Chapter 2 - The Room That Shouldn’t Exist
I removed the vent.
Behind it wasn’t ductwork.
There was darkness.
Then a narrow wooden panel.
Someone had built a hidden compartment inside the wall.
I called 911.
Claire begged me not to.
That ended any remaining doubt.
I forced the panel open.
The space behind it was barely large enough for a child.
A thin mattress.
A blanket.
Bottles of water.
Crackers.
A battery lantern.
And in the corner—
a little girl.
Five, maybe six.
Messy brown hair.
Pale pajamas.
Huge frightened eyes.
She stared at me.
Then whispered:
“Daddy?”
I felt my knees weaken.
“I’m Ryan.”
She crawled backward.
“Mommy said you forgot me.”
Claire made a broken sound behind me.
I turned.
“What did you tell her?”
Claire covered her mouth.
The paramedics arrived minutes later.
The girl clung to Ethan.
Not Claire.
Ethan kept telling her:
“You’re safe now.”
I stood beside the ambulance while one question tore through me.
Who was she?
Claire finally whispered:
“Her name is Sophie.”
“Whose child?”
Silence.
“Claire.”
She looked at me.
“Yours.”
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was impossible.
“I have one child.”
“You have two.”
“No.”
“She was born before Ethan.”
I stared at her.
Ethan was seven.
Claire and I had been married eight years.
“Who is her mother?”
Claire’s face crumpled.
“That’s where it gets complicated.”
“No. It gets simple right now.”
She looked toward the ambulance.
Then whispered a name I hadn’t heard in almost nine years.
“Emily Dawson.”
My first serious girlfriend.
The woman I dated before Claire.
The woman who disappeared from my life after telling me she wanted nothing more to do with me.
I hadn’t spoken to Emily since.
“Emily had my child?”
Claire nodded.
“You knew?”
Another nod.
“How?”
Claire started crying harder.
“Because she came to me.”
My stomach dropped.
“When?”
“Before our wedding.”
I stepped back.
Claire had known about Sophie before I married her.
Before Ethan was born.
Before we built this house.
And she had said nothing.
Then an officer approached.
“Mr. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“We found something inside the compartment.”
He held up a clear evidence bag.
Inside was a folded photograph.
Me.
Eight years younger.
Standing beside Emily.
May you like
On the back was one handwritten sentence.
If Ryan ever finds you, tell him I tried.
