Chapter 2: The Woman at the Door
Nobody moved.
The doorbell rang again.
Once.
Then twice.
Marcus stared at the front door like he was looking at an approaching storm.
I was still holding the letter.
My graduation cap had slipped sideways, and I could hear the faint music from my graduation ceremony playing on my phone somewhere upstairs.
The world outside was celebrating.
Inside this house, everything I knew was collapsing.
“Who is she?”” I asked.
Marcus swallowed.
“Claire, listen to me.””
“No.””
“Please.””
“You've had eighteen years to tell me the truth.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
“From what?””
He didn't answer.
I stepped toward the door.
His hand caught my wrist.
“Don't open it.””
I stared at his fingers.
Then at his face.
“You told me she was dead.””
Marcus released me.
“I told you what I thought I had to tell you.””
The doorbell rang again.
I opened it.
The woman standing on the porch was holding a small black purse with both hands.
She looked older than the woman in my childhood photographs.
Her dark hair was streaked with gray.
There were lines around her eyes.
But her eyes—
I knew them.
Somehow, I knew them.
She stared at me.
Her lips parted.
“Claire?””
My knees almost gave out.
I whispered, “Who are you?””
The woman covered her mouth.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“My name is Elena.””
Marcus appeared behind me.
“Claire, step away from the door.””
The woman looked past me.
At him.
“You told me you would tell her.””
Marcus's face hardened.
“I told you not to come here.””
“I waited eighteen years.””
My chest tightened.
“Eighteen?””
Elena looked at me.
“I was four when you disappeared,” I said.
“You were four when your father took you away.””
Marcus snapped, “That's enough.””
Elena flinched.
I turned toward him.
“Did she disappear?””
“Claire—”
“Did you take me away?””
He rubbed his forehead.
“Your mother was sick.””
Elena shook her head.
“I wasn't sick.””
Marcus looked at her.
“Don't.””
“You said she deserved to know.””
“She deserved a chance to grow up without being dragged into this.””
I looked between them.
“Dragged into what?””
Neither answered.
Elena stepped onto the porch.
“I need to show you something.””
Marcus moved in front of me.
“No.””
I pushed past him.
“What?””
Elena reached into her purse.
She pulled out a photograph.
A little girl stood in a park wearing a yellow dress.
Beside her was Elena.
But there was something written on the back.
I turned it over.
Claire, age five.
My breath caught.
“I was five in that picture.””
Elena nodded.
“Yes.””
“That means I saw you after you supposedly died.””
“Yes.””
May you like
I stared at her.
“
