Chapter 7 - The Voice from the Grave
I didn't open the letter until everyone was asleep.
The boys were tucked in,
exhausted from a day of playing with their new "cousin,"
and James was on the sofa,
refusing to come to our bed.
The house was finally still,
the only sound the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the dining room.
I sat by the window in the nursery—the room that used to be the playroom—and carefully slit the envelope.
The paper inside was thin,
almost translucent,
as if it were fading away along with its author.
Dear Sarah,
the letter began,
the script shaky and rushed.
I know you hate me.
I know you have every reason to.
James told me how much you wanted a daughter,
and I know how cruel it must seem that I am the one who got to have her.
I am writing this because I am dying.
The doctors don't say it in so many words,
but I can feel my body giving up.
I've spent years running from the mess I made,
running from the parents who wanted to erase me,
and running from the brother who was the only good thing I ever had.
I paused,
wiping a stray tear from my eye.
The honesty of the words was a sharp contrast to the lies James had told me.
James didn't lie to you because he didn't trust you,
the letter continued,
as if she could read my mind across the void.
He lied because I begged him to.
I told him I would disappear again if he told you I was alive.
I was ashamed,
Sarah.
I was high,
I was broke,
and I was a shadow of a person.
I didn't want the perfect Sarah to look at me and see the failure I had become.
I felt a pang of guilt.
The "perfect Sarah."
Is that how she saw me?
As a judge?
But when I found out I was pregnant,
everything changed.
I knew I couldn't keep her.
And I knew I couldn't let my parents have her.
They would turn her into a trophy,
another chance to fix the mistakes they made with me.
She needs a mother who knows how to love boys into men.
She needs you.
I looked at the baby sleeping in the bassinet.
She looked so peaceful,
unaware of the burden her mother had placed on my shoulders.
There is one more thing you need to know,
the letter went on,
the ink smudging as if the writer had been crying.
The man who is her father...
he isn't a good man.
He doesn't know about her,
and he can never know.
His name is Julian Vane.
If he ever finds out she exists,
he will take her,
not because he wants her,
but because he wants to hurt me.
Please,
Sarah.
Give her your name.
Give her your life.
And please,
forgive James.
He only ever wanted to be the bridge between two worlds that should have never met.
With hope,
Elena.
I folded the letter back into the envelope,
my hands trembling.
The weight of the secret had shifted from James to me.
Julian Vane.
The name sounded like a threat,
a shadow lurking in the corners of the room.
I realized then that this wasn't just about a baby.
This was about a war that Elena had been fighting for years,
a war that she had just handed over to me.
I looked at the baby,
and for the first time,
I didn't see the betrayal.
I didn't see James's lies or his parents' shame.
I saw a little girl who was being hunted by a ghost of her own.
I reached into the bassinet and picked her up,
holding her close to my chest.
"I've got you,"
I whispered,
the words a vow.
"I've got you,
Maya."
I realized then that I couldn't keep her a secret.
I couldn't live the way James had lived.
If Julian Vane was coming,
I needed to be ready.
And I couldn't do it alone.
I stood up and walked down the stairs,
finding James asleep on the sofa,
his face lined with the stress of the last few days.
I touched his shoulder,
and he jumped,
his eyes wide and disoriented.
"Sarah?"
he asked,
his voice thick with sleep.
"We need to talk,"
I said,
handing him the letter.
"And this time,
you're going to tell me every single thing you know about Julian Vane."
The look of pure terror that crossed his face told me everything I needed to know.
The nightmare was far from over.
May you like
In fact,
it was only just beginning.
