The front door of Little Pines opened slowly.
Emily stepped inside.
She was wearing the same gray coat she had worn at Lucy’s funeral.
For one second, I couldn’t move.
My sister looked exactly the way she had looked five days earlier when she stood beside me at the cemetery, holding my arm while I watched my daughter’s tiny coffin disappear beneath the ground.
She had cried with me.
She had told me to breathe.
She had whispered, “None of this is your fault.”
Now she stood ten feet away from me in the dark daycare, and I suddenly understood how easily a lie could wear the face of someone you loved.
“Emily.”
She looked at me.
Her eyes were red.
But she wasn’t crying.
“Natalie,” she whispered.
Grant moved between us.
“What are you doing here?”
Emily didn’t look at him.
“I came because she deserves the truth.”
I laughed once.
It wasn’t a happy sound.
“Now?”
Emily flinched.
“Yes.”
“After seven years?”
Her face changed.
Grant stepped toward her.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
Emily finally looked at him.
“You shouldn’t have followed her here.”
“I was trying to protect her.”
“You’ve been saying that for seven years.”
I stared at both of them.
Seven years.
They spoke like two people who had shared a secret long before I knew there was a secret.
I felt something inside me harden.
“Enough.”
They both looked at me.
I held up my phone.
“I want answers.”
Emily nodded slowly.
“You deserve them.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t tell me what I deserve. Tell me what you did.”
Emily looked down.
“You’re right.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you give away my baby?”
Her lips trembled.
“Yes.”
The word hit me harder than I expected.
I knew.
I had known for minutes.
But hearing it from her made everything real.
“You told me she died.”
Emily closed her eyes.
“I know.”
“You let me grieve a child who was alive.”
“I know.”
“You watched me go to her funeral.”
“I know.”
“You stood beside me while I buried an empty grave.”
Emily started crying.
“I know.”
I slapped her.
She didn’t move.
Paige gasped.
Grant looked away.
My hand burned.
But the pain inside me was worse.
“Why?”
Emily wiped her cheek.
“Because I thought I was saving you.”
“Saving me?”
“You were in danger.”
“So you stole my daughter?”
“I was trying to keep you alive.”
“You don’t get to call that saving.”
Emily looked at me.
“I know.”
Her voice was barely audible.
“I know now.”
I shook my head.
“No. You don’t get to say that.”
I pointed at the flash drive.
“Tell me everything.”
Emily looked at Grant.
He shook his head.
“Not here.”
I turned toward him.
“You’re done deciding what I can handle.”
“Natalie—”
“No.”
I stepped closer.
“For five days, I believed I killed my daughter.”
My voice cracked.
“For seven years, apparently, everyone around me knew pieces of my life that I didn’t know.”
I looked at Emily.
“You’re going to tell me.”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
She took a breath.
“Seven years ago, you were pregnant.”
“I know.”
“You were eight months along when things started.”
“What things?”
“People began asking questions about you.”
“Who?”
“Vanessa’s group.”
I frowned.
“What’s Vanessa’s group?”
Emily hesitated.
“I don’t know what they called themselves.”
“Try.”
“An adoption network.”
Grant interrupted.
“It wasn’t an ordinary adoption network.”
Emily looked at him.
“I know.”
She turned back to me.
“They found women who were vulnerable. Pregnant women. Women with financial problems. Women with abusive partners. Women who were alone.”
My stomach twisted.
“They convinced them to give up their babies.”
“Legally?”
“Sometimes.”
“And mine?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“Yours was never supposed to be given away.”
I stared at her.
“Then what happened?”
Emily looked at the floor.
“You found out something.”
“What?”
“You discovered that Vanessa was selling information about newborns.”
I blinked.
“What information?”
“Medical records. Family histories. Adoption paperwork. Everything.”
“Why would that matter to me?”
“Because one of the babies had a serious medical condition.”
I frowned.
“What baby?”
Emily looked at me.
“Yours.”
I felt cold.
“What condition?”
“An allergy.”
I stopped breathing.
Paige looked at me.
Grant’s face tightened.
I whispered, “No.”
Emily nodded.
“Your baby had a severe dairy allergy.”
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“You were told she was healthy.”
“She was healthy.”
“That’s what you believed.”
