Chapter 3: The Hidden Room
660 Words
The photograph on Amara's phone made her hands shake.
Someone had taken it from outside Adrian's apartment.
Someone was watching them.
Adrian read the message again, his expression unreadable.
“Give me your phone.”
Amara handed it over.
He studied the photograph, then walked toward the windows.
“Stay here.”
“Where are you going?”
“To check something.”
“I'm coming with you.”
“No.”
“Adrian—”
“Amara, whoever sent that photograph wants you frightened. Don't give them what they want.”
He disappeared into the dark hallway.
Amara remained still.
The apartment was silent except for the rain tapping against the windows.
Then she heard a door close.
She turned.
“Adrian?”
No answer.
She followed the sound.
At the end of the hallway was a door she hadn't noticed before.
It was slightly open.
Amara pushed it wider.
Inside was a small study.
A desk stood beside a bookshelf, covered with old documents.
She stepped inside.
She shouldn't have.
But something on the desk caught her attention.
A photograph.
Amara picked it up.
It showed Isabella Sterling holding a baby.
The same baby.
Her.
But there was something different about this photograph.
Someone had written a message on the back.
If anything happens to me, take Amara to Lydia Vale. Never let the Sterlings find her.
Amara's heart pounded.
“Lydia…”
Her mother hadn't simply raised her.
She had been protecting her.
A floorboard creaked behind her.
Amara turned.
Adrian stood in the doorway.
His eyes immediately went to the photograph.
“Where did you find that?”
“In here.”
He walked toward her.
“Put it down.”
“Why?”
“Because my father kept that room locked.”
Amara looked around.
“Then why was it open?”
Adrian didn't answer.
She turned the photograph around.
“Is this Isabella?”
“Yes.”
“And this is me?”
“Yes.”
“Why did she tell my mother to hide me from the Sterlings?”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“Because she was afraid of someone in my family.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's the truth.”
Amara stared at him.
“Then help me find out.”
Adrian looked at her for several seconds.
Finally, he nodded.
“Fine.”
He walked to the bookshelf and pulled out a thick folder.
“There may be something here.”
They searched through the documents together.
Most were old business records.
Then Amara found a letter.
The envelope had never been opened.
Her name was written across it.
AMARA.
Her fingers froze.
“That's impossible.”
Adrian took a step closer.
“Open it.”
Amara carefully unfolded the letter.
There were only a few lines.
Amara,
If you're reading this, then the truth has finally found you.
Your father isn't who you think he is.
And neither is the man who raised you.
Trust Lydia. Trust no one else.
—Isabella
Amara stared at the final sentence.
“Who raised me?”
Adrian looked at her.
“Your mother told you your father died, didn't she?”
“Yes.”
“She lied.”
Amara's eyes widened.
“What?”
“Your father wasn't dead.”
Before she could ask another question, the lights came back on.
Adrian's phone rang.
He answered.
“What?”
His expression changed.
“What happened?”
A pause.
Then:
“Send everyone to Lydia Vale's house.”
Amara stood.
“What happened?”
Adrian looked at her.
“They found your mother.”
“Is she alive?”
“We don't know.”
Amara grabbed her coat.
“Then let's go.”
Adrian didn't stop her.
This time, he followed.
And neither of them noticed the small camera hidden above the bookshelf.
A red light blinked once.
Someone had heard everything.
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