Chapter 10: The Child in the Coffin
The nurse repeated the sentence.
"Tell her the child who died in that fire was...""
Then the line went dead.
I stared at Adrian's phone.
"What happened? Who died?""
Adrian immediately called the facility back.
No answer.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Thomas was standing beside the bed, gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
"That can't be true," he whispered.
I looked at him.
"Father, what child was buried?""
He shook his head.
"I don't know.""
"You were there!""
"I was unconscious when they took me out of the mansion. When I woke up, Vincent told me you were dead.""
"But you just said you saw them bury someone!""
Thomas closed his eyes.
"I attended a funeral. There was a small white coffin. Margaret was there.
Vincent was there. They told me it was you.""
I stepped backward.
"They buried a child and told you it was me?""
Thomas nodded.
"I was broken. I had lost my wife, my daughter, and everything I had built. I believed them.""
Adrian paced toward the window.
"Someone has been switching identities and manipulating death records for twenty years.""
Marco entered the room, his injured shoulder wrapped in fresh bandages.
"Boss, I found the nursing facility footage.""
He placed his laptop on the table.
The video showed my mother leaving through a side entrance at 11:43 p.m.
She was wearing a gray coat and carrying a small leather suitcase.
A black sedan waited outside.
Marco zoomed in on the driver.
His face was partially visible.
I recognized him.
"That's Vincent.""
Adrian leaned closer.
"Are you sure?""
"I saw him at the farmhouse. I'd recognize him anywhere.""
Marco froze the image.
There was another person sitting in the back seat.
A small figure.
Someone wearing a red scarf.
Thomas stared at the screen.
Then he whispered:
"Emily.""
I turned toward him.
"Who is Emily?""
He sat down.
"My younger daughter.""
The room went silent.
Adrian frowned.
"Thomas, you told us Isabella was your only daughter.""
Thomas looked exhausted.
"That's what I believed.""
He rubbed his forehead.
"Emily was born two years before the fire. Margaret told me she died during childbirth.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Another child?""
Thomas nodded.
"I never saw her body. Margaret said the hospital handled everything.""
Adrian's voice became sharp.
"And now you're telling us she might be alive?""
Thomas stared at the photograph.
"That woman in the back seat could be her.""
I looked at the image.
The red scarf.
The small hands.
The shape of her face.
Something about it seemed familiar.
Then a memory surfaced.
A little girl sitting beside me on a staircase.
She was holding a wooden rabbit.
She whispered, "Don't tell Mommy we're playing here.""
I grabbed the edge of the table.
"I remember her.""
Everyone turned toward me.
"Who?""
"Emily. I remember a little girl. She used to call me Bella.""
Thomas covered his mouth.
"Oh, God.""
Adrian immediately stood.
"Marco, find out where that car went.""
Marco began typing.
"Already tracing the registration. It belongs to a company registered in Delaware.""
"Who owns it?""
Marco paused.
"Vincent Kane.""
Adrian grabbed his coat.
"We're going to find him.""
I stepped forward.
"And my mother.""
He looked at me.
"We'll find both.""
The vehicle was eventually traced to a private estate in Westchester County.
The property had belonged to Thomas's father before being transferred to a holding company.
We arrived shortly before sunset.
A security gate blocked the road.
Marco approached the intercom.
"Open the gate.""
A woman's voice answered.
"Who is this?""
"Marco Kane.""
There was a pause.
Then the gate opened.
Adrian looked at him.
"How did she know you?""
Marco shrugged.
"I have no idea.""
We drove up a long driveway lined with bare trees.
The mansion appeared at the end.
It was smaller than the original Whitmore estate, but it had the same white stone exterior and tall windows.
My hands began trembling.
I remembered this place.
Not from photographs.
From childhood.
The wooden swing.
The fountain.
The smell of roses near the entrance.
I stepped out of the car.
"Father, I've been here before.""
Thomas stared at the building.
"So have I.""
The front door opened.
A woman in a gray coat appeared.
She was holding a wooden rabbit.
My breath caught.
The rabbit from my memory.
The woman stepped into the light.
She was young, perhaps twenty-five.
She had dark hair and my eyes.
"Isabella?"" she whispered.
I couldn't speak.
She dropped the rabbit.
Then she ran toward me.
"You're alive!""
She wrapped her arms around me.
I held her tightly.
"Emily?""
She nodded against my shoulder.
"I thought I'd never see you again.""
Thomas stood motionless.
Then Emily looked over my shoulder.
"Daddy?""
Thomas began crying.
"My little girl.""
He reached for her.
She ran into his arms.
For several moments, the three of us stood together.
Adrian watched quietly.
Then Emily pulled away.
Her expression changed.
"Where's Margaret?""
I looked at her.
"She's missing.""
Emily's eyes filled.
"No.""
"What?""
She shook her head.
"She didn't disappear. She told me she was going to meet Vincent.""
Adrian stepped closer.
"Why would she do that?""
Emily looked toward the mansion.
"Because she wants to finish what she started.""
Then she handed Adrian a sealed envelope.
On the front was his name.
Inside was a single photograph.
It showed Vincent standing beside a grave.
The gravestone carried my name.
ISABELLA WHITMORE.
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But beneath the photograph, someone had written:
*THE GIRL IN THE COFFIN WAS NEVER ISABELLA.*
