Behind Closed Doors

CHAPTER FOURTEEN - The Missing Name

By the time I reached home, the sky had turned dark.

I parked the car and sat there with both hands resting on the steering wheel.

I couldn't bring myself to get out.

The message from the unknown number was still open on my phone.

ASK LEO WHAT HAPPENED ON SEPTEMBER 20.

My birthday.

The day I was born.

I had spent nineteen years believing it was the one date in my life that couldn't possibly contain a secret.

Now I wasn't even sure the date belonged to me.

I finally stepped out of the car.

The house looked exactly as it always had.

Warm lights.

Tall windows.

Perfect garden.

A home people would look at and envy.

But I knew better now.

There were secrets in those walls.

Some of them were older than I was.

I entered quietly.

Voices came from the dining room.

Grandma.

Mom.

Daniel.

And Leo.

I stopped before entering.

"...she's becoming suspicious," Daniel was saying.

My heart jumped.

I moved closer.

"She already knows too much," Leo replied.

Mom's voice followed.

"Then we should tell her something."

"Absolutely not," Daniel said.

"Daniel—"

"No."

Silence.

Then Leo spoke.

"She's going to keep digging."

"And what do you suggest?" Mom asked.

"I'll handle it."

My stomach tightened.

I stepped backward.

The floor creaked.

The voices stopped.

I quickly walked toward the staircase as if I had just arrived.

A few seconds later, the dining-room door opened.

Leo appeared.

His eyes found mine immediately.

"You're home."

"Yes."

"Where were you?"

"Out."

"Where?"

I looked at him.

"Why?"

He didn't answer.

His expression remained calm, but his eyes weren't.

"You should have told someone where you were going."

"Why? So someone could follow me?"

His jaw tightened.

"Amaria."

"Don't."

He stepped closer.

"What happened?"

"I met someone."

His expression changed.

"Who?"

"Dr. Miriam Cole."

Leo went completely still.

I watched him carefully.

"You know her."

It wasn't a question.

He looked away.

"I've heard the name."

"That's not what your face said."

"You're imagining things."

"She was there when I was born."

Silence.

Leo looked at me again.

"What did she tell you?"

"That you should tell me."

His face hardened.

"Tell you what?"

"What happened on September 20."

He didn't move.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then he said quietly:

"Go to your room."

I almost laughed.

"That's your answer?"

"It's the safest one."

"Safest for who?"

He didn't reply.

I walked past him.

But as I reached the staircase, he said:

"Amaria."

I stopped.

"Don't trust everyone who claims to know your past."

I turned.

"Does that include you?"

His eyes met mine.

"Especially me."

Then he walked away.

I stood there, stunned.

For the first time, Leo had admitted that I had a reason not to trust him.

---

I waited until the house was quiet.

Then I went back to the study.

I had learned something important.

People became careless when they thought you were asleep.

I switched on the desk lamp and opened the cabinet.

The hospital records were still there.

I searched through them again.

Birth forms.

Discharge papers.

Medical notes.

Most of them were incomplete.

Then I found a thin brown envelope tucked beneath the folder.

There was no name on it.

Only a date.

20 SEPTEMBER.

My hands went cold.

I opened it.

Inside was a single sheet of paper.

It wasn't a birth certificate.

It wasn't medical information.

It was a handwritten instruction.

THE CHILD MUST REMAIN WITH THE VALE FAMILY UNTIL THE MATTER IS RESOLVED.

I read it twice.

Then again.

The child.

Not Amaria.

Not Elena's daughter.

The child.

Below that was another line.

No changes to the registered identity are to be made without authorization.

My heartbeat became louder.

Registered identity.

I pulled out my phone and photographed the page.

Then I noticed something written at the bottom.

Original registration: pending review.

I stared at those words.

Pending review.

For how long?

Why would a newborn's identity need to be reviewed?

I searched through the envelope again.

Nothing.

Then I felt something inside the lining.

A small rectangular object.

I tore the inner paper carefully.

A memory card fell into my palm.

I stared at it.

Someone had hidden it inside the envelope.

I quickly grabbed my laptop.

The card contained only three files.

BIRTH.

TRANSFER.

SEPT20.

My hands trembled as I opened the first file.

It was a scanned document.

Hospital registration.

Mother:

Elena—

Father:

Pending confirmation.

I froze.

Pending confirmation.

I opened the second file.

TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION.

There were several signatures.

One belonged to Daniel Vale.

Another belonged to a hospital administrator.

The third signature was unreadable.

But beneath them was a line:

Recipient: Vale Family Representative.

I swallowed.

Why would my mother give someone permission to take me?

I opened the final file.

SEPT20.

A scanned page appeared.

Most of it had been blacked out.

Only a few words remained visible.

...child released...

...under instruction...

...Elena objected...

And at the bottom:

...identity to remain protected.

I leaned back.

Protected.

That word again.

Everyone kept calling it protection.

