No One Owns Me

Chapter 27 — The House We Left Behind

The key feels heavier than lead in my fist, all the way back across town. No one speaks much. Duncan drives slow and steady, Isabella pressed tight against my side, Ward watching me in the rear-view mirror every few minutes. I know he’s checking I’m holding together. I’m not. But I’ve gotten very good at hiding how close I am to breaking.

Eventually Duncan breaks the silence. “We don’t have to go tonight. It’ll still be here tomorrow.”

“Yes it will,” I say, my voice flat. “But we won’t.”

“Casey—”

“Daniel said this is where the truth is. And this key belonged to Dad. That’s enough for me.”

Duncan falls quiet. He knows that settles it.

Twenty minutes later, we turn down the familiar lane. My throat tightens. I recognise every bend, every gnarled oak, the cracked pavement at the bus stop where I waited every morning for years. And then there it is: the house I grew up in.

It looks smaller than I remember. The garden runs wild, paint peels from the window frames, ivy crawls up the brickwork like a bruise. But it’s still there. The place where I learned to ride a bike, where I scraped my knees, where I fell asleep listening to my parents laugh in the kitchen.

“I never thought I’d see it again,” I whisper.

Duncan cuts the engine. “We can wait in the car if you want.”

I shake my head. “I need to do this.”

We walk up the overgrown path. Every step drags up old memories—warm ones first, then cold: the shouting, the slamming doors, the night men in black cars came, and everything I knew vanished.

I stop on the doorstep. My hand trembles on the key.

“I don’t want to go in,” I admit.

Ward steps closer, quiet and steady. “We’re right here. All of us.”

I push the key into the lock. It turns with a sharp, familiar click.

The smell hits me first: dust, damp wood, and the faint, ghosted scent of pine polish Mum used every Saturday. The hallway feels smaller than it did when I was small. I run my fingers along the wall, and for a second I’m six years old again, running down these stairs yelling for someone to watch my cartwheel.

Then another sound: soft, mechanical, from deeper inside.

“Did you hear that?”

Ward nods instantly. “Yeah. Kitchen.”

We move through. On the wall hangs the old grandfather clock that stopped the day Dad left. Tucked behind its casing is a small metal box, sealed tight, the Crown’s crest stamped deep into the lid.

Duncan swears under his breath. “They knew this was here.”

My hands shake as I lift the lid. Inside: a USB drive, a faded photograph, and a letter folded tight.

The photo shows Mum and Dad standing in this very kitchen, grinning, younger and lighter than I remember. Behind them, half in shadow, stands Daniel. Scrawled on the back in Dad’s handwriting: Three days before I disappear. Not die. Disappear.

I stare at Duncan. “You told me he was already sick. That he didn’t have long.”

Duncan’s face goes pale. “That’s what Lorenzo told me. That’s what everyone believed.”

“Lorenzo lied.” I turn back to the box. “He lied about everything.”

Ward finds an old laptop tucked in a cupboard—dusty, but still working. I plug in the drive. One file glows on the screen: FOR CASEY. NO ONE ELSE.

I click play. Dad’s face fills the frame. He looks tired, his jaw tight, but his eyes are bright, alive.

“If you’re watching this,” he says, “then I failed to keep you far away from all of this. But if you’ve found me… then it’s time you knew.” His voice softens. “Your mother didn’t abandon you. She saved you. The night you were born, men waited outside the hospital. They wanted Isabella. They thought she was the key. But they were wrong.”

He leans in, serious as stone. “The truth is—”

The screen glitches. The image freezes, then vanishes.

“NO!” I hit the keys, panic rising hot in my throat. “Come back!”

“File’s corrupted,” Ward says gently. “But look.”

Beneath the error message, new text flickers: SECOND FILE. OPEN WITH THE KEY.

I twist the key in my hand. “There’s no other lock.”

“Maybe there is,” Isabella says suddenly. She points to the fireplace, to a square metal plate hidden behind loose bricks.

The key slots in perfectly. I turn it. A whole section of the wall swings open, revealing a narrow niche. Inside sits a second drive, and an envelope marked only with my name.

I tear it open. Inside is another photo: Mum, Dad, me as a baby… and Isabella, swaddled in their arms. Beneath it, written in ink: THEY WERE NEVER THE ONLY ONES.

“What does that mean?” I ask, turning to Duncan.

Before he can speak—

SLAM.

The front door crashes shut.

Ward draws his weapon in one smooth motion. Footsteps echo slow and deliberate down the hall.

“Everyone stay quiet,” Duncan breathes.

The footsteps stop just outside the kitchen.

Then Lorenzo’s voice, soft and amused, curls through the air:

“Casey. You really should have stayed buried in the past.”

My blood turns to ice. I grip the second drive tight.

We didn’t find a secret. We walked right into the one they laid for us.