THE HOUSEKEEPER’S DAUGHTER KNEW THE FACE I HAD SPENT THREE YEARS TRYING TO FORGET

I did not sleep that night.

At two in the morning, I sat in my study with the flash drive connected to an old laptop that wasn't linked to the estate's network.

The drive contained three files.

Two were corrupted.

The third was a recording.

Emily's face appeared on the screen.

She looked exhausted. Her hair was tied back, and a faint bruise marked her left cheek.

But she was alive.

"Lucas," she began, her voice trembling, "if you've found this, then Clara has decided you're finally ready to know the truth."

I leaned toward the screen.

"I didn't leave you. I was taken from you."

Emily glanced over her shoulder before continuing.

"Your father discovered that Richard Whitmore had been using a charitable foundation to move money through shell companies. I found the records because one of the accounts was linked to the hospital where I volunteered."

She swallowed.

"When I confronted him, he told me I was mistaken. Then he showed me documents bearing your signature. They made it look as though you knew everything."

I shook my head.

"No."

"I wanted to believe you hadn't betrayed me. But then someone called and threatened you. They said if I stayed, you'd die."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I was pregnant. I couldn't take that risk."

She paused, looking down at something outside the camera's view.

"Lucas, there were complications during delivery. The doctors thought our daughter might not survive. For several hours, I believed I'd lost her."

My chest tightened.

"But she lived. And when I woke up, Dr. Reed told me another baby had been delivered that same night. A little girl whose mother had died."

Emily's expression changed.

"That baby's father was listed as unknown. But her medical records had been altered, and someone had paid to have her transferred to another facility."

She leaned closer to the camera.

"I don't know who the second baby belongs to. I only know that someone was willing to kill to keep her identity hidden."

The recording ended abruptly.

I sat motionless.

Another child had been born the same night as Emma.

And Emily had believed the two births were connected.

A knock came at the study door.

Clara entered carrying a small photograph.

"This is what Emma was talking about," she said.

The photograph showed Emily sitting on a hospital bed, holding two newborn girls.

One wore a white cap.

The other wore pink.

On the back, Emily had written:

My Grace. And the little girl nobody wanted to claim.

I looked up.

"Where is the second child?"

Clara's face crumpled.

"I don't know."

"How could you not know?"

"Emily asked me to help arrange a safe placement for her. She said the baby's mother had been threatened, and that if the child stayed in the hospital, someone would take her."

"Did she tell you who the mother was?"

"No. She only said the baby deserved a chance at a normal life."

I looked again at the picture.

"Why did Emily believe the two babies were connected?"

"Because someone had switched their hospital identification bracelets."

The room seemed to grow colder.

"What?"

"Dr. Reed discovered it before the discharge papers were signed. He corrected the records, but he told Emily someone had deliberately tried to make the babies' identities uncertain."

I stood.

"We're finding him."

Clara nodded.

Then she looked toward the window.

"There's something else."

I waited.

"Emma isn't the only child I've been protecting."

Before I could ask another question, the estate's security alarm sounded.

A guard's voice came over the intercom.

"Mr. Whitmore, someone has entered the east garden."

I rushed to the window.

A figure stood beyond the iron fence, barely visible in the rain.