“What are you saying?”
Emily took a step toward me.
“The records showed that your daughter had a severe allergy.”
I shook my head.
“Lucy had a severe dairy allergy.”
Emily’s face went pale.
“I know.”
My heart began pounding.
“You’re saying…”
I couldn’t finish.
Emily did.
“The child you lost seven years ago had the same allergy.”
I stumbled backward.
Paige grabbed my shoulder.
“No.”
I looked at Grant.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Grant?”
He finally looked at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I felt sick.
“What does that mean?”
He swallowed.
“It means Vanessa knew about the allergy before Lucy was born.”
My mind raced.
Seven years ago.
My first daughter.
A baby with a severe dairy allergy.
A baby supposedly dead.
Then four years later, Lucy.
Also with a severe dairy allergy.
And Vanessa had returned.
I whispered, “Why did she target Lucy?”
Grant shook his head.
“She didn’t.”
I stared at him.
“Then who did?”
He didn’t answer.
Emily did.
“Someone wanted you to believe Lucy was the same child.”
I froze.
“What?”
Emily continued.
“They knew you had lost your memory.”
My stomach turned.
“They knew I wouldn’t remember?”
“Not everything.”
“Why?”
“Because after the accident, you couldn’t remember the pregnancy.”
I looked at Grant.
“You said I lost the baby.”
“I said that’s what you believed.”
Emily whispered, “There was never a funeral.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“For the first baby.”
“You told me she was buried.”
Emily nodded.
“I lied.”
My knees almost gave out.
“Where is she?”
Emily looked toward the door.
“She’s alive.”
I closed my eyes.
For seven years, I had thought my first child was gone.
Now I had a photograph.
A face.
A silver moon pendant.
And a sister who had finally admitted the truth.
“Where does she live?”
Emily didn’t answer.
“Where?”
“I can’t tell you.”
My anger returned instantly.
“You can’t?”
“I promised.”
“To Vanessa?”
Emily shook her head.
“To the people who have her.”
I stared at her.
“People?”
“She’s not with Vanessa.”
“Then who has her?”
Emily’s eyes filled with tears.
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You’re her aunt.”
“I haven’t seen her in years.”
“Then how do you know she’s alive?”
“Because I received proof.”
“What proof?”
Emily reached inside her coat.
She pulled out an envelope.
My name was written on it.
NATALIE.
My hands shook as I took it.
Inside was a photograph.
The same little girl from the message.
She was standing beside the swing.
But this photograph was older.
The girl was perhaps five.
She was holding a stuffed rabbit.
I stared at it.
The rabbit looked familiar.
White fur.
One ear slightly bent.
A pink ribbon around its neck.
I whispered, “That rabbit.”
Emily nodded.
“It was yours.”
I looked at her.
“Mine?”
“It belonged to you when you were a child.”
I shook my head.
“I gave it to the baby.”
My chest tightened.
“How did she get it?”
Emily said nothing.
I looked at Grant.
He closed his eyes.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“Again.”
He nodded.
“The first time Vanessa came back.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she threatened you.”
“With what?”
“With the truth.”
I laughed bitterly.
“The truth was already killing me.”
Grant stepped toward me.
“Natalie, Vanessa knew that if you remembered the first child, you would start looking for her.”
“Exactly.”
“And if you found her, the people who took her would come after you.”
I stared at him.
“So instead you let me believe she was dead.”
He nodded.
“I thought that was safer.”
“You were wrong.”
“I know.”
I turned toward Emily.
“Why did you help them?”
She began crying again.
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.”
“You lost me anyway.”
“I know.”
She took a breath.
“Seven years ago, I made one terrible choice.”
“One?”
She looked at me.
“Yes.”
“What happened the night I was found?”
Emily’s expression changed.
“I need you to understand something.”
“What?”
“I didn’t hurt you.”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“Emily.”
“I swear.”
She looked at Grant.
“He was there.”
I turned.
“You were there?”
Grant nodded.
“I found you.”
“Where?”
“Near the warehouse.”
“Why were you there?”
“Because Emily called me.”
I looked at my sister.
“Why did you call him?”
“You had escaped.”
“Escaped from what?”
Emily’s face went white.
“The house.”
