PART 4 — THE NIGHT MATTHEW DISAPPEARED
Matthew backed toward the wall.
“I can explain.”
Those three words did more damage than a confession.
My father moved in front of me immediately.
“Then start explaining.”
Matthew looked at me.
Not my father.
Not his mother.
Me.
“Valerie, I swear I didn’t hurt Patricia.”
I felt my stomach turn.
“I didn’t ask if you hurt her.”
He went silent.
“I asked where you were last night at 7:14.”
Rebecca Rivas whispered sharply:
“Matthew, don’t.”
He looked at her.
And something passed between them.
Something practiced.
Something familiar.
My father saw it too.
“You two have already discussed this.”
“No,” Rebecca said.
Matthew answered at exactly the same time.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Rebecca closed her eyes.
Matthew swallowed.
“I was with my grandfather.”
My mother gasped.
Sofia’s face hardened.
David was still on speakerphone.
For several seconds, nobody said anything.
Then David’s voice came through.
“You met Victor?”
Matthew nodded before realizing David could not see him.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“At Bellflower Road.”
I stared at him.
The same address where Aunt Patricia was being held.
“You were there?”
“Last night.”
“What were you doing there?”
Matthew rubbed both hands over his face.
“My mom told me my grandfather wanted to talk to me.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“That isn’t what happened.”
Matthew spun toward her.
“You gave me the address.”
“Because your grandfather demanded that I.”
“You told me he was sick.”
“He is.”
“He looked perfectly healthy while threatening me.”
My father stepped closer.
“What did he threaten you about?”
Matthew hesitated.
I laughed bitterly.
“Go ahead.”
“Valerie—”
“No. This seems to be what everyone does now. You hide something until somebody else exposes it.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I when you told everyone you had never touched me.”
His face collapsed.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do now.”
I stepped toward him.
“Then tell me what happened.”
Matthew looked down.
“Grandfather knew about the pregnancy.”
“I already know that.”
“He knew before my mom did.”
Rebecca’s head snapped up.
“What?”
Matthew looked at her.
“He showed me a picture of Valerie’s pregnancy test.”
My blood froze.
“What picture?”
“The test in your math notebook.”
I could not breathe.
“That test never left my backpack.”
“I know.”
“Then how did he have a picture?”
Matthew looked toward the phone on the desk.
“That’s why he called me to Bellflower.”
My father’s face darkened.
“Someone had been inside our house.”
Matthew nodded.
“He said he had people watching Valerie.”
Mom covered her mouth.
I remembered everything suddenly.
The window in my room that I sometimes forgot to lock.
The strange car parked across the street three days earlier.
Aunt Patricia checking the back door twice before bed.
David showing up unexpectedly.
The tea.
The warnings.
I whispered:
“How long?”
Matthew looked sick.
“I don’t know.”
“What did Victor want from you?”
“He told me to deny the baby.”
The words hit differently now.
My father lunged forward.
“You lying little—”
“Dad!”
He stopped inches from Matthew.
Matthew did not move.
“He told me if I admitted the baby was mine, Valerie would get hurt.”
My anger faltered.
“What?”
“He showed me photographs.”
“What photographs?”
“You walking to school.”
My mother grabbed my arm.
“You at the grocery store.”
He looked at Dad.
“Her father leaving work.”
Then at Mom.
“Her mother at church.”
He looked back at me.
“And Patricia standing outside your house.”
My skin crawled.
“He said he could reach anyone.”
Sofia whispered:
“That sounds like Victor.”
I stared at Matthew.
“So you denied me to protect me?”
He nodded weakly.
“That was part of it.”
“Part?”
He looked away.
I almost laughed.
“There it is again.”
“Valerie.”
“What was the other part?”
“My grandfather said if I cooperated, he would make the pregnancy disappear quietly.”
My father’s fist clenched.
“And you agreed?”
“No!”
Matthew’s voice cracked.
“I thought he meant money. Lawyers. My mom making some agreement with your parents.”
Rebecca whispered:
“That’s what I thought too.”
Sofia turned on her.
“You offered them five thousand dollars.”
Rebecca’s face tightened.
“My father told me to.”
“And you obeyed?”
“You keep asking that like refusing Victor is easy.”
My mother stared at her.
“Patricia refused.”
Rebecca looked at Mom.
“And look where Patricia is now.”
Nobody had an answer to that.
The countdown on my phone showed seven minutes.
David’s voice returned.
“You’re wasting time.”
Dad picked up the phone.
“What can you see?”
“I’m across from Bellflower Road.”
“What kind of house?”
“Abandoned-looking. Two floors. White siding. Windows covered.”
“Vehicles?”
“A black SUV behind the house.”
Sofia asked:
“Victor’s?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any guards?”
“I saw one man through a downstairs window.”
“Can you see Patricia?”
“No.”
My father said:
“Police need that address.”
The principal nodded.
“They’re outside.”
Matthew suddenly said:
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Dad stared at him.
“What?”
“You can’t send them yet.”
My father’s voice became dangerous.
“Choose your next words carefully.”
“Grandfather showed me the house.”
“Why?”
“He wanted me to understand how serious he was.”
“About what?”
Matthew’s hands began trembling.
“There’s a tunnel.”
