 THE LETTER BENEATH THE FLOOR
The following Monday, Detective Miller called Marcus back to the estate.
The west wing was blackened and partially destroyed.
Leo’s bedroom was almost unrecognizable.
Miller crouched beside the remains of the bed.
Then he pointed toward the floor.
“We found this beneath the boards.”
He held up a heavily scorched manila envelope.
The edges were burned.
But the name written across the front was still visible.
Marcus Vance.
Marcus frowned.
“What’s inside?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Marcus took the envelope.
His fingers tightened around it.
Then he opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of water-damaged paper.
He unfolded it.
His eyes moved slowly across the words.
Then stopped.
His face changed.
The letter read:
Marcus,
The child you were told was dead was never buried.
Marcus stopped breathing.
He read the next line.
Your father lied to you. Your firstborn child survived.
His hands began to tremble.
The room became completely silent.
Miller watched him carefully.
Marcus looked up.
“My father told me my baby died.”
Miller nodded.
“There’s more.”
Marcus looked back at the paper.
Look closer at the past you were ordered to forget.
For thirty years, Marcