CHAPTER 5: The Woman Who Was Never Meant to Be Found
CHAPTER 5: The Woman Who Was Never Meant to Be Found
For several seconds, I couldn't answer.
The only sound was my own breathing.
"...Who did you say you are?"
The woman on the phone hesitated.
"My name is Grace."
"I believe... Hannah saved my life five years ago."
I gripped the edge of the attic table.
"That's impossible."
"I know that's what everyone believes."
Her voice carried the weight of someone who had rehearsed these words a thousand times.
"I was told the same thing."
Dad watched my face carefully.
"Who is it?"
I held up one finger.
Grace continued.
"I found your number inside a box that belonged to Hannah."
My heart skipped.
"What box?"
"The one with the butterfly."
I looked down at the wooden chest.
The butterfly clip was still resting beside Hannah's letter.
"How do you know about that?"
"There were two butterfly clips."
She paused.
"We each wore one."
Every hair on my arms stood up.
Twins.
The possibility slammed into me.
Grace seemed to read my thoughts.
"No... not twins."
"My best friend and I."
"She died in the fire."
"I survived."
Everything inside me froze.
"What?"
"The newspapers mixed us up."
The official reports had been wrong.
One little girl had died.
One had lived.
Both had worn matching butterfly clips from the same children's charity home.
Grace took a slow breath.
"Hannah carried me outside."
"She went back because she heard another child crying."
My throat tightened.
"She never came back out in time."
The attic became unbearably quiet.
Grace's next words were even harder to hear.
"I've spent years trying to find the woman who saved me."
"I only recently learned she died."
She began crying softly.
"I never got to tell her thank you."
I closed my eyes.
Neither had I.
Not properly.
Not enough.
After composing herself, Grace said something that made my stomach twist.
"I also found something Hannah wanted you to have."
"What is it?"
"A journal."
Dad looked sharply at me.
"A journal?"
Grace answered before I could.
"She wrote everything."
"What everything?"
"The fire."
"Rachel."
"And... your daughter."
My pulse quickened.
"Millie?"
"Yes."
"Hannah believed someone might come looking for Millie one day."
The room tilted.
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't know."
"She never explained."
"But she wrote one sentence over and over."
Grace slowly read from the page.
"If anything happens to me... Daniel must never let them separate Millie from the truth."
"Them?"
Grace whispered.
"I don't know who 'they' are."
Before I could ask another question, someone shouted in the background of Grace's call.
Her breathing became frantic.
"They found me."
"What?"
"I shouldn't have called."
"Grace!"
"If anything happens..."
The line crackled.
Then, just before the call disconnected, she whispered one final sentence.
"Don't trust Rachel's lawyer."
The call ended.
I stared at the silent phone.
Rachel had a lawyer?
For what?
I hadn't even contacted the police yet.
Someone was already preparing for a fight.
The next morning, a black SUV was parked outside my house.
A sharply dressed man stepped onto the porch holding a leather briefcase.
"Mr. Carter?"
"Yes."
"My name is Michael Avery."
He handed me a business card.
"I'm representing your Aunt Rachel."
"I have no interest in speaking with her."
"You will after you hear this."
He calmly opened the briefcase.
Inside was a thick stack of legal documents.
At the very top was one title.
PETITION FOR EMERGENCY TEMPORARY CUSTODY OF MILLIE CARTER
My blood turned cold.
May you like
Rachel wasn't trying to defend herself.
She was trying to take my daughter.
