Chapter 14 — THE ROOM BENEATH THE LIBRARY
I stared at the floor.
“Under our house?”
Emma nodded.
“Lily is there.”
Rachel looked terrified.
“That's impossible.”
Emma shook her head.
“She told me.”
“Where did you talk to her?”
“In the room.”
“What room?”
“The room under the stairs.”
I looked toward the basement door.
Our house had a basement.
I'd been down there hundreds of times.
Storage.
Old furniture.
Boxes.
Nothing else.
But Emma had never been down there alone.
At least, I thought she hadn't.
I carried her downstairs.
Rachel followed.
Mercer stayed behind us.
The basement smelled of damp wood and dust.
I turned on the lights.
“Where?”
Emma pointed toward the far wall.
I walked over.
Nothing.
Just shelves.
Boxes.
A broken water heater.
Then Emma pointed lower.
“There.”
I moved the boxes.
Behind them was a section of wall that looked newer than the rest.
I tapped it.
Hollow.
Rachel whispered,
“No.”
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
“I knew there was something here.”
“What?”
“I never opened it.”
I found a crowbar.
I pulled at the panel.
It came loose.
Behind it was a narrow staircase.
Mercer immediately stopped me.
“Don't go down.”
“Why?”
“Because this wasn't built for storage.”
I looked at the stairs.
They disappeared into darkness.
Emma whispered,
“Lily is waiting.”
I grabbed a flashlight.
Then I went down.
The air became colder with every step.
At the bottom was a concrete corridor.
There were old electrical wires along the ceiling.
And doors.
Six of them.
The first door was locked.
The second opened.
Inside was an empty room.
The third contained a small metal bed.
The fourth had children's drawings taped to the wall.
I walked closer.
Crayon drawings.
Houses.
Families.
A little girl.
A little boy.
Then one drawing made me stop.
Two girls stood beneath a tree.
One was labeled:
EMMA
The other:
LILY
At the bottom, someone had written:
WE WILL GO HOME TOGETHER.
Rachel began crying.
“This was here four years ago.”
I turned.
“What?”
“I found this room.”
“When?”
“After Sarah died.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I was scared.”
“Of what?”
She pointed to the drawings.
“Those children.”
“What children?”
Rachel didn't answer.
Then a small sound came from behind us.
A cough.
We froze.
I turned toward the last door.
There was someone inside.
“Hello?”
No answer.
I opened it.
The room was empty.
But there was a bed.
A blanket.
And fresh food.
Someone had been living there.
Emma pulled my hand.
“She's here.”
“Where?”
She pointed to the wall.
I looked.
Nothing.
Then I heard breathing.
Behind the wall.
I pressed my ear against it.
Someone was crying.
“Lily?”
Silence.
Then a small voice answered.
“Michael?”
My heart stopped.
The voice sounded like a child.
But she knew my name.
I looked at Rachel.
She covered her mouth.
“Lily?”
A tiny hand appeared through a crack in the wall.
Emma stepped forward.
“Lily?”
The hand disappeared.
Then the wall moved.
A hidden door opened.
A girl stepped out.
She was about eight years old.
Thin.
Pale.
Her dark hair fell around her face.
And beneath her left ear was the same birthmark I had seen in the photographs.
She stared at Emma.
Emma stared back.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then Lily whispered:
“You came back.”
Emma ran to her.
The two girls hugged.
I couldn't speak.
Lily looked at me.
“You're Michael.”
I nodded.
“How do you know me?”
“Mom told me.”
“Your mother?”
“Evelyn.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is she?”
Lily looked toward the ceiling.
“She comes sometimes.”
Rachel whispered,
“She's alive.”
Lily nodded.
“But she can't stay long.”
“Why?”
“Because he watches.”
“Daniel?”
Lily shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked at me.
“Your mother.”
I froze.
“Sarah?”
Lily nodded.
“She isn't dead.”
The room seemed to disappear.
“Where is Sarah?”
Lily whispered:
“She is the one who put me here.”
I couldn't breathe.
“My wife?”
“She said she was protecting us.”
“Protecting you from whom?”
“Daniel.”
“Then why hide you?”
“Because Daniel wanted to find us.”
I looked at Emma.
“Why did Sarah let him think Emma was dead?”
Lily's eyes filled with tears.
“Because Emma was the only one he couldn't find.”
“Why?”
“Because she had another name.”
“What name?”
Lily looked at Emma.
Then she said:
“Anna.”
I froze.
“Anna?”
Lily nodded.
“Emma's real name is Anna Cross.”
Rachel stepped backward.
“No.”
I turned to her.
“What?”
“She can't be.”
Lily stared at Rachel.
“You knew.”
Rachel shook her head.
“I didn't.”
“You did.”
“I was a child.”
“You helped them.”
Rachel began crying.
“I was nine.”
“You helped them take my sister.”
I looked between them.
“Your sister?”
Lily pointed at Emma.
“She's my sister.”
My heart shattered.
Emma and Lily weren't merely connected.
They were biological sisters.
Twins.
The babies had been switched.
But the truth was even more complicated.
I looked at Lily.
“Then who was the baby I brought home?”
Lily stared at me.
“Another girl.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Sarah's real daughter.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Then where is she?”
Lily's face went pale.
“Dead.”
Silence.
“Who killed her?”
Lily looked toward the ceiling.
“Daniel.”
I closed my eyes.
The story was becoming unbearable.
But then Lily said something that changed everything.
“Daniel didn't kill her because of the money.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew what happened to your father.”
My eyes opened.
“What happened to my father?”
Lily stepped closer.
“He didn't die in a car accident.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You don't.”
“He was killed.”
“Yes.”
“By Daniel?”
“No.”
I stared at her.
“Then who?”
Lily whispered:
“Sarah.”
I couldn't move.
“My wife killed my father?”
Lily nodded.
“She didn't mean to.”
“What does that mean?”
“She was trying to save you.”
Before I could ask another question, every light in the corridor went out.
Darkness swallowed us.
Then a man's voice echoed from somewhere behind the wall.
“That's enough.”
Lily grabbed Emma's hand.
“Run!”
I pulled both girls toward the stairs.
Rachel screamed.
“Michael!”
I turned.
A figure stood at the end of the corridor.
Tall.
Still.
Watching us.
The flashlight flickered.
For one second, I saw his face.
Scar across his cheek.
Gray hair.
Cold eyes.
Daniel Cross.
He smiled.
May you like
Then he said:
“Hello, son.”
