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

My mother had never told me I had a twin.

But as I read the old medical records, I discovered a document dated the day I was born.

Twin delivery. Female infant transferred to neonatal care.

The record had been crossed out in red ink.

Beside it, someone had written:

Infant deceased.

No death certificate existed.

No burial record existed.

Only a single signature authorized the change.

Richard Whitmore.

I sat at the kitchen table with the documents spread before me.

Victoria was beside Nora, holding her hand for the first time. Clara sat opposite them, while Emma played quietly on the rug.

"What does this mean?" I asked.

Dr. Reed had arrived an hour earlier. He examined the document and shook his head.

"It means your mother delivered twins. One infant was recorded as deceased, but the record was never supported by a medical certificate."

"Who was the other baby?"

"I don't know."

I looked at the address from the locket.

"Then we find Emily."

We drove to Salem that afternoon.

The address led to a small white house overlooking the water. Its porch was lined with potted herbs, and wind chimes moved gently in the sea breeze.

I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again.

The door opened a few inches.

A woman stood behind it.

Her hair was shorter than I remembered, streaked with silver at the temples. A faint scar crossed her cheek, and she leaned on a wooden cane.

But her eyes were unmistakable.

Emily.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then her hand rose to her mouth.

"Lucas."

I had imagined this moment a thousand times.

I had imagined anger. Questions. Accusations.

Instead, I stood on her doorstep unable to breathe.

"You're alive."

Tears filled her eyes.

"Yes."

I stepped forward, but she backed away.

"Don't."

The word stopped me cold.

"Emily, please."

"You shouldn't have come."

"I found your letter. I found the records. I know about Emma."

Her expression crumpled.

"Where is she?"

"Safe. At the estate."

Emily closed her eyes.

"Thank God."

"Why didn't you come back?"

She looked toward the water.

"Because the last time I tried, someone followed me. They threatened to take Emma. They said if I returned to you, they would tell you that I had stolen money from the company and abandoned my child."

"I would never have believed them."

"You believed the recording."

I had no answer.

Emily lowered herself into a chair.

"After Emma was born, I stayed with Clara for three weeks. Then I discovered that someone had entered my room and taken copies of the hospital records. I knew they were watching me."

"Who?"

"Your father. Daniel. And someone I never saw clearly."

She paused.

"I left because I thought distance would keep Emma safe. Clara agreed to raise her under her own name until I could find a way back."

"Why did you stay away for three years?"

"Because every time I got close, something happened. A break-in. A threat. A stranger asking about Emma."

She lifted her cane.

"And because I was injured in a car accident the night I tried to return."

I stared at her.

"Was it an accident?"

"I don't know."

"Who was driving?"

"Someone who said they were helping me."

My blood ran cold.

"Daniel?"

Emily nodded.

"He claimed he was taking me somewhere safe. Then another car struck us. When I woke up, Daniel was gone, and I had no idea who had brought me to the hospital."

I knelt in front of her.

"I'm sorry."

She looked at me for a long time.

"I wanted to hate you, Lucas. It would have been easier than missing you."

I reached for her hand.

This time, she let me take it.

"I never stopped loving you," I whispered.

Her eyes filled with tears.

"I never stopped loving you, either."

For a moment, the years between us seemed to disappear.

Then Emily's expression changed.

"Did you bring the records?"

"Some of them."

"Then you need to leave. Now."

"Why?"

She gripped my hand.

"Because the person who arranged everything is still alive."

A car door slammed outside.

Emily went pale.

I moved toward the window.

A black SUV had stopped across the street.

Two men stepped out.

One carried a briefcase.

The other raised his face toward the house.

I recognized him immediately.

My father's personal attorney, Arthur Bell.

Emily grabbed my arm.

"Lucas, listen to me. Your father didn't hide the second baby to protect his reputation."

"Then why?"

She looked at me with terrible sadness.

"Because the child was yours."

My breath caught.

"What?"

"Not biologically. Legally. Your mother adopted her before she died. She was your sister, and your father spent three years trying to erase her existence."

The front door shook under a violent knock.