Sofia frowned.
“What?”
“Under Bellflower.”
David went silent.
Matthew continued.
“The house used to belong to one of my grandfather’s companies. There’s an old storm tunnel connecting the basement to a warehouse two blocks away.”
My father looked at the principal.
“If police surround the house—”
“He escapes,” Sofia finished.
Matthew nodded.
“Or takes Patricia with him.”
David whispered:
“I’m going in.”
“No!” my mother shouted.
“David, don’t you dare.”
“That woman raised me.”
“And I just found you!”
My mother’s voice shattered.
“I spent eighteen years believing you were dead. I am not losing you ten minutes after finding out you’re alive.”
David was silent.
Mom started crying.
“Please.”
His voice softened.
“I’m sorry.”
Then the line disconnected.
“David!”
Mom called back.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
My father cursed.
Sofia grabbed her coat.
“I’m going there.”
Dad stopped her.
“No.”
“That is my sister’s child.”
“And my wife’s son.”
“We’re wasting time.”
The countdown showed five minutes.
I looked at Matthew.
“You know the tunnel?”
“Yes.”
“Where does it come out?”
“An old warehouse on Larkin Street.”
The principal immediately relayed the information to the officers outside.
My father looked at Sofia.
“We tell them to approach the warehouse quietly.”
Sofia nodded.
“And Bellflower?”
“Plainclothes officers only.”
Rebecca suddenly laughed.
Every head turned.
It was not amusement.
It was despair.
“You still don’t understand.”
Matthew stared at her.
“What?”
Rebecca looked at the countdown.
“My father knows police are here.”
“How?”
“He always knows.”
Sofia crossed the room.
“How?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“He has people everywhere.”
“Names.”
“I don’t know all of them.”
“Then give us the ones you do know.”
Rebecca looked toward the principal.
“A deputy.”
My father went still.
“What deputy?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“Sheriff’s department.”
My father’s jaw tightened.
“Name.”
“Charles Mercer.”
Sofia cursed.
“You’re sure?”
Rebecca nodded.
“He has worked for my father for years.”
The principal immediately called the officers again.
I watched the countdown.
Three minutes.
Then my phone vibrated.
The timer disappeared.
A new message appeared.
DAVID SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO HIS MOTHER.
My mother screamed.
A photograph followed.
David.
Lying face down inside the Bellflower house.
Blood on the side of his head.
“No!”
Mom tried to grab the phone.
Dad held her.
Another message:
NOW I HAVE BOTH OF THEM.
I started shaking.
“Victor knows David went inside.”
Matthew stared at the image.
“Look at the floor.”
“What?”
He grabbed the phone and zoomed in.
Beside David’s hand was a small metal grate.
Matthew’s eyes widened.
“That’s not the house.”
Sofia leaned closer.
“What?”
“That floor is concrete.”
“And?”
“The Bellflower house has a wood basement floor over the old foundation.”
Dad understood first.
“He’s in the warehouse.”
Matthew nodded.
“Victor moved them already.”
The principal was on the phone instantly.
“Redirect everyone to Larkin Street.”
Rebecca rushed toward her.
“No!”
The security officer blocked her.
Rebecca looked frantic.
“You cannot send police there.”
Sofia snapped:
“Why?”
“Because the warehouse is wired.”
Nobody moved.
Matthew stared at his mother.
“Wired how?”
Rebecca began crying.
“Explosives.”
My mother stopped breathing.
“What?”
“My father used that warehouse years ago for demolition storage.”
Dad stared at her.
“Does he still?”
“I don’t know.”
Sofia grabbed Rebecca’s arms.
“You knew this and said nothing?”
“I didn’t know he would take them there!”
“Can Victor detonate it remotely?”
Rebecca nodded.
“I think so.”
My mother made a broken sound.
“David.”
The principal told the police to hold position.
We were trapped.
Victor knew exactly what he was doing.
Every answer created another danger.
My phone vibrated.
A video call.
Unknown number.
Everyone stared.
Dad whispered:
“Don’t.”
I answered.
Victor Rivas appeared.
He was sitting in a chair beneath a hanging industrial lamp.
Behind him stood Aunt Patricia.
No longer tied to the chair.
Instead, her hands were bound in front of her.
David was on the floor nearby, moving slightly.
Alive.
My mother sobbed.
Victor smiled.
“Valerie.”
“You’re a coward.”
My father grabbed my shoulder.
Victor’s smile widened.
“Interesting. Fifteen years old and already braver than most adults in that room.”
“Let them go.”
“Eventually.”
“What do you want?”
“You already know.”
“The journal?”
“Partly.”
Sofia leaned toward the phone.
“Elena’s journal belongs to her family.”
Victor’s face changed.
“Sofia.”
Her eyes filled with hatred.
“You remember me.”
“I remember your sister better.”
Sofia went rigid.
“Where is Elena?”
Victor smiled.
“Still asking the wrong question.”
“What did you do to her?”
“The same thing families like mine have always done when inconvenient people threaten everything we built.”
My father stepped into view.
“You hurt that woman, and there won’t be a hole deep enough for you.”
Victor chuckled.
“Carlos Herrera.”
Dad froze.
Victor continued.
“Hard worker. Warehouse supervisor. Forty-three years old. Drives a twelve-year-old Ford. Pays the mortgage on the fifth of every month.”
My father’s face went cold.
Victor looked directly into the camera.
“I know exactly who lives in Valerie’s house.”
My mother clutched Dad’s arm.
Then Victor said:
“Which is more than Carlos can say.”
Nobody understood.
My father frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Victor smiled.
“Ask Maria.”
Mom went white.
“Don’t.”
Dad turned toward her.
“Maria?”
Victor laughed.
“Still keeping secrets?”
I felt anger rise.
“Stop playing games.”
Victor’s eyes moved to me.
“Fine.”
He leaned closer to the camera.
“You want Patricia and David alive?”
“Yes.”
“Bring Rebecca.”
Everyone turned toward Mrs. Rivas.
She staggered backward.
“No.”
Victor smiled.
“Hello, daughter.”
Rebecca began trembling.
“Dad.”
“You’ve disappointed me.”
“Please.”
“You allowed strangers to dig into family matters.”
“They were going to find out.”
“Because you were weak.”
Matthew stepped in front of his mother.
“You’re not taking her.”
Victor stared at him.
For the first time, the old man’s expression softened.
“Matthew.”
“Stay away from her.”
“Still emotional.”
“You lied to me my whole life.”
Victor smiled slightly.
“Did I?”
Matthew clenched his fists.
“Who are my biological parents?”
Rebecca whispered:
“Matthew, not now.”
“No.”
He looked into the phone.
“You know.”
“Of course I know.”
The entire room froze.
Matthew whispered:
“Tell me.”
Victor shook his head.
“Bring Rebecca.”
“Tell me who I am.”
“Bring her, and perhaps I will.”
Matthew looked at me.
I knew what he was thinking.
The same thing everyone had been thinking all morning.
Another secret.
Another trade.
Another trap.
Rebecca began crying.
“Don’t listen to him.”
Victor tilted his head.
“Rebecca, do you remember November seventeenth?”
She stopped.
Her whole body went rigid.
Matthew noticed.
“What happened November seventeenth?”
Victor smiled.
“The day Matthew became Matthew.”
Matthew looked sick.
“What does that mean?”
Victor glanced offscreen.
Someone entered the frame.
Only a shoulder at first.
Then a face.
Sofia screamed.
The phone nearly fell from my hands.
The woman looked older.
Thin.
Gray beginning in her dark curls.
But there was no mistaking the face from the photographs.
Elena Delgado.
Alive.
Sofia sobbed.
“Elena?”
The woman looked into the camera.
“Sofia?”
Sofia covered her mouth.
“Oh my God.”
Elena stepped closer.
Her hands were not tied.
She was not injured.
She stood beside Victor willingly.
That was somehow worse.
Sofia’s expression changed from relief to confusion.
“Elena, get away from him.”
Elena looked down.
Victor smiled.
“You see? Everyone believes a story becomes true simply because enough years have passed.”
Sofia whispered:
“Why are you with him?”
Elena’s eyes filled with tears.
“It’s complicated.”
“You disappeared.”
“I know.”
“We thought you were dead!”
“I know.”
“I spent eighteen years looking for you!”
Elena began crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Sofia shook her head.
“No. No, you don’t get to say sorry. Tell me where your baby went.”
Elena looked toward Matthew.
Her face changed.
She took one step toward the screen.
“Oh.”
Matthew stopped breathing.
Elena whispered:
“You look like him.”
Matthew touched his face.
“Like who?”
“Jonathan.”
Rebecca shut her eyes.
Matthew stared at Elena.
“Am I your son?”
Elena’s mouth trembled.
“No.”
Relief passed through me.
But Elena continued.
“My son had Jonathan’s eyes.”
She looked at Victor.
Victor’s smile disappeared.
Sofia demanded:
“Then where is he?”
Elena whispered:
“I don’t know.”
Victor turned toward her.
“That’s enough.”
“No,” Elena said.
His eyes hardened.
“You promised.”
“I’ve spent eighteen years keeping your promises.”
Victor grabbed her wrist.
Sofia screamed:
“Don’t touch her!”
Elena pulled free.
And then she did something none of us expected.
She looked directly into the camera and shouted:
“MATTHEW, YOUR FATHER IS DAVID!”
Everything stopped.
My mother’s mouth fell open.
I looked at David lying on the floor.
Matthew staggered backward.
“What?”
Victor slapped Elena.
The phone jerked.
Sofia screamed.
Matthew shouted:
“WHAT DID SHE SAY?”
The video cut out.
The room exploded.
Rebecca dropped into a chair.
Matthew grabbed his hair.
“David is twenty-seven.”
My father looked stunned.
“You’re seventeen.”
“He would’ve been ten.”
Mom shook her head.
“That’s impossible.”
Sofia was breathing fast.
“Elena was trying to tell us something else.”
Matthew spun around.
“She said my father is David.”
“She may not mean David Rojas.”
“How many Davids are involved in this nightmare?”
Nobody answered.
Then my mother whispered:
“One.”
We all looked at her.
She stared at the phone.
“Jonathan’s middle name.”
Sofia frowned.
“What?”
Mom looked at her.
“Jonathan Rivas’s full name was Jonathan David Rivas.”
