Chapter 8: The Red Room
The passage beneath the Callaway estate was barely wide enough for two people.
Damp stone walls pressed against our shoulders. Dust covered the floor, and the air smelled of wet earth and rust.
Margaret led the way, holding a small flashlight.
Nathaniel walked behind her.
I followed, clutching the silver key Thomas had given me.
Marcus stayed near the entrance with two guards, waiting for emergency responders.
"How long have you known about this passage?"" I asked Margaret.
"Since the estate was built.""
"Did Richard show it to you?""
She nodded.
"He believed every powerful family needed a way to escape.""
I looked at her.
"Apparently, he knew his family would eventually need one.""
Margaret didn't answer.
After several minutes, we reached a metal door.
She pushed it open.
We emerged into an abandoned greenhouse.
Broken glass covered the floor. Dead vines climbed the iron framework, and an old fountain stood beneath a dusty skylight.
Nathaniel checked his phone.
"We have a signal.""
He immediately called the police.
While he explained the shooting, I approached Margaret.
"Tell me about Elizabeth.""
She looked at me.
"What do you want to know?""
"Everything.""
Margaret sat on an old wooden bench.
"Elizabeth was six when I adopted her. She was quiet, intelligent, and always asking questions. She loved drawing.""
"Was she happy?""
Margaret smiled sadly.
"She was. Until she discovered she wasn't my biological daughter.""
I swallowed.
"How did she find out?""
"She found an old letter from Richard. It contained her original birth certificate.""
"Did you tell her the truth?""
"I tried.""
"What did she say?""
Margaret looked down.
"She asked why I had lied.""
I waited.
"Then she asked whether I had ever loved her.""
My throat tightened.
"What did you say?""
"I told her she was the first person who made me feel like a mother again.""
Margaret wiped her eyes.
"But she couldn't forgive me.""
I looked toward the broken greenhouse windows.
"Did she ever talk about me?""
"All the time.""
My heart skipped.
"What?""
Margaret nodded.
"After you were born, Grace took you home. Elizabeth was already eighteen. She had discovered the hospital records and learned that Richard had hidden another child.""
"Me.""
"Yes. She wanted to find you.""
"Then why didn't she?""
"Because Victoria was watching her.""
I stared at Margaret.
"Victoria knew about me?""
"She knew there was another child. She didn't know where Grace had taken you.""
Nathaniel returned from the phone call.
"The police are on their way. Marcus says the security system should release the outer doors in twenty minutes.""
He looked at Margaret.
"Can you take us to St. Agnes?""
Margaret nodded.
"I know where Elizabeth was treated.""
I turned toward her.
"Then let's go.""
St. Agnes Hospital had been closed for nearly fifteen years.
The building stood behind an iron fence on the outskirts of Manhattan, surrounded by overgrown gardens and cracked pavement.
A faded sign hung above the entrance.
The windows were dark.
Nathaniel parked beside the gate.
"This place is condemned.""
Margaret climbed out.
"Elizabeth spent three weeks here after she escaped Victoria's men.""
"How do you know?""
"Because I visited her.""
I stared at her.
"You said you didn't know where she was.""
Margaret looked at me sadly.
"I knew where she had been. I didn't know where she went afterward.""
We entered through a side door.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and disinfectant.
Our footsteps echoed through the empty corridors.
Margaret led us to an old administrative office.
She pushed open the door.
A metal filing cabinet stood against the wall.
"Room seventeen," she whispered.
I searched the labels.
Patient records.
Discharge forms.
Insurance documents.
Then I found a red folder.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of a young woman.
Elizabeth.
She looked remarkably like me.
The same dark eyes.
The same shape of the mouth.
The same small scar above the left eyebrow.
I touched the photograph.
"That's my mother.""
Nathaniel stood beside me.
"She looks like you.""
I found a discharge form.
The name listed was Elizabeth Reed.
Age: thirty.
Emergency contact: Margaret Hayes.
But beneath the contact information was another name.
Rose Carter.
My name.
I looked at Margaret.
"She knew where I lived?""
Margaret nodded.
"Yes.""
My stomach tightened.
"How long?""
"She knew about you when you were twelve.""
I felt as if someone had struck me.
"She knew I was a child?""
"Yes.""
"And she never came?""
Margaret closed her eyes.
"She was afraid.""
I turned away.
"Everyone was afraid. What about me? Didn't anyone think about what it would feel like to grow up believing your mother was dead?""
Nathaniel placed a hand on my shoulder.
I pulled away.
I wasn't angry at him.
I was angry at every person who had decided my life was something they could manage from a distance.
I continued searching.
At the bottom of the red folder was a small envelope.
It contained a letter.
My darling Rose,
If you're reading this, then perhaps I've finally run out of excuses.
I have watched you from a distance. I know you became a nurse. I know you moved to Brooklyn. I know you love old movies and hate thunderstorms.
I know you visit Grace's grave every year.
And I know you believe she died because she couldn't save herself.
I am sorry.
I was eighteen when I discovered that Richard Callaway was my father. I was old enough to understand what he had done, but too young to understand how to fight him.
I found out about you after Grace had already taken you away.
I wanted to come for you.
But Victoria threatened to hurt you if I ever appeared.
I chose to stay away because I thought it was the only way to keep you alive.
I don't know whether you will ever forgive me.
But I need you to know that I have never stopped being your mother.
Elizabeth.
I couldn't stop crying.
Nathaniel quietly stepped away.
Margaret sat beside me.
"She loved you.""
I shook my head.
"Then why didn't she come?""
"Because sometimes fear makes people do terrible things.""
I looked at the letter again.
At the bottom was a handwritten address.
An apartment in Queens.
And a phone number.
I immediately pulled out my phone.
The number was still active.
I called.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then a woman answered.
"Hello?""
I couldn't speak.
"Hello?""
I swallowed.
"Is this Elizabeth?""
There was silence.
Then a sharp breath.
"Who is this?""
"My name is Rose.""
The woman began crying.
"Oh, God.""
I pressed the phone against my ear.
"Are you my mother?""
She whispered something.
Something I had waited seventeen years to hear.
"Yes, sweetheart.""
I closed my eyes.
"Where are you?""
"I'm at home.""
"Can I see you?""
Another pause.
"Rose, listen to me. You need to leave that hospital immediately.""
My stomach tightened.
"Why?""
"Because Victoria knows you're there.""
Nathaniel turned toward me.
"What?""
The woman on the phone began speaking faster.
"She has people watching the building. She knows you found the records.""
I looked toward the corridor.
A faint metallic sound came from the entrance.
Someone was opening the front door.
"Mom?""
"Listen carefully. Go to the basement. There's a second exit behind the laundry room.""
I stood.
"How do you know that?""
"Because I used it when I escaped.""
Footsteps echoed through the corridor.
Nathaniel moved toward the door.
"Rose, we need to go.""
Then my mother's voice became urgent.
"One more thing.""
"What?""
"Margaret isn't telling you everything.""
I looked at the older woman.
"What do you mean?""
My mother whispered:
"She didn't raise you because she wanted to protect you.""
I felt my blood turn cold.
"Then why?""
"Because she was paid to keep you hidden.""
I turned toward Margaret.
She had gone completely still.
My mother continued.
"And Rose, there's another reason Victoria wants you dead.""
"What?""
"You're not just Richard Callaway's daughter.""
I heard a door slam somewhere nearby.
My mother whispered:
"You're the legal owner of the company.""
The call disconnected.
Nathaniel stared at me.
"What did she say?""
Before I could answer, a man's voice came through the hallway.
"Nobody move!""
Three men in dark clothing appeared at the end of the corridor.
The first raised a pistol.
The second pointed toward Nathaniel.
And the third looked directly at Margaret.
"Mrs. Hayes," he said.
"Your employer would like a word.""
Margaret's face crumpled.
I stepped backward.
"Who hired you?""
The man smiled.
"Your mother.""
Then he added:
"Elizabeth has been expecting you.""
We were taken through the basement.
The men didn't hurt us, but they refused to answer questions.
Nathaniel kept demanding to know where they were taking us.
Eventually, the vehicle stopped outside a small apartment building in Queens.
The driver opened the door.
"You're here.""
I looked at the building.
It was old, narrow, and ordinary.
A few children were playing near the entrance.
A woman watered flowers on a balcony.
Nothing about it suggested a place where the daughter of a billionaire was hiding.
I stepped out.
Margaret followed.
Nathaniel stayed close.
We climbed three flights of stairs.
At the end of the hallway was apartment 3B.
The door opened before we knocked.
A woman stood there.
She was in her late forties, with dark hair streaked with gray and a faint scar above her left eyebrow.
My scar.
My eyes.
My face.
She looked at me as though she were seeing a ghost.
"Rose?""
I couldn't speak.
She reached toward me.
I stepped forward.
And when she wrapped her arms around me, I recognized the smell of her perfume.
The same lavender scent that had lingered on Grace's old sweaters.
I began sobbing.
"Mom.""
Elizabeth held me tightly.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.""
Nathaniel stood behind us.
He looked at the woman who was both his half-sister and the missing daughter of Richard Callaway.
Then he noticed something on the wall.
A photograph.
Richard Callaway.
Elizabeth.
And a little girl.
Nathaniel walked closer.
"Who is that child?""
Elizabeth slowly released me.
She followed his gaze.
Then she looked at Margaret.
Her expression hardened.
"That's the reason we can't trust her.""
Margaret began shaking her head.
"Elizabeth, please.""
My mother turned toward me.
"Rose, there's something else you need to know.""
She pointed at the photograph.
"The girl in that picture is the fourth child.""
I stared.
"Who is she?""
Elizabeth's eyes filled.
"Your sister.""
May you like
Then she whispered:
"And she's the one who inherited everything.""
