Chapter 4 - THREE BEDS BENEATH THE EARTH
Miriam survived the shooting, but she did not regain consciousness.
At Bellmere General Hospital, security guards blocked the corridor while police questioned Ava, Lena, and Thomas separately. The attackers had left no fingerprints. The black sedan had false plates. The bullet recovered from the wall came from a weapon reported destroyed fifteen years earlier.
By morning, the local news described the incident as an attempted robbery.
Ava watched the broadcast from a private room and understood that Margaret already controlled the story.
Ethan arrived just after sunrise.
He crossed the room in three strides and knelt before Ava. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“I was told there was a shooting.”
“There was.”
“Why did you leave the house without telling me?”
“I went to find the truth your family buried.”
His relief hardened into anger. “You could have been killed.”
“So could Miriam.”
“Who is Miriam?”
“Your aunt.”
Ethan went still.
Ava gave him the photograph of the two babies and the copy of the hospital log. He read them in silence.
“My mother said she had no living sister,” he said.
“She lied.”
“Or this woman lied.”
Ava felt something break between them, not trust exactly, but the assumption that trust would always be available.
“Your aunt was shot while protecting me,” she said. “Choose your next words carefully.”
Ethan sat down. “I am not accusing you. I am trying to understand why every answer appears designed to turn me against my mother.”
“Perhaps because your mother has done terrible things.”
“Perhaps someone wants us to believe that.”
Ava looked at him. “Do you believe she arranged my accident?”
His silence was the answer.
Ethan rubbed his face. “I discovered a payment from the family trust to the technician who inspected your car. The payment was approved by Charles Wren.”
“When did you discover it?”
“Three weeks ago.”
“And you did not tell me.”
“I was investigating.”
“You were protecting her.”
“I was protecting you from an accusation I could not prove.”
“No. You were protecting yourself from what proof might mean.”
He rose. “Come back to the house with me.”
“Why?”
“So I can keep you safe.”
“The danger lives there.”
“Then I will remove it.”
Ava studied his face. Beneath the anger, she saw fear. Not fear for Margaret. Fear of memory.
“What do you remember about the cellar?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You said sick before I did.”
He looked away.
“Ethan.”
“When I was a child, I had dreams about another boy.”
“What kind of dreams?”
“He was behind glass. Sometimes he copied everything I did. Sometimes I copied him. I told my father once. He struck me so hard I lost a tooth.”
Ava reached for his hand.
He continued, “After that, Dr. Kessler gave me injections for sleep. The dreams stopped.”
“Or the memories did.”
Ethan closed his eyes.
They returned to Blackwood House under police escort. Margaret waited in the entrance hall as though welcoming guests after a storm. Her black dress was immaculate. Her pearl earrings matched the key hidden in Ava’s coat pocket.
“I heard what happened,” Margaret said. “Miriam always invited disaster.”
Ethan’s head snapped toward her. “You knew she was alive.”
Margaret’s expression did not change. “Of course.”
“You told me she died before I was born.”
“She was dead to this family.”
Ava said, “Someone tried to kill us.”
Margaret looked at the bandage on Ava’s wrist. “And yet you returned.”
“Disappointed?”
“Curious.”
Ethan stepped between them. “Did I have a twin?”
The house seemed to listen.
Margaret’s face softened, and for one dangerous moment she looked not powerful but old.
“You had a brother,” she said.
Ethan’s breath caught.
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Before he was given a life worth remembering.”
“That is not an answer.”
“It is the only one you are ready to hear.”
Ethan moved closer. “Was he kept beneath this house?”
Margaret slapped him.
The sound echoed through the hall.
Everyone froze, including Margaret.
Ethan touched his cheek. “That is what Father did when I asked about the boy behind the glass.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with something like horror.
Then she turned and walked away.
That night, Ava used Miriam’s key.
The hidden door in the library opened without a sound.
Beyond it lay a narrow passage leading to a room without windows. Dust covered metal filing cabinets. Medical diagrams hung on the walls. A child’s height had been marked in pencil beside the door year after year.
Ethan found Ava standing before three narrow beds.
One was labeled E.B.
One was labeled E.V.
The third was labeled A.K.
Adrian Kessler entered behind them.
May you like
He locked the door.
“My father always said,” he whispered, “the third child was the one who should have inherited everything.”