Matthew froze.
Elena had said:
Your father is David.
Maybe she had not meant my cousin.
Maybe she meant Jonathan.
Matthew whispered:
“Jonathan is my father?”
Rebecca began sobbing.
“Mom?”
She covered her face.
Matthew stepped closer.
“Tell me.”
Rebecca whispered:
“I never knew for certain.”
“What does that mean?”
“My brother…”
She could barely speak.
“Jonathan was not the person everyone thought.”
Elena shouted from the phone before it disconnected that Matthew looked like him.
My heart began pounding.
“If Jonathan is Matthew’s biological father… who is his mother?”
Rebecca looked toward me.
Then toward my mother.
Then Sofia.
Finally she whispered:
“Not Elena.”
Matthew’s face hardened.
“Who?”
Rebecca did not answer.
Matthew shouted:
“WHO?”
She looked at my mother.
Maria stopped breathing.
“No.”
Rebecca began crying.
“No, Rebecca.”
My mother stepped backward.
“Don’t.”
Matthew looked between them.
“What?”
My father’s face changed.
“Maria?”
Mom shook her head frantically.
“My son was born October twenty-sixth.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Yes.”
“He was taken.”
“Yes.”
“You said Matthew wasn’t him.”
“He isn’t.”
“Then why are you looking at me?”
Rebecca whispered:
“Because Maria wasn’t the only Rojas girl Jonathan was sleeping with.”
My blood turned cold.
Sofia slowly turned toward the video image of Patricia.
Mom whispered:
“No.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Patricia.”
Everyone stared.
My aunt.
David’s adoptive mother.
The woman Victor had kidnapped.
Matthew’s voice disappeared.
“You’re saying Patricia is my mother?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I’m saying she could be.”
Matthew looked as though someone had punched him.
“But Patricia would’ve been—”
“Seventeen.”
Sofia closed her eyes.
“My God.”
My mother shook her head.
“She would have told me.”
Rebecca laughed bitterly.
“Would you have told her?”
That shut Mom up.
My father whispered:
“Were both sisters pregnant by Jonathan?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Yes.”
“Did Elena know?”
“I believe so.”
Everything in the journal suddenly changed.
One Rojas girl was already a problem, and now there are two.
I had thought the second girl was Elena.
What if it meant Maria and Patricia?
I grabbed the journal.
“October nineteenth.”
Sofia looked at me.
“What?”
I found the entry.
Jonathan says his father knows about Maria now. He says his father is furious because one Rojas girl was already a problem, and now there are two.
I stared at my mother.
“One Rojas girl was already pregnant.”
Mom whispered:
“Patricia.”
Rebecca nodded.
My father looked sick.
“So Maria got pregnant second.”
“Yes.”
“And Elena?”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“Elena was third.”
Sofia stared at her.
“Three girls?”
Rebecca whispered:
“Jonathan was reckless.”
Sofia slapped her.
Hard.
The security officer stepped forward.
Sofia raised her hands.
“I’m done.”
Rebecca touched her cheek.
“You think I’m defending him?”
“You called him reckless like he broke a window.”
Rebecca stared at the floor.
“He destroyed lives.”
Matthew spoke quietly.
“Including mine.”
Rebecca looked at him.
“Yes.”
Matthew swallowed.
“If Patricia is my mother…”
He looked toward David’s image.
“Then David isn’t her biological son.”
My mother whispered:
“He’s mine.”
Matthew’s eyes lifted to me.
That meant something else.
If Matthew was Patricia’s biological son, then he and I were first cousins.
I pressed a hand against my stomach.
The room became quiet again.
It was not as horrifying as believing he was my brother.
But it was still something neither of us had known.
Matthew turned away.
“I need a DNA test.”
My father nodded.
“We all do.”
My phone vibrated.
Another message from Victor.
Enough family history. Rebecca has fifteen minutes to arrive at Bellflower alone.
Then:
No police. No Matthew.
A final line:
Or I tell Patricia what really happened to her first baby before I kill her.
Matthew froze.
“First baby?”
My mother whispered:
“Oh God.”
Rebecca looked even more terrified.
Sofia grabbed her.
“What first baby?”
Rebecca said nothing.
“Matthew?”
Sofia’s eyes widened.
“Is Matthew Patricia’s first baby?”
Rebecca shook her head slowly.
“No.”
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“Then Patricia had another child?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Before Matthew?”
“Yes.”
“By Jonathan?”
“No.”
Mom looked completely lost.
“Patricia never told me.”
Rebecca’s voice was barely audible.
“She didn’t know the baby survived.”
My father slammed his hand against the desk.
“Another stolen baby?”
Rebecca nodded.
I almost laughed from disbelief.
“How many babies did Victor steal?”
She began crying.
“More than you think.”
Nobody moved.
Sofia whispered:
“What was Victor doing?”
Rebecca stared at us.
And finally, the truth began coming out.
“My father operated a private adoption network.”
The principal sat down.
“What?”
“Not legal adoptions.”
My father’s face hardened.
“He sold babies.”
Rebecca nodded.
“He worked with a doctor at St. Matthew’s. Girls who were young, poor, undocumented, unmarried… girls nobody thought would fight back.”
Sofia looked ready to kill her.
“They took their children.”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Sometimes they convinced the mothers the babies had died. Sometimes they forged consent.”
My mother started crying again.
“My son.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“Your son was supposed to be sold.”
Mom covered her face.
“But Patricia stopped it.”
Everyone froze.
I looked at the photo of my aunt tied inside the warehouse.
“What?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Patricia discovered what my father was doing.”
“When?”
“The night Maria gave birth.”
Mom stared at her.
“Patricia was with Elena.”
“Until she learned you were in labor.”
My mother’s breath caught.
Rebecca continued.
“She went to St. Matthew’s.”
Sofia whispered:
“That’s why her initials were on Elena’s bracelet?”
“No.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Patricia had already been inside that hospital several times.”
“Why?”
“Because Patricia had lost a baby there the year before.”
My mother whispered:
“She told me she had appendicitis.”
“She lied.”
Rebecca looked at Matthew.
“Patricia was fourteen when she became pregnant.”
I felt sick.
“Who was the father?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I never knew.”
“Victor did?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“He sold him.”
Matthew whispered:
“A boy?”
Rebecca nodded.
Patricia had spent years secretly investigating stolen babies because she had been one of Victor’s victims long before Elena or Mom.
Everything she had done suddenly made sense.
Her anger.
Her secrecy.
Her obsession.
Why she had looked at my pregnancy like history repeating itself.
Sofia asked:
“Where is Patricia’s first son?”
Rebecca whispered:
“I don’t know.”
My phone vibrated.
A photograph appeared.
It was a baby picture.
A newborn wrapped in a green blanket.
On the back, someone had written:
PATRICIA ROJAS — MALE — NOVEMBER 3
Below the photograph Victor had written:
HE NEVER LEFT TOWN.
My mother stared at the image.
“Never left town?”
My father whispered:
“Who?”
Another photograph arrived.
A boy at age six.
Then another.
Age twelve.
Another.
High school graduation.
My heart started pounding harder with every picture.
There was something familiar about him.
The eyes.
The nose.
The way he smiled.
Sofia whispered:
“I know him.”
My father leaned closer.
“So do I.”
The final photograph loaded.
A recent image.
A man in uniform.
Sheriff’s department.
Deputy Charles Mercer.
The same deputy Rebecca had just identified as Victor’s corrupt officer.
Nobody spoke.
Patricia’s first stolen son had grown up to become Victor’s employee.
And he did not even know the woman Victor was holding hostage was his biological mother.
My mother whispered:
“Charles.”
Rebecca nodded.
“My father kept him close.”
“Why?”
“Insurance.”
“Against Patricia?”
“Yes.”
My father stared at the image.
“So Mercer has been protecting Victor without knowing Victor stole him from his own mother.”
Rebecca nodded.
Sofia’s expression changed.
“That’s why Victor wants Rebecca.”
“What?”
“He thinks Rebecca is the only person who can expose the adoption network.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
Sofia looked at her.
“You have records.”
Rebecca said nothing.
“You do.”
Matthew stared at his mother.
“Where?”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“My house.”
My father stepped closer.
“Where in your house?”
“There’s a safe behind the library wall.”
“What’s inside?”
“Names.”
“How many?”
Rebecca whispered:
“One hundred and seventeen.”
The principal stared at her.
“One hundred and seventeen babies?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Families. Payments. Hospital records. New identities.”
Sofia whispered:
“That journal isn’t what Victor really wants.”
“No.”
Rebecca looked at us.
“He wants the ledger.”
My mother said:
“Then why demand the journal?”
“To make sure Patricia never proves where everything started.”
I stared at the old book.
Elena’s journal was evidence.
But Rebecca’s ledger could destroy Victor.
My father looked at her.
“Can we get it?”
“Yes.”
“Without Victor knowing?”
Rebecca hesitated.
“No.”
“Why?”
“He has cameras in my house.”
Matthew laughed bitterly.
“Of course he does.”
Then he looked at me.
“I know another way.”
Rebecca’s head snapped up.
“No.”
“What?”
Matthew ignored her.
“There’s a service passage behind the library.”
“How do you know?”
“I used it when I was a kid.”
Rebecca grabbed his arm.
“You cannot go back there.”
He pulled free.
“If that ledger can save Patricia and David, I’m getting it.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain.”
Rebecca looked terrified.
“The safe doesn’t just contain adoption records.”
“What else?”
She stared at her son.
“DNA results.”
Matthew stopped breathing.
“What DNA results?”
“Yours.”
Nobody moved.
Matthew whispered:
“You already tested me?”
Rebecca nodded.
“When?”
“When you were five.”
“You know who my biological mother is.”
Rebecca started crying.
Matthew’s entire body went rigid.
“You stood here for an hour saying you didn’t know.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
He laughed once.
A broken sound.
“There’s that word again.”
“Matthew—”
“Who is she?”
Rebecca looked at Patricia’s image.
And said nothing.
Matthew’s eyes filled with tears.
“It’s Patricia.”
Rebecca slowly shook her head.
“No.”
“Then who?”
She looked at Elena.
Sofia stopped breathing.
Matthew followed her gaze.
“No.”
Rebecca whispered:
“Elena.”
Sofia grabbed the desk.
Matthew stared at the frozen image of the woman we had just seen alive.
“But she said I wasn’t her son.”
“She lied.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor was standing beside her.”
Matthew’s knees nearly buckled.
Rebecca reached for him.
He stepped away.
“My mother is alive.”
“Yes.”
“And my father was Jonathan.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did Victor replace the baby you originally brought home with me?”
Rebecca’s face crumpled.
“Because Elena tried to escape with you.”
Sofia gasped.
Rebecca continued.
“Three weeks after your birth, Elena found where you were being kept.”
Matthew whispered:
“Where?”
“At my parents’ house.”
“She came for me?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Jonathan helped her.”
Sofia covered her mouth.
“That’s why he died.”
Rebecca nodded.
“My father caught them.”
Elena escaped.
Jonathan did not.
Matthew stared at Rebecca.
“Your father killed your brother?”
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
Rebecca sobbed.
“He made it look like a boating accident.”
Sofia whispered:
“And Elena?”
“She disappeared because Victor told her he would kill Matthew if she ever came back.”
Matthew closed his eyes.
“My whole life…”
Rebecca reached toward him again.
“I loved you.”
He opened his eyes.
“You loved the child your father stole.”
“I was a child too when it started.”
“You had seventeen years to tell me.”
“I was afraid.”
Matthew looked toward the video.
“So was she.”
My phone vibrated.
Ten minutes remaining.
Rebecca wiped her eyes.
“I’ll go.”
Matthew turned.
“No.”
“I’ll go to Bellflower.”
“Grandfather will kill you.”
“He wants the ledger.”
“We don’t have it.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
My father shook his head.
“You walk in empty-handed and everyone dies.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Then we give him something he thinks is the ledger.”
Sofia understood.
“A fake.”
Rebecca nodded.
“The adoption records are written in identical black binders.”
The principal said:
“Police can prepare one.”
“No.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Victor will open it.”
My father looked at Matthew.
“How far is your house?”
“Eight minutes.”
“Too far.”
Matthew shook his head.
“Not if someone is already there.”
Everyone looked at him.
He took out his phone.
“Who?” I asked.
He hesitated.
“My sister.”
Rebecca went pale.
“You called Olivia?”
Matthew nodded.
“When?”
“Before the school meeting.”
Rebecca looked terrified.
“She can’t know about this.”
Matthew laughed.
“She deserves to.”
“Matthew.”
He dialed.
A girl answered almost immediately.
“Finally.”
Matthew put her on speaker.
“Olivia, listen carefully. Are you home?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Go to the library.”
Rebecca whispered:
“No.”
Olivia heard her.
“Mom?”
Matthew continued.
“Behind the second bookcase is a panel.”
Silence.
Then Olivia whispered:
“How do you know about that?”
“You found it too?”
“Yes.”
Rebecca sat down.
Matthew frowned.
“What did you find?”
Olivia hesitated.
“Nothing.”
“Olivia.”
“I found photos.”
“What photos?”
“Babies.”
Rebecca covered her face.
Matthew looked at us.
“Find the safe.”
“There is no safe.”
Rebecca’s head lifted.
“What?”
Olivia continued.
“The wall compartment is empty.”
Rebecca stood.
“That’s impossible.”
“I opened it last week.”
“Last week?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Grandpa told me to.”
Rebecca’s face drained.
Matthew whispered:
“Grandpa contacted you?”
Olivia began crying.
“I thought you knew.”
“What did he ask you to do?”
“He said Mom had been keeping family records from him.”
Rebecca staggered backward.
“Did you give him the ledger?”
“I didn’t know what it was.”
“Olivia!”
“I’m sorry!”
Matthew closed his eyes.
“When?”
“Six days ago.”
Victor already had the ledger.
Everything we believed collapsed again.
Then why was he demanding Rebecca?
Sofia whispered:
“He doesn’t need evidence destroyed.”
My father looked at her.
“He needs witnesses destroyed.”
Rebecca understood.
“He’s cleaning up.”
Patricia.
David.
Elena.
Rebecca.
Anyone connected to the truth.
My father grabbed the principal’s phone.
“Tell the police this is now an immediate rescue.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“The explosives.”
Matthew looked at his phone.
“Olivia, leave the house.”
Silence.
“Olivia?”
A man’s voice answered.
“Too late.”
Victor.
Rebecca screamed:
“OLIVIA!”
Victor laughed.
Matthew nearly dropped the phone.
“Where is my sister?”
“Safe.”
“Let me talk to her.”
“No.”
“You touch her—”
“You sound like your father.”
Matthew froze.
Victor continued.
“Jonathan always believed anger made him brave.”
Matthew’s face hardened.
“What do you want?”
“Rebecca.”
“You already have the ledger.”
“Correct.”
“So why her?”
Victor went silent.
Then:
“Because Rebecca knows where the originals are.”
Everyone turned toward her.
Rebecca shut her eyes.
Matthew whispered:
“Originals?”
Victor laughed.
“The ledger contains copies.”
Sofia looked at Rebecca.
“Where are the original hospital records?”
Rebecca said nothing.
Victor answered for her.
“Ask Maria.”
Mom stared at the phone.
“What?”
Victor chuckled.
“They have been in your house for eighteen years.”
My mother looked completely lost.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Patricia hid them.”
Everyone froze.
Aunt Patricia had lived in our house for six months.
She had not moved in because she needed somewhere to stay.
She had moved in because something was hidden there.
My father whispered:
“Where would Patricia hide records?”
Mom shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
Then I remembered.
The tea.
The kitchen.
Aunt Patricia had been spending hours in our pantry.
Rearranging shelves.
Cleaning cupboards.
She had even replaced part of the floor after saying there was water damage.
I stared at Mom.
“The pantry.”
Dad looked at me.
“What?”
“She redid the pantry floor.”
Mom’s eyes widened.
“Three months ago.”
Exactly when Patricia began investigating.
Victor heard us.
His voice changed.
“You should not have said that aloud.”
The line disconnected.
My stomach dropped.
“He knows.”
Dad grabbed his keys.
“We have to get home.”
Sofia said:
“If records are there, his people will already be moving.”
Matthew looked toward the window.
“Mercer.”
The corrupt deputy.
Patricia’s biological son.
He might already be heading to our house without knowing he was destroying the evidence his own mother had spent years protecting.
My father told the principal:
“Call the officers. Our address. Now.”
Then my phone rang.
David.
I answered instantly.
“David?”
He whispered:
“Don’t speak loudly.”
Mom grabbed my arm.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m inside the warehouse.”
“You’re conscious?”
“Yes.”
“What about Patricia?”
“She’s gone.”
My heart stopped.
“What do you mean gone?”
“When I woke up, Victor had moved her.”
“Where?”
“I heard Bellflower.”
The houses and tunnel.
Victor had been moving hostages between both locations to confuse everyone.
David continued.
“Elena is still here.”
Sofia grabbed the phone.
“Can you reach her?”
“I think so.”
“David, please.”
“I’ll try.”
Then he whispered:
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“The man Victor said killed Jonathan.”
“Yes?”
“I saw him.”
“Who is he?”
David took a breath.
“Deputy Mercer.”
Rebecca went pale.
Sofia whispered:
“Charles killed Jonathan?”
“No.”
David’s voice trembled.
“Victor told him he did.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mercer thinks Jonathan was his father.”
Silence.
My blood ran cold.
Patricia’s stolen son had been raised believing Jonathan Rivas was his biological father.
Victor had shaped his entire life with lies.
David continued.
“Victor told Mercer Jonathan abandoned his mother. That Patricia wanted him dead.”
Sofia whispered:
“He turned Patricia’s own son against her.”
“Yes.”
Then David said:
“And Mercer is on his way to Valerie’s house.”
Dad ran for the door.
Matthew followed.
Rebecca shouted:
“Wait!”
Dad turned.
“What?”
“If Mercer finds the records, Victor will order him to burn the house.”
My mother screamed:
“Our house?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Victor has done it before.”
My father left.
Mom followed.
I moved too.
Dad turned.
“No, Valerie.”
“That’s my house.”
“You’re staying here.”
“No.”
“Your baby comes first.”
I stopped.
Those words did it.
My baby.
For hours, every adult’s secrets had been deciding what happened to the child inside me.
I placed a hand on my stomach.
Dad softened.
“Stay with the principal.”
“I’m not hiding anymore.”
“This isn’t hiding.”
“It feels like it.”
He walked back and put both hands on my shoulders.
“You want to be brave?”
I nodded.
“Then be brave enough not to run into danger just because everyone else is running.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Dad.”
“I need to know at least one person I love is safe.”
I hugged him.
Hard.
“Bring them back.”
“I will.”
Mom hugged me next.
Then she looked at Matthew.
“You stay too.”
Matthew shook his head.
“My sister is missing.”
“Matthew—”
“My biological mother is trapped in a warehouse, my sister is somewhere with Victor, and the woman who might be my aunt is being held hostage.”
He looked at me.
“I’m going.”
I wanted to tell him not to.
Instead I said:
“Come back.”
He stared at me.
“I will.”
Then they left.
Sofia went with them.
Rebecca went too, because police needed her to identify Victor’s properties and explain the tunnel system.
For the first time all morning, I was alone.
Almost.
The principal remained.
The counselor.
The security officer.
And the old journal.
I sat down.
My hands would not stop shaking.
The principal handed me water.
I stared at it.
She noticed.
“Sealed bottle.”
I almost laughed.
That was what my life had become.
Afraid of tea.
Afraid of water.
Afraid of family names.
I opened the bottle myself.
Then I looked at Elena’s journal.
There was something wrong.
Something we had missed.
Victor wanted the journal badly enough to kidnap people.
But the journal only told part of the story.
Rebecca had the adoption ledger.
Patricia had the original records.
Why did Victor care about one teenage girl’s diary?
I began reading from the beginning.
Not skimming.
Reading.
Elena wrote about school.
Music.
Her sister Sofia.
Jonathan.
Then Patricia.
Patricia appeared constantly.
Patricia says she knows a secret about Victor.
Three pages later:
Patricia says if anything ever happens to her, the truth is inside the story.
I frowned.
Inside the story?
I turned the page.
Another entry:
Victor thinks adults are smarter than children because adults look for safes. Children look inside books.
My heartbeat changed.
I held the journal differently.
The cover felt thick.
Too thick.
I ran a finger along the spine.
Something was hidden underneath the leather.
“Mrs. Alvarez?”
The principal walked over.
“What?”
“Do you have scissors?”
The security officer said:
“Don’t damage evidence.”
“I think there’s something inside.”
He examined the spine.
Then pulled out a small pocketknife.
Carefully, he lifted a loose piece of leather.
Something metallic clicked onto the desk.
A key.
Tiny.
Brass.
Taped inside the journal’s spine.
The principal stared.
“What does it open?”
I searched the cover.
Nothing.
Then I saw numbers scratched into the key.
317.
Room number?
Locker?
Safety deposit box?
I flipped through Elena’s journal looking for 317.
Nothing.
Then the counselor whispered:
“School lockers.”
The principal looked at her.
“What?”
“Old building numbering.”
She turned to me.
“Before the renovation, lockers on the third floor were numbered in the three hundreds.”
My heart pounded.
“Does locker 317 still exist?”
The principal thought.
“The old lockers were moved to basement storage.”
We all looked at one another.
Ten minutes later, the security officer had located a row of rusted blue lockers behind stacks of chairs.
317 was there.
The key fit.
My hands shook as I turned it.
Inside was a metal box.
No bigger than a shoebox.
I opened it.
Photographs.
Cassette tapes.
Hospital badges.
And a sealed envelope.
On the envelope:
IF VALERIE EVER FINDS THIS, PATRICIA FAILED.
My blood went cold.
My name.
Written eighteen years ago.
“No.”
The principal stared.
“How could your name be on something written before you were born?”
I touched the ink.
Maybe the envelope was newer.
Maybe Patricia had placed it there.
I opened it.
Inside was a letter.
Valerie, if you are reading this, then Victor found out who you are.
I stopped breathing.
The principal whispered:
“Who you are?”
I kept reading.
Your mother will tell you that you were born on March 8. That is true. She will tell you Carlos Herrera is your father. He is the man who raised you and loved you, but he is not the man whose blood you carry.
The room disappeared.
My fingers went numb.
“No.”
I read the next line.
Then again.
Then a third time.
Maria never knew the truth because the hospital altered one final record.
Tears blurred the page.
The principal sat beside me.
I forced myself to continue.
When Maria gave birth at sixteen, Victor stole her son. Years later, when Maria returned to St. Matthew’s to deliver you, Victor recognized her name. He ordered blood work without her knowledge because he believed there was something unusual in the Rojas family line.
I did not understand.
What family line?
Why would he care?
The next paragraph answered.
Jonathan Rivas was not Victor Rivas’s biological son.
I froze.
What?
Jonathan’s biological father was Maria and Patricia’s father, Rafael Rojas.
My grandfather.
I nearly dropped the letter.
If that was true, Jonathan Rivas had actually been my mother’s half-brother.
Which meant when Jonathan got Maria pregnant…
My stomach lurched.
The horror was bigger than anyone had understood.
My mother had unknowingly conceived a child with her own half-brother.
David.
My mother’s stolen son.
David was the child of that relationship.
I gagged.
The principal grabbed a trash can.
I pushed it away.
There was more.
Victor discovered Jonathan’s true parentage only after Elena became pregnant. He feared blood testing would expose the family secret. That is why the babies became dangerous. That is why records were changed.
My hands shook violently.
Then:
But Valerie, there is one thing Maria still does not know.
I whispered:
“Please don’t.”
I read anyway.
Carlos is not your biological father because Maria was already pregnant when she met him.
That made no sense.
My parents had told me they had been together years before I was born.
Unless that story was another lie.
The next sentence destroyed everything.
Your biological father is the only surviving son Victor ever acknowledged publicly.
I stared at the paper.
Rebecca had one brother besides Jonathan?
I remembered hearing the Rivas company history.
Jonathan died young.
Rebecca inherited part of the company.
But there had been another Rivas.
A man who moved overseas.
A man whose name had disappeared from local stories.
Alexander Rivas.
Matthew’s supposed uncle.
My biological father?
Then the final lines:
Victor has protected Alexander for fifteen years because Alexander does not know you exist. Patricia discovered this only after obtaining the blood records. Victor believes that if Alexander learns the truth, he will turn against him.
That makes you the one person Victor cannot allow to reach Alexander.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I stared at it.
The principal whispered:
“Don’t answer.”
I did.
A man spoke.
Not Victor.
A younger voice.
Calm.
“Valerie?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Alexander Rivas.”
My entire body went cold.
“I think I’m your father.”
I could not speak.
Then he said:
“And you need to leave that school immediately.”
“Why?”
His voice became urgent.
“Because Victor never sent Mercer to your house.”
My heartbeat stopped.
“Then where did he send him?”
Alexander whispered:
“To you.”
A gunshot exploded somewhere upstairs.
The principal jumped.
The security officer drew his weapon.
Footsteps thundered in the hallway.
Someone screamed.
Then the lights went out.
My phone remained pressed against my ear.
Alexander shouted:
“Valerie, RUN!”
And from the darkness outside the basement door, a man’s voice called my name.
“Valerie Herrera?”
Deputy Charles Mercer had found me………..
TO BE CONTINUED IN LAST PART…
