Chapter 15 The Girl Who Was Never Lost
The stuffed rabbit trembled in my hands.
Its faded white fur was worn thin with age. One button eye was missing, exactly as it had been in the old photograph Richard had shown us only hours earlier.
I looked toward Grace's bedroom.
The nursery window was locked.
The security alarm hadn't sounded.
Every FBI agent was still stationed outside.
Marcus examined the hallway carefully.
"No signs of forced entry."
Leo frowned.
"Then how did someone leave this here?"
No one answered.
Because no one could.
Marcus carefully turned the rabbit over.
Hidden beneath its faded ribbon was a tiny embroidered symbol.
Six stars.
Surrounding a black stone.
"The Blackstone seal," he said quietly.
Richard's face tightened.
"No..."
Marcus looked up.
"You recognize it?"
Richard nodded slowly.
"I haven't seen one of these since Victoria disappeared."
Using a small seam ripper, Marcus opened a section of the rabbit's stitching.
Something metallic slid into his palm.
A tiny brass capsule.
No larger than a lipstick tube.
Inside was a tightly rolled strip of yellowed paper.
Richard unfolded it with trembling hands.
Only one sentence had been written.
Victoria was never taken.
Leo frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Richard whispered,
"It means..."
"...she left willingly."
Silence filled the room.
I stared at him.
"A four-year-old doesn't willingly disappear."
"No."
Richard's voice cracked.
"But someone convinced her to."
Marcus immediately returned to the Founders' Ledger.
There had to be another clue.
Halfway through the book, he found a page that had been glued together decades earlier.
Carefully separating the paper, he uncovered a hidden entry.
A list of names.
Each followed by a single title.
Guardian.
Witness.
Keeper.
Successor.
And finally—
Child of Promise.
Next to the title was only one handwritten name.
Victoria Sinclair.
Leo leaned closer.
"What exactly was the Child of Promise?"
Richard closed his eyes.
"The families believed that every few generations..."
He hesitated.
"...one child would inherit responsibility for preserving the Accord."
Marcus frowned.
"Responsibility?"
"Not power."
"Memory."
"Memory of what?"
Richard looked toward the old oak tree outside.
"The truth."
Across town...
Dominic finally agreed to cooperate with federal investigators examining Vance Holdings.
His attorney slid a stack of financial records across the table.
"We've identified over forty unauthorized transactions."
Dominic rubbed his temples.
"I've told you."
"I didn't approve them."
The lead investigator nodded.
"We believe you."
Dominic looked surprised.
"You do?"
"We also believe someone manipulated your executive credentials for years."
The investigator opened another file.
"This account received most of the missing money."
Dominic looked down.
His heartbeat stopped.
The account holder wasn't Brooke.
It wasn't Nathan.
It wasn't Margaret.
The beneficiary was—
Olivia Vance Family Trust.
Dominic stared in disbelief.
"My mother?"
The investigator answered carefully.
"We're not saying she received the money."
"But the trust was used as an intermediary."
For the first time...
Dominic seriously considered that his own mother might have been deceiving him for years.
Meanwhile...
Marcus visited the captured intruder once again.
This time the man looked exhausted.
As though he hadn't slept since his arrest.
Marcus placed the stuffed rabbit on the table.
The prisoner's face immediately changed.
"Where did you get that?"
"It was left outside Grace's nursery."
The man lowered his head.
"So..."
"...she finally decided."
Marcus frowned.
"Who?"
The prisoner looked directly at him.
"Victoria."
Marcus remained perfectly still.
"Victoria Sinclair is alive?"
The prisoner smiled sadly.
"She's the oldest Guardian."
Marcus's pulse quickened.
"How old is she now?"
"Thirty-two."
Marcus blinked.
"That doesn't make sense."
Richard had told them Victoria disappeared twenty-eight years earlier.
The ages matched.
But if Victoria had survived...
Then every assumption about her disappearance had been wrong.
The prisoner continued.
"You think Blackstone stole children."
Marcus nodded.
"They did."
"Sometimes."
"But not Victoria."
"What happened?"
"She volunteered."
Marcus stared at him.
"She was four."
The prisoner nodded.
"They started preparing her before she could remember another life."
Marcus left the interrogation room more unsettled than ever.
If Victoria was alive...
Then somewhere, a woman who had vanished as a child had spent nearly three decades inside Blackstone.
That evening...
Richard stood alone beneath the old oak tree.
He held the faded photograph of Victoria and my mother.
"I failed you," he whispered.
A voice answered from the darkness.
"No..."
"You kept your promise."
Richard froze.
Slowly...
He turned.
A woman stepped into the moonlight.
Mid-thirties.
Long blonde hair.
Calm blue eyes.
She carried herself with quiet confidence.
In one hand...
She held the other half of the stuffed rabbit.
Richard's eyes filled with tears.
"Victoria..."
She smiled softly.
"It's been a long time..."
"...Grandfather."
Richard couldn't speak.
He simply stared.
Every search.
Every funeral without a body.
Every year of unanswered questions.
She had been alive all along.
Victoria stepped closer.
"I can't stay."
Richard finally found his voice.
"Come home."
She gently shook her head.
"I don't have one."
"You do."
"No."
She looked toward the guesthouse where Grace slept.
"She does."
Richard noticed tears in her eyes.
"What happened to you?"
Victoria glanced toward the woods.
"They're already watching."
"Who's watching?"
She whispered,
"The woman who replaced Evelyn."
Richard frowned.
"Margaret?"
Victoria slowly shook her head.
"No."
"Margaret reports to someone else."
Before Richard could ask another question...
A red laser dot appeared on Victoria's chest.
Richard shouted,
"Down!"
A gunshot cracked through the night.
Victoria shoved Richard aside just as the bullet struck the oak tree behind them.
Marcus came running from the house.
"Sniper!"
Agents scattered for cover.
A second shot echoed across the property.
But when Marcus reached the tree...
Victoria was gone.
The only thing she had left behind was a folded photograph.
May you like
On the back, written in neat handwriting, were seven chilling words:
The real Matriarch is already inside your family.
