered.
Leather.
Paper.
Her father's cologne.
Claire walked to the desk.
The drawers were locked.
She tried the first.
Nothing.
The second.
Nothing.
The third opened.
Inside was a small brass key.
And beneath it was an envelope.
Claire picked it up.
Her name was written across the front.
Claire Barrett.
Do not open until Linda tells you the truth.
Claire turned around.
Linda was standing in the doorway.
Tears were running down her face.
Claire held up the envelope.
"Did you know this was here?"
Linda whispered.
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Six years."
Claire's heart sank.
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
Linda looked at her.
"Because your father asked me not to."
Claire stared at her.
"My father was dead."
"I know."
"Then why did you obey him?"
Linda closed her eyes.
"Because he knew what would happen if you opened it too soon."
Claire looked at the envelope again.
"What happens now?"
May you like
Linda whispered.
"I don't know."
