The Secret Mother of My Children and the Truth That Saved Us
“The one who was never supposed to exist,” Ruth said.
She handed me the key.
“Open it.”
My hand shook as I reached for the lock.
The sound of footsteps started on the stone steps above.
They had found the cellar.
“Hurry,” Ruth whispered.
I turned the key.
The lock clicked.
The door to the cellar began to rattle.
Someone was trying to force it open.
The wood began to splinter.
I pulled the lid off the box.
Inside was a small, leather-bound diary.
And a single, dried rose.
The diary was open to the first page.
The handwriting was Daniel’s.
And the first line made my breath stop.
“She has no idea who I really am.”
The door splintered.
A hand reached through the gap.
The flashlight beam hit the box.
“Got you,” a voice said.
The match went out.
And the dark returned.
But this time, I knew the truth.
And it was more terrifying than the fire.
I gripped the diary to my chest.
And I waited for the door to break.
Because now, I had a weapon.
And I was going to use it.