“What house?”
“The place where they were keeping the baby.”
My heart stopped.
“She was born there?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Vanessa had arranged everything.”
I felt sick.
“She was born in a house?”
“Under a false name.”
“Who delivered her?”
“A doctor.”
“Which doctor?”
Emily hesitated.
“Dr. Aaron Bell.”
The name struck something in my memory.
A hallway.
A man’s hands.
A wedding ring.
A voice saying, “Don’t let her see the baby.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“I know him.”
Grant stepped forward.
“You don’t.”
“I do.”
“No.”
“I remember.”
A sharp pain shot through my head.
I saw a white door.
A silver handle.
A baby crying.
My own voice screaming.
Then another voice.
“Take her.”
I gasped.
Paige held me.
“Are you okay?”
I nodded.
But I wasn’t.
“I remember the house.”
Emily stared at me.
“What do you remember?”
“A red door.”
Her face drained of color.
“What?”
“A red door.”
Emily looked at Grant.
He whispered, “That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because the house was destroyed.”
“Where?”
“Outside the city.”
“Where?”
Emily finally answered.
“Maple Ridge.”
I knew the name.
A place my family had visited when I was younger.
I remembered a large house.
A stone driveway.
A red front door.
And a swing hanging from an old oak tree.
I looked at the photograph.
The little girl had been sitting beneath an oak tree.
My hands started shaking.
“That’s the same house.”
Emily whispered, “No.”
“Look.”
I showed her the photograph.
Her eyes widened.
She stepped backward.
“Where did you get that?”
“My phone.”
“Who sent it?”
“An unknown number.”
Emily’s face changed.
“Then they know.”
“Who?”
“They know you remember.”
Before anyone could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
No one spoke.
Then a woman’s voice whispered:
“You’re closer than you think.”
I recognized it.
Vanessa.
My heart pounded.
“Where is my daughter?”
“You already know where to look.”
“Maple Ridge?”
Silence.
Then Vanessa laughed softly.
“Your sister told you too much.”
Emily looked terrified.
I asked, “Why did you kill Lucy?”
Vanessa’s voice changed.
“I didn’t.”
“Then who did?”
Another pause.
“Ask your husband.”
I looked at Grant.
His face went completely white.
Vanessa continued.
“He knows what was in that lunch.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice became colder.
“You know what was in the container.”
I froze.
“What does that mean?”
“You don’t know what was in the second container.”
I looked at Grant.
“What second container?”
Vanessa laughed.
Then the call ended.
I turned toward him.
“What’s in the second container?”
Grant said nothing.
“Grant.”
He looked at Emily.
Then Paige.
Finally, he looked at me.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What?”
“The lunch bag had two containers.”
My heart sank.
“You told me there was one.”
“I was wrong.”
“No.”
“I found the second one after Lucy died.”
“What was inside?”
He looked like he was about to be sick.
“A note.”
I stared at him.
“What note?”
He reached into his pocket.
My breath stopped.
He pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
“I kept it.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t know what it meant.”
I took it.
The handwriting was childish.
Uneven.
The words were only six lines.
Mommy,
I saw the lady again.
Daddy told me not to tell you.
She said she knew where my sister was.
She said I would see her soon.
Please don’t be mad at Daddy.
I couldn’t breathe.
Lucy had known.
She had seen Vanessa.
And she had known about the sister I never knew existed.
I looked at Grant.
“You knew about this.”
“I found it after she died.”
“You never showed me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
He looked at me.
“That Lucy knew more than we did.”
My phone buzzed again.
A new photograph appeared.
This time it wasn’t of the little girl.
It was of Lucy.
Taken three days before she died.
She was standing outside Little Pines.
Beside her was the woman in the beige coat.
And behind them, written across the image in black letters, were four words:
SHE REMEMBERED HER SISTER.
I stared at the photograph.
Then I noticed something in the background.
The red door.
The same red door from my memory.
My hands went numb.
Emily whispered, “That’s Maple Ridge.”
Grant stared at the image.
“No.”
“What?”
He stepped backward.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why?”
He looked at me.
“Because that house burned down four years ago.”
My phone buzzed one final time.
A message appeared.
It didn’t burn down.
Then another.
And your daughter is inside.
