Chapter 6 - The Voice in the Dark
The sudden darkness of the basement was absolute, save for the faint beam of the flashlight that had rolled onto the concrete floor.
I stood frozen in the dark, listening to the sound of my own harsh breathing. The lightbulb hadn't just burned out; the glass had exploded outward as if struck by a bullet the exact moment my voice had cut through the quiet.
The power had answered me again.
I bent down with shaking hands, picked up the flashlight, and shined it on the shattered glass dusting the wooden work table. The file containing the truth about my abandoned search and Claire Vance—the girl who became Delilah—lay beneath a veil of broken bulbs.
I shoved the documents into my shoulder bag, locked the cabinet, and hurried back up the narrow stone stairs.
When I pushed open the door leading to the main hallway, I heard voices shouting from the grand foyer.
"You can't do this to me!" Delilah’s voice screamed, her tone bordering on hysteria. "I have rights! I’m a legal member of this family!"
I stepped into the shadow of the hallway archway to watch.
Two men in dark suits—security guards hired by Dad’s corporate team—were standing on either side of Delilah near the front entrance. Two large leather suitcases sat on the marble floor beside them.
Dad stood near the foot of the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression hard as flint. Mom was nowhere to be seen; she had locked herself in her suite hours ago.
"The adoption dissolution papers have been filed with the county court," Dad said coldly. "Your personal accounts have been frozen pending a full audit of the money you stole from the charitable trust. You are leaving this house today, Claire."
At the sound of her real name, Delilah stopped moving. Her eyes went wide, terrifyingly sharp. "What did you just call me?"
"I know where you came from," Dad said, though his voice wavered slightly. "I know what the agency wrote in your file. I brought you here to give you a life, and you used it to poison my home."
Delilah suddenly burst into a loud, mocking laugh that made the security guards visibly uncomfortable.
"You brought me here to save your reputation!" she spat, taking a step toward him. "You didn't adopt me out of love, Richard! You adopted me because your board of directors was dropping your stock when news broke that your real daughter was kidnapped! You needed a photogenic little girl to smile for the press and say everything was fine!"
Dad’s face drained of all color. "That’s not true..."
"It is true!" Delilah yelled. "And guess what? Your precious real daughter knows it too! Why do you think she doesn't talk to you? She isn't mute because of trauma, you old fool! She hates you! She looks at you every single day and sees the man who left her to rot in that home!"
Dad took a step back, clutching the bannister behind him as if he had been punched in the chest.
Delilah turned toward the hallway where I was standing in the shadows. She couldn't see me clearly, but she knew I was there. A wicked, triumphant grin spread across her face.
"You think you won, Rory?" Delilah shouted into the dark hallway. "You think kicking me out gives you your family back? They don't want you. They wanted the idea of you. And now you're stuck in this house with a man who bought a replacement child instead of searching for you!"
"Get her out of here," Dad ordered, his voice breaking.
The security guards grabbed Delilah’s arms, hauling her toward the heavy double doors. She didn't fight them. She just kept laughing, a shrill, hysterical sound that echoed off the high ceilings until the heavy oak doors slammed shut behind her, cutting off the noise.
The foyer was left in a dead, suffocating quiet.
Dad stood at the bottom of the stairs, his head bowed, his shoulders shaking slightly. He slowly turned his head toward the dark hallway where I stood.
"Rory..." he whispered, his voice trembling. "Tell me you don't believe her."
May you like
I looked at him from the shadows. I reached into my bag, touched the cool paper of the confidential file I had pulled from the basement, and said nothing.
My silence was no longer a shield to protect them. It was a cage holding back a storm.
