Chapter 6 - The Letter With My Name
I read the sentence until the words stopped resembling language.
Jenna must never learn that Robert is not her father.
Sofia took the paper from my hand.
“This could be fake.”
“It has my name.”
“Anyone can write a name.”
Rachel photographed both sides.
“The paper looks old, but that proves nothing.”
“My mother knew Eleanor. Eleanor was her biological mother. If Eleanor wrote this…”
“Then we still don’t know what she meant.”
The front door closed as Officer Hale returned.
“Lucas Voss is being transported for questioning. He has an outstanding warrant in another state related to financial trespass.”
I almost laughed.
“Financial trespass?”
“Entering secured commercial property to obtain records.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“He claims he is an investigative accountant.”
“Is he?”
“We’re checking.”
I showed Hale the torn letter.
His expression remained neutral, but he read it twice.
“Did this come directly from him?”
“It fell near the passage after he was arrested.”
“I’ll need to take it as evidence.”
“Can I keep a photograph?”
“Yes.”
He sealed the paper in a clear bag.
Behind him, the open passage waited like a mouth.
“Did you search the room?” I asked.
“We conducted a safety check. It connects to an old maintenance tunnel. No one else is inside.”
“What about the wall behind the furnace?”
“We didn’t disturb the structure.”
Rachel crossed her arms.
“Lucas claimed Eleanor hid a ledger.”
Hale sighed.
“I strongly recommend that you stop searching the house tonight.”
“Would you stop?” Sofia asked.
“No,” he admitted. “But I’m paid to make better decisions than the people I protect.”
By two in the morning, everyone had left except Sofia.
She refused to let me stay alone.
We slept in the living room because most of the bedrooms were filled with my relatives’ furniture.
At 5:40 a.m., I woke to the sound of someone entering the kitchen.
I reached for my phone.
Sofia appeared in the doorway holding a lamp like a weapon.
My father stood near the island.
He looked exhausted.
“How did you get inside?” I asked.
“The officer gave me permission to collect medication from one of the boxes. He said I should call first. I did. You didn’t answer.”
I checked my phone.
Three missed calls.
My father noticed the open passage down the hall.
“What happened?”
“Someone was inside the sealed room.”
He stared at me.
“Who?”
“Lucas Voss.”
Recognition crossed his face.
It disappeared too quickly.
“You know him,” I said.
“No.”
“You reacted.”
“I reacted because someone was hiding under the house.”
I walked closer.
“Who is my biological father?”
The color drained from his face.
Sofia quietly moved between him and the front door.
My father sat at the island.
“Where did that come from?”
“A letter.”
“What letter?”
I showed him the photograph.
His hands began to shake.
“Dad.”
He closed his eyes.
“Your mother promised this would never reach you.”
The pain that followed was physical.
It moved through my chest and settled behind my ribs.
“So it’s true.”
He looked at me.
“I am your father.”
“That is not what the letter says.”
“I raised you. I held you when you were sick. I taught you to ride a bicycle.”
“I am not asking who raised me.”
His eyes filled with tears.
I had seen my father cry only once before, at his own mother’s funeral.
“Your mother was already pregnant when we married.”
“Did you know?”
“Yes.”
“Who was he?”
“She said she didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“She said it happened at a party. She had been drinking. She did not remember his name.”
The answer felt rehearsed.
“Did you believe her?”
“I chose to.”
“Did Eleanor know?”
“I didn’t know Eleanor existed.”
“Was Ethan yours?”
His face tightened.
“Yes.”
The difference between us had always been explained as personality. Ethan looked like my father. I looked like my mother.
Now I wondered how many people had noticed something else.
“Why did Mom think Eleanor stole this house from her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You lived with her for thirty-five years.”
“That does not mean she told me the truth.”
It was the most honest thing he had ever said about their marriage.
Sofia placed coffee on the island but did not speak.
My father looked around the kitchen.
“I’m sorry we came here.”
“You thought it was Ethan’s house.”
“Your mother said he had found a private investment opportunity.”
“And that made it acceptable to move in before he had keys?”
“We had keys.”
“You didn’t have ownership.”
He lowered his head.
“We wanted to believe him.”
“Why?”
“Because he needed a victory.”
I laughed once.
“What did I need?”
He looked at me.
I could see the answer forming too late.
Support.
Protection.
Recognition.
A family that asked before taking.
“I thought you were doing well,” he said.
“So that meant I needed nothing?”
“No.”
“It always meant that.”
He reached for my hand.
I stepped back.
The movement hurt him.
I let it.
“Tell me everything you know about Eleanor.”
He took a breath.
“Your mother began receiving letters when you were about six months old. She hid them at first. Then one evening, she told me her biological mother had found her.”
“What did Eleanor want?”
“To meet you.”
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
His silence answered.
“When?”
“Several times.”
I gripped the island.
“I was brought here?”
“I don’t know if it was this house. Your mother took you away for afternoons. She said you were visiting a friend.”
Fragments surfaced.
A garden near water.
A room with blue wallpaper.
An older woman singing while brushing my hair.
I had always thought they were pieces of a dream.
“Why did it stop?”
My father looked toward the east wing.
“One night, your mother returned terrified. She packed a bag and said Eleanor wanted to take you from us.”
“Why?”
“She claimed Eleanor believed you were in danger.”
“From whom?”
“She never told me.”
A floorboard creaked in the hallway.
Sofia turned.
The house was empty.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered cautiously.
A man’s voice said, “Your father is lying about the party.”
“Who is this?”
“Victor Lane.”
My father stood so quickly that the chair fell backward.
Victor continued.
May you like
“Ask Robert where he was the night you were conceived.”
The call ended.
