Chapter 16 - THE LETTER THAT SHOULD HAVE STAYED BURIED
Three days after the wedding, Rowan finally allowed herself to believe that the worst was over.
She was wrong.
The morning began peacefully.
For the first time in weeks, she woke without the sound of someone arguing downstairs. No slammed doors. No whispered accusations. No footsteps pacing outside her bedroom.
Sunlight spilled across the floor through the half-open curtains.
Rowan remained in bed for several minutes, staring at the ceiling.
She could still remember the wedding.
The humiliation.
The betrayal.
The moment she had finally stopped begging people to believe her.
And most of all, the strange feeling that had settled inside her afterward.
Freedom.
It wasn't happiness.
Not yet.
But it was freedom.
She sat up slowly and looked at the small ring on her finger.
Wells had given it to her the night before.
Not as a replacement for the wedding that had nearly destroyed her.
As a promise.
No secrets.
No manipulation.
No pretending.
Just the truth.
A soft knock came at the door.
"Rowan?"
Wells.
She smiled faintly.
"Come in."
The door opened.
Wells stood there holding two cups of coffee.
"I thought you might need this."
Rowan took one.
"You're learning."
"I've been married for three days."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Exactly. You're still in training."
Wells laughed.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Then his expression changed.
"There's something downstairs."
Rowan frowned.
"What?"
"A letter."
Her smile disappeared.
"What kind of letter?"
"I don't know."
"Who is it from?"
Wells hesitated.
"That's the problem."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a white envelope.
There was no stamp.
No return address.
No name.
Only three words written across the front in black ink.
YOU DON'T KNOW HER.
Rowan stared at it.
Her fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was under the front door."
"When?"
"This morning."
"Did anyone see who left it?"
"No."
She looked toward the hallway.
Something about the envelope made her skin crawl.
"Wells..."
"I know."
"You think it's another threat?"
"I don't know."
Rowan took the envelope.
It felt strangely heavy.
She opened it.
A photograph slid onto the table.
For several seconds, neither of them spoke.
It showed a young woman standing outside a courthouse.
Rowan's breath caught.
She knew that woman.
Even though the photograph was more than twenty years old.
It was her mother.
But she wasn't alone.
Standing beside her was a man Rowan had never seen before.
A tall man in a dark suit.
One hand rested on a leather briefcase.
The other held a cigarette.
Rowan turned the photograph over.
There was handwriting on the back.
September 14, 2002.
And beneath it:
Ask her what happened that night.
Wells leaned closer.
"Do you recognize the man?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
Rowan shook her head.
"I've never seen him."
Wells picked up the photograph.
His eyes narrowed.
"Look at the building."
Rowan looked again.
A sign was visible above the entrance.
HART & CROSS — ATTORNEYS AT LAW.
Her stomach tightened.
"Cross."
"What?"
"That name."
"What about it?"
"I've heard it before."
"From your mother?"
Rowan closed her eyes.
She searched her memory.
A childhood memory came back.
A locked study.
Her mother arguing with someone.
A man's voice.
Deep.
Angry.
And one sentence she had heard through the door.
"If Daniel talks, we're all finished."
Rowan opened her eyes.
"Daniel."
Wells stared at her.
"Daniel who?"
"I don't know."
She looked at the photograph again.
"The man in this picture."
Wells placed it carefully on the table.
"Then we find out."
Rowan shook her head.
"No."
He looked at her.
"No?"
"We don't confront my mother."
"Why?"
"Because if someone sent this to me, they want me to ask questions."
"And?"
"And they probably know what happens when I do."
Wells remained silent.
Rowan picked up the photograph.
"Someone wants me afraid."
She looked at the words on the back.
Ask her what happened that night.
"Well..."
Her voice became quieter.
"I'm not going to be afraid anymore."
That afternoon, Rowan drove to the old family house.
Wells insisted on coming.
She almost refused.
But when she saw the house, she changed her mind.
Nothing had changed.
