The Fourth Name

Chapter Four: The Secret in The Study

Vivienne found her father in his study.

Richard Hartwell sat behind his desk, reviewing documents beneath the afternoon sunlight. Everything looked exactly as she remembered it: the dark wooden shelves, the leather chairs, and the silver clock that had belonged to her grandfather.

Then her gaze settled on the locked display case beside the window.

The silver bracelet rested inside.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked.

Richard looked up.

"For you? Always."

It was a comforting answer from a man who had spent the last two days refusing to answer her questions.

Vivienne entered and closed the door.

"Do you remember the bracelet in your display case?"

His expression barely changed.

"Why are you asking about it?"

"Because I saw it in a photograph."

She placed her phone on his desk.

The picture showed four children beside the garden fountain. Isabelle stood between Vivienne and Alexander, holding their hands.

The bracelet was visible on her wrist.

Richard stared at the screen.

He didn't ask who the girl was.

He didn't ask where Vivienne had found the photograph.

He simply looked at it.

"You recognize her," Vivienne whispered.

Her father raised his eyes.

"Where did you get that?"

"That's not what I asked."

"Vivienne—"

"Her name is Isabelle, isn't it?"

Richard rose and walked toward the window.

"How much have you remembered?"

The question chilled her.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

He closed his eyes briefly.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have. Apparently, everyone knows what happened to me except me."

He turned around.

"I never wanted you to suffer because of something that happened when you were young."

"Then tell me what happened."

Richard looked at the photograph again.

"Things became complicated between our families. There were disagreements, accusations, and decisions made by people who believed they were doing the right thing."

"Isabelle disappeared."

"Yes."

The admission left Vivienne momentarily speechless.

"Is she dead?"

"No."

The answer came so quickly that she froze.

Her father seemed to realize what he had revealed.

"At least, I have no reason to believe she is."

"Then where is she?"

"I don't know."

Vivienne searched his face.

She wanted to believe him. She also wanted to believe that a father who loved his daughter wouldn't hide something this important from her.

But love didn't explain the locked display case.

Nor did it explain the fear in his eyes.

"Can I see the bracelet?"

"No."

The refusal was immediate.

"Why?"

"Because I don't think you should be looking at it."

"It's a bracelet, Dad."

"You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me!"

Richard's composure finally broke.

"Because I made a promise!"

The words rang through the room.

Vivienne stared at him.

"A promise to whom?"

He looked at her as though he had already said too much.

"Someone who believed that keeping you away from this part of your past was the only way to protect you."

"Who?"

"I can't tell you."

"You're asking me to accept that you kept secrets from your own daughter because someone told you to?"

"I'm asking you to understand that I had reasons."

"Then give me one."

He said nothing.

Vivienne picked up her phone.

"Fine. If you won't help me, I'll find the answers myself."

She reached the door.

"Vivienne."

She turned.

Her father's expression had changed. Beneath his frustration was something she couldn't quite identify.

"Whatever you discover, don't assume the person who hurt you is the person who disappeared."

She stared at him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means you should be careful about who you blame."

He offered nothing more.

Vivienne left, more determined than ever to discover what her father was hiding.

---

Adrian answered her call while she was crossing the garden.

"Please tell me you're calling to invite me somewhere pleasant."

"I need you to answer a question."

"Naturally."

"Did you know my father had Isabelle's bracelet?"

The humor vanished from his voice.

"You saw it?"

"In a photograph. I asked my father about it, and he refused to let me examine it."

Adrian fell silent.

Vivienne stopped walking.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Going quiet whenever I get close to something important."

"I'm trying to remember something."

"Then remember aloud."

He sighed.

"I heard about a box years ago. Your father kept it in his study, and nobody was supposed to touch it."

"What was inside?"

"I don't know. I never saw it."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I didn't know whether the story was true."

"And now?"

"Now I think you should find out."

Vivienne glanced toward the house.

"Will you help me?"

"Of course."

His answer was immediate.

For once, she didn't hear a warning hidden behind it.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. If your father catches us snooping around his study, I'm blaming you."

A small laugh escaped her.

"You're unbelievable."

"I've been told."

They ended the call.

Vivienne looked toward the study window.

She had grown up in this house. She knew its corridors, its staircases, and the places where her father kept things he considered important.

If there really was a box, she intended to find it.

---

That night, Vivienne waited until the house had grown quiet.

She found the spare key to the study in the drawer beneath the staircase, where her father kept old household documents.

The key turned with a soft click.

She slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

Moonlight spilled across the desk.

The bracelet remained inside its locked display case, its silver surface catching the faint light.

Vivienne studied it for a moment.

Four children had once stood together in the garden.

Now one was missing, one was withholding the truth, and she couldn't remember enough to understand why.

She moved to the desk.

The first drawer contained stationery. The second held old photographs and receipts. The third was locked.

She tried the spare key.

It didn't fit.

"Of course," she whispered.

She crouched to examine the desk and noticed a narrow wooden panel beneath its right side.

Pressing the edge released a small compartment.

Inside lay a dust-covered box tied with a faded ribbon.

Vivienne lifted it carefully.

There was no label and no lock.

Only the ribbon, which had faded almost to gray.

She untied it.

Inside lay a folded sheet of paper and an old photograph.

The photograph showed two women standing outside a building Vivienne didn't recognize.

One was her mother.

The other woman's face had been torn away.

Vivienne's fingers tightened around the paper.

She turned the photograph over.

A date had been written on the back.

The same date as the night Isabelle disappeared.

Beneath it were six handwritten words.

If she returns, tell her nothing.

Vivienne read the sentence again.

Who was supposed to return?

Isabelle?

Or the woman whose face had been torn from the photograph?

A floorboard creaked outside the study.

Vivienne looked toward the door.

Someone had stopped on the other side.

Then came her father's voice.

"Vivienne."

She held her breath.

The handle began to turn.

"Whatever you're holding," Richard said quietly, "put it down."

She looked at the photograph one last time.

Then he spoke again.

"Your mother died trying to keep that secret buried."

Vivienne went completely still.

Her mother.

The woman whose face had been torn away.

The date connected to Isabelle's disappearance.

And a message instructing someone to tell a returning woman nothing.

Before Vivienne could make sense of any of it, the door opened.

Richard stood in the doorway.

His eyes went straight to the photograph in her hand.

For several seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then he looked at her with an expression she had never seen before.

Not anger.

Not disappointment.

Fear.

"Where did you find that?" he whispered.

Vivienne held the photograph against her chest.

"In your box."

Richard stepped inside and closed the door.

"Listen to me carefully," he said. "Whatever you think this means, you must not show that photograph to Alexander Blackwood."

Vivienne's heart began to pound.

"Why?"

Her father looked at the torn face in the photograph.

"Because if Alexander sees it, he'll know you've found the wrong secret."