But from what?

I closed my eyes.

Then something occurred to me.

If my identity was being protected...

Why had I grown up believing everything was normal?

Why had I never been told?

Why did my family have documents about me that I had never seen?

And why did every trail lead back to the Vale family?

I opened the first file again.

This time, I looked at the date.

The document had been created two days before my birth.

Two days.

Someone had planned something before I was even born.

---

A noise came from the hallway.

I immediately closed the laptop.

The study door opened.

Leo stood there.

Again.

He looked at me.

Then at the laptop.

Then at the memory card in my hand.

His expression became unreadable.

"Where did you get that?"

I didn't answer.

He stepped inside.

"Amaria."

"Why was my father's name on it?"

He stopped.

"Because he was involved."

"In what?"

Leo looked at the floor.

"I don't know everything."

"But you know something."

He didn't deny it.

I stood.

"Tell me."

"Not here."

"Then where?"

"Somewhere nobody can hear us."

I almost refused.

But I needed answers.

We went upstairs to the old sitting room at the far end of the house.

Leo closed the door.

He didn't lock it.

That somehow made me trust him even less.

"What happened on September 20?" I asked.

He remained silent.

"You said you remembered that night."

"I remember parts of it."

"What parts?"

"My father arguing with Elena."

My stomach tightened.

"About me?"

"Yes."

"What were they arguing about?"

"I don't know."

"You were there."

"I was young."

"How young?"

He hesitated.

"Old enough to remember voices."

"Then remember."

His eyes darkened.

"Elena kept saying you belonged with her."

I stared at him.

"Belonged?"

"Yes."

"What did your father say?"

Leo swallowed.

"He said things weren't that simple."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know."

"You keep saying you don't know."

"Because I don't."

I stepped closer.

"What happened after the argument?"

Leo looked at me.

"Someone came."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Leo."

"I told you. I don't know."

"Was it the woman from the photograph?"

His silence returned.

I knew.

"You know her."

"I've seen her."

"When?"

"Years ago."

"Where?"

He looked away.

"At this house."

My heart stopped.

"What?"

"She came here once."

"When?"

"After you were born."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Did she see me?"

Leo didn't answer.

"Did she?"

"Yes."

I felt a chill.

"What did she say?"

Leo's face tightened.

"She asked if you were safe."

"Safe from what?"

He shook his head.

"I don't remember."

"You do."

He looked at me.

"I remember her saying one thing."

"What?"

His voice dropped.

"She said they had given you the wrong name."

The room went silent.

I couldn't breathe.

"The wrong name?"

Leo nodded.

"That's all I remember."

I stepped back.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was told never to."

"By who?"

He didn't answer.

"Your father?"

Another silence.

I laughed bitterly.

"Of course."

I turned toward the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To find out what my real name is."

Leo caught himself before moving closer.

"Amaria, don't."

I turned around.

"What if Amaria isn't my real name?"

His face changed.

For the first time, he looked genuinely afraid.

"You don't understand."

"Then make me understand."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because once you find out who you were before this family gave you their version of your life..."

He stopped.

"What?"

He looked at me.

"...there's no going back."

I opened the door.

Neither of us moved.

Then I heard a sound behind me.

A faint click.

The memory card had fallen from the table.

It landed face-up.

There was writing on the back that I hadn't noticed before.

A handwritten sentence.

I picked it up.

IF SHE EVER FINDS THIS, TELL HER TO LOOK AT THE ORIGINAL RECORD.

My eyes widened.

"Original record," I whispered.

Leo stared at the card.

"Where is it?"

He didn't answer.

I looked at him.

"Where is my original birth record?"

His expression told me everything.

He knew.

I stepped toward him.

"Where?"

Finally, he whispered:

"Your mother has it."

My heart pounded.

"Mom?"

Leo nodded.

"And she has kept it hidden for nineteen years."

I walked out of the room.

Down the hallway.

Down the stairs.

Straight toward Mom's bedroom.

For nineteen years, she had told me who I was.

For nineteen years, I had believed her.

Tonight, I was going to find out whether she had ever been telling me the truth.

I reached her door.

My hand touched the handle.

Then I heard voices inside.

Mom was speaking to someone.

"...she knows about the original record."

A man's voice answered.

"Then it's time."

I froze.

Mom whispered:

"Not yet."

"She's already found the hospital."

Silence.

Then the man said:

"If she sees the original, everything falls apart."

My heart slammed against my ribs.

Mom answered in a trembling voice.

"Then we have to make sure she never sees it."

I stepped away from the door.

Everything inside me went cold.

They knew.

They had always known.

And whatever was written on that original record was important enough to frighten all of them.

I looked toward the dark hallway.

Then back at Mom's door.

For the first time, I wasn't searching for a secret.

I was searching for proof.

And tomorrow, I would find the original record.

Whatever it said—

it had been hidden from me for nineteen years.

And I was finally ready to read it.