The white columns.
The black iron gate.
The enormous oak tree beside the driveway.
Even the cracked stone fountain her mother had always complained about.
Rowan parked the car.
She remained behind the wheel.
Wells looked at her.
"You don't have to do this."
"I know."
"You can leave."
"I know."
"Then why are you still sitting here?"
Rowan looked at the house.
"Because I spent my entire childhood trying to understand what was wrong with me."
She swallowed.
"Maybe it was never me."
Wells reached across the console and took her hand.
"Then let's find out."
They entered through the front door.
The house was silent.
Too silent.
"Mom?"
No answer.
Rowan walked into the living room.
Everything was exactly as she remembered.
The old piano.
The antique clock.
The family photographs.
She stopped.
One photograph caught her attention.
It showed her mother standing with Rowan and Josie.
They were smiling.
But Rowan noticed something strange.
There was a small section of the photograph that had been cut away.
Someone had deliberately removed another person.
She touched the torn edge.
"Why would someone cut a person out?"
Wells came closer.
"Maybe because they didn't want you to know who it was."
Suddenly, footsteps sounded upstairs.
Rowan froze.
Wells turned.
"Did you hear that?"
"Yes."
The footsteps stopped.
Then a door slammed.
Rowan's heart raced.
"Someone's here."
They climbed the stairs.
At the end of the hallway, her mother's study door was slightly open.
Rowan pushed it.
The room was empty.
But the window was open.
The curtains moved in the wind.
Wells rushed to the window.
"Someone just left."
Rowan looked around.
Something was missing.
The photograph.
The one from the envelope.
It was gone.
Her phone suddenly vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
You should have stayed away.
A second message followed.
Now they know you're looking.
Rowan stared at the screen.
Then the phone rang.
She answered.
"Hello?"
Silence.
Then a man's voice.
Low.
Calm.
Almost amused.
"You really are your mother's daughter."
Rowan's blood ran cold.
"Who are you?"
The man laughed softly.
"You found the photograph."
"Who are you?"
"You've been asking the wrong question."
"What question should I ask?"
A pause.
Then:
"Ask your mother why she erased a little girl's name from the family Bible."
The call ended.
Rowan stood motionless.
Wells stared at her.
"What did he say?"
She slowly lowered the phone.
"He said..."
Her voice broke.
"There was another girl."
Wells frowned.
"What girl?"
Rowan looked toward the family photographs.
"I don't know."
Then she noticed something.
On the desk.
Beneath an old stack of papers.
A tiny handwritten note.
She picked it up.
There was only one sentence.
Rebecca Hart was never supposed to survive.
Rowan stopped breathing.
Wells read it over her shoulder.
His face went pale.
"Rebecca?"
Rowan shook her head.
"I don't know anyone named Rebecca."
But somewhere deep inside her memory...
A little girl's voice whispered.
Don't leave me.
Rowan turned sharply toward the hallway.
For the first time in twenty years, she remembered something she had spent her entire life forgetting.
A little girl.
Brown hair.
A white dress.
Standing at the bottom of a staircase.
Crying.
And Rowan had been holding her hand.
Then someone had pulled them apart.
Rowan's eyes filled with tears.
"I remember her."
Wells looked at her.
"Who?"
Rowan whispered the name.
"Rebecca."
Behind them, something crashed downstairs.
They both turned.
The front door was open.
And on the floor outside was another envelope.
This time, it contained only one sentence.
If you want the truth about Rebecca, come to the Blue House tomorrow at midnight.
Rowan stared at the message.
Wells stepped beside her.
"You're not going alone."
She nodded.
But before she could answer, her phone buzzed again.
One final message appeared.
Bring Josie. She remembers everything.
Rowan's face went completely still.
Because suddenly, she understood.
Josie had been lying.
Not just their mother.
Not just their father.
Josie knew.
And whatever had happened to Rebecca twenty years ago...
May you like
Her sister had been there.
TO BE CONTINUED...
