Chapter 4 - THE CHILD WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST
Dominic didn't move.
The sentence hung in the nursery like a threat.
“The baby in the photograph,” he said slowly.
Helen nodded.
“Who is she?”
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I swear.”
Dominic looked at the photograph.
His mother was holding the baby.
His father stood beside her.
The child wore the silver rose bracelet.
Rose wore the same bracelet.
Coincidence was no longer a word Dominic was willing to use.
He turned toward Rachel.
“Take Lily and the triplets downstairs.”
Rachel hesitated.
“Sir…”
“Please.”
Something in his voice made her understand.
She gathered Lily's hand.
The little girl stood.
Before leaving, she looked at Dominic.
“Don't lose the doll.”
He nodded.
“I won't.”
The door closed.
Dominic looked at Helen.
“Start at the beginning.”
Helen sat down.
“When I started working here, your father was still alive.”
“I know.”
“He made me promise something.”
“What?”
“To protect your children.”
Dominic frowned.
“My children weren't born yet.”
Helen looked down.
“That wasn't the promise.”
Dominic waited.
“He told me there was a child in your family who would be in danger if the truth came out.”
“Who?”
“I didn't know.”
“Then what did he tell you?”
“That one day a woman named Rachel Bennett would bring a little girl here.”
Dominic's expression changed.
“You knew Rachel?”
“Before she worked here.”
“How?”
Helen shook her head.
“Your father arranged it.”
Dominic stood.
“So my father hired Rachel?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“He made sure she was hired.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Why?”
Helen began crying.
“Because your father believed someone was watching her.”
“Who?”
“I never found out.”
Dominic walked toward the window.
Outside, rain had started falling.
He remembered his father's final year.
The old man had become secretive.
He stopped attending family dinners.
He locked his study.
He stopped discussing business.
Dominic had assumed it was age.
Maybe illness.
Maybe regret.
Now he wondered whether his father had been preparing for something.
“Did my father know about the triplets?”
Helen nodded.
“He knew you were having children.”
“How?”
“Your mother.”
Dominic turned.
“My mother was dead.”
Helen hesitated.
“She left letters.”
“To whom?”
“To your father.”
“Where are they?”
“I don't know.”
Dominic looked at the doll.
“What does the key open?”
Helen stared at it.
“I don't know.”
“Liar.”
“I swear.”
She looked toward the door.
“Your father told me one thing.”
“What?”
“If Dominic ever finds the doll, he must not open the door.”
“What door?”
Helen began shaking.
“The old library.”
Dominic frowned.
“The library has been closed for years.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Because that's where your mother kept the baby records.”
Dominic's heart stopped.
“What baby records?”
Helen looked at him.
“The truth about your family.”
Before he could respond, Marco entered.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We found Daniel.”
“Where?”
“At his apartment.”
“Alive?”
Marco nodded.
“But there's a problem.”
“What?”
“He left this.”
Marco placed a small envelope on the table.
Dominic opened it.
Inside was a train ticket.
Chicago to Boston.
Tomorrow morning.
No return date.
On the back, Daniel had written:
I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THE BABY. BUT I KNOW WHO DID.
Dominic looked at Marco.
“Find him.”
“We're trying.”
“No.”
Dominic folded the ticket.
“I'm going myself.”
Marco shook his head.
“Sir, that could be a trap.”
“Everything tonight could be a trap.”
He walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“What about the library?”
Marco looked confused.
Dominic handed him the key.
“Open it.”
The old library door had not been opened in four years.
Dust covered the shelves.
The room smelled of leather, paper, and cedar.
Dominic entered alone.
The key fit a small cabinet behind his father's desk.
Inside were dozens of envelopes.
Birth certificates.
Hospital records.
Photographs.
Letters.
He found his mother's handwriting immediately.
The first letter was dated twenty-seven years ago.
I cannot let Dominic know yet.
His breath caught.
He read the next line.
If he learns the truth, his brother will use the child against him.
Dominic stopped.
Brother?
He had no brother.
He had always been an only child.
He kept reading.
The child is safe with Eleanor.
Dominic's heart pounded.
Eleanor was the name of his mother's younger sister.
She had died twenty-five years earlier.
The next letter was worse.
The baby is not ours by blood, but she is ours by promise.
Dominic stared at the words.
Not ours by blood.
His mother had been protecting someone else's child.
Then another document fell from the envelope.
A hospital bracelet.
The name printed on it was almost faded.
MARA BENNETT.
Dominic knew the surname.
Rachel.
He went completely still.
Rachel Bennett.
Lily Bennett.
His maid's daughter.
He read the date.
Twenty-seven years ago.
The same year as the photograph.
Dominic suddenly understood why Rachel had looked terrified when he mentioned his mother's name.
Rachel hadn't been hiding a secret about herself.
She had been hiding a secret about Lily.
But Lily was five.
The dates didn't match.
Unless…
Dominic grabbed another file.
Inside was a photograph of a young woman.
Rachel's mother.
Standing beside Dominic's mother.
And between them was a baby.
The same baby from the first photograph.
Dominic stared at the child's face.
Then he noticed something on the baby's wrist.
The silver rose bracelet.
The same bracelet Rose wore.
But underneath the photograph was a handwritten note.
MARA IS NOT THE CHILD'S NAME.
Dominic's pulse raced.
He opened the final envelope.
Inside was a child's drawing.
A house.
Three little children.
A woman.
And an old man standing outside the window.
At the bottom, written in a child's uneven handwriting, were the words:
GRANDPA COMES WHEN THE LIGHTS GO OUT.
Dominic recognized the handwriting.
Lily.
He stared at the drawing.
Then the nursery lights suddenly flickered.
Once.
May you like
Twice.
And went completely dark.
