CHAPTER 4: THE CHILD IN THE FIRE
Richard’s face turned gray.
Claire stared at him, waiting for him to deny it.
He didn’t.
The distorted caller laughed softly.
“Ask him about the second bedroom.”
The line went dead.
Claire grabbed Richard’s arm.
“What second bedroom?”
Richard looked toward the guests, as if searching for a way to escape without opening a door.
“Not here.”
“You locked us in here.”
“Claire—”
“My entire life has been built around that fire. You don’t get to decide where I hear the truth.”
Richard lowered his voice.
“The night you were born, your mother delivered two girls.”
Claire’s grip loosened.
“No.”
“One was healthy. The other couldn’t breathe.”
“You told the world you had one daughter.”
“The doctor told us the second child had died.”
Claire felt the ballroom tilt beneath her.
Richard continued carefully.
“Years later, your mother became convinced the doctor had lied. She believed the baby had been taken.”
“And you didn’t investigate?”
“I did. The doctor disappeared before I could question him.”
Claire looked toward Evelyn.
The older woman’s controlled expression had finally cracked.
“You knew,” Claire said.
Evelyn shook her head.
“You are confused and traumatized.”
“That isn’t a denial.”
Adrian moved toward his mother.
“What is she talking about?”
Evelyn ignored him.
Claire’s memories of the fire returned in broken flashes.
Smoke filling a hallway.
A woman screaming.
A child’s hand slipping from hers.
For years, she had assumed the child was imaginary—a detail created by trauma.
But what if it wasn’t?
“I remember someone beside me,” Claire whispered.
Richard looked sharply at her.
“What?”
“There was another girl in the house.”
“How old?”
“My age.”
Richard closed his eyes.
Claire felt sick.
Miriam had always forbidden her from discussing that memory. Whenever Claire mentioned the girl, Miriam said smoke could create visions.
But smoke didn’t hold your hand.
Smoke didn’t call you by a different name.
Claire turned toward Adrian.
“When we first met, you called me Clara.”
Adrian’s face went still.
“You said you misheard my name.”
“I did.”
“No. You recognized me.”
Adrian looked at his mother.
For the first time, he seemed genuinely frightened of her.
Before he could answer, Marcus Reed hurried back into the ballroom.
“The stolen case has been located.”
“Where?” Richard asked.
Marcus looked toward the ceiling.
“It never left the building.”
A hidden projector suddenly activated above the stage.
The ballroom curtains turned white.
Security footage appeared on the screen.
It showed the three seconds of darkness from an infrared camera.
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A slender woman crossed the room, lifted the steel case, and disappeared behind the auction stage.
Her face was identical to Claire’s.
