Now she did.
The fourth child was not a secret anymore.
The fourth child was the reason Anna had disappeared.
And somewhere in the world, another person was waiting for the Hale family to discover the truth.
The final piece had not been lost.
It had been hidden.
And whoever had hidden it had been waiting thirty years for Victoria to find it.
For several minutes, nobody moved.
The birth certificate lay on the table between them.
Its paper was yellowed with age.
The ink had faded in places.
But the name was still clear.
Evelyn Rose Mercer.
Victoria stared at it.
She felt as though she had been transported back to another time.
Another house.
Another night.
She was twelve years old again.
She could see the hallway.
She could smell the rain.
She could hear her father's shoes striking the wooden floor.
And she remembered a baby crying.
Not Anna.
Not Lucy.
Not Michael.
Another baby.
A tiny voice behind a closed door.
Victoria had forgotten it.
Or perhaps she had spent decades trying not to remember.
She touched the certificate.
"That's her."
Lucy looked at her.
"You know the name?"
Victoria nodded slowly.
"I've heard it before."
"Where?"
"My father's office."
"When?"
"The night Anna disappeared."
Lily stepped closer.
"What did you hear?"
Victoria closed her eyes.
Her memory returned in fragments.
Her father had been arguing with someone.
A woman.
Victoria had never known who.
Then a door had slammed.
She had seen her father holding a newborn.
He had looked furious.
Terrified.
And he had said:
"No one will ever know she existed."
Victoria opened her eyes.
"I thought I dreamed it."
Michael shook his head.
"You didn't."
"How do you know?"
"Because Mom told me."
Victoria stared at him.
"When?"
"Years ago."
"What did she say?"
Michael looked toward Lily.
Lily answered.
"She said Evelyn was her first daughter."
Victoria's heart tightened.
"Then why did Anna never tell me?"
"Because Evelyn was taken."
"By whom?"
Lily hesitated.
"Your father."
The words were quiet.
But they seemed louder than anything else in the room.
Victoria stood.
"Why?"
Lily shook her head.
"We don't know."
Michael picked up the birth certificate.
"There is another problem."
"What?"
He pointed to the father's name.
Blank.
"This wasn't an accident."
Victoria looked at the document.
"Why would the father's name be removed?"
"Because someone wanted Evelyn's identity erased."
Lucy frowned.
"But if Anna was her mother, why wouldn't she be listed?"
"She was."
Michael pointed to another line.
"Mother: Anna Mercer."
"Father: unknown."
Victoria stared.
Then she saw something written in pencil beneath the official information.
A single letter.
R.
She touched it.
"Richard."
Michael nodded.
"Maybe."
Victoria shook her head.
"My father wasn't Evelyn's father."
"How do you know?"
"Because my mother told me."
Lily looked at her.
"What did she say?"
Victoria remembered.
It had been years before her mother died.
They had been sitting in the garden.
Her mother had looked strangely sad.
She had said something Victoria never understood.
"Your father isn't the man you think he is."
Victoria had assumed she meant emotionally.
Now she wondered whether she had meant it literally.
She stood.
"We need my mother's old journals."
Lucy frowned.
"Do we still have them?"
"Some."
"Where?"
"At my mother's childhood home."
Michael looked at her.
"Does it still exist?"
Victoria nodded.
"It was sold after she died."
"Who owns it now?"
Victoria looked at the address.
"Someone named Evelyn Whitmore."
Silence.
Lucy whispered,
"That's impossible."
Victoria stared at the page.
"No."
She shook her head.
"It's not."
The house stood on the outskirts of Savannah.
It was smaller than Hale House.
Older.
Covered in ivy.
The windows were narrow.
The front porch sagged.
But Victoria remembered it.
She had spent summers there.
Anna had learned to ride a bicycle there.
Their mother had planted roses along the side of the house.
Victoria stood at the gate.
For a moment, she could hear Anna laughing.
Then she remembered the truth.
Anna had never been allowed to grow old here.
She had been forced to run.
Lucy stood beside her.
"Are you okay?"
Victoria nodded.
"No."
Lucy smiled.
"That's honest."
Victoria took a breath.
"Let's go."
They knocked.
Nobody answered.
They knocked again.
The door opened.
A woman stood there.
She was perhaps fifty years old.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
A faint scar above her eyebrow.
Victoria froze.
The woman looked at her.
Then at Lucy.
Then at Michael.
Finally, she looked at Lily.
Her face changed.
"You found them."
Victoria's voice was barely audible.
"Who are you?"
The woman stepped aside.
"My name is Evelyn."
Lucy stared.
"The fourth child."
Evelyn nodded.
"Yes."
Victoria could not move.
The woman standing before her was not a child.
She was an adult.
She had lived a lifetime.
A lifetime without them.
"How old are you?"
"Forty-two."
Victoria calculated.
The dates matched.
Anna had given birth to Evelyn before Lucy.
Before Michael.
The woman looked at the three siblings.
"I've been waiting for you."
Michael stepped forward.
"Who raised you?"
Evelyn looked away.
"People who weren't supposed to."
"Who?"
"My grandmother."
Victoria frowned.
"Which grandmother?"
Evelyn looked at her.
"Yours."
Victoria's blood went cold.
"My mother?"
Evelyn nodded.
"She raised me."
"But that's impossible."
"Why?"
"My mother died before you were old enough to remember."
"I remember her."
Victoria stared.
Evelyn smiled sadly.
"She wasn't your mother."
Victoria felt the world tilt.
"Then who was she?"
Evelyn answered:
"She was Anna's mother."
Victoria shook her head.
"No."
Evelyn walked toward an old cabinet.
She opened a drawer.
Inside were letters.
Photographs.
And a journal.
She placed it on the table.
"Your mother raised me because she was trying to protect me."
Victoria opened the journal.
The handwriting belonged to Evelyn Whitmore.
The first entry was dated 1983.
I have taken Evelyn into my care.
Richard must never know.
Victoria's hands trembled.
The next entry:
Anna believes her daughter is dead.
She cannot know that I saved her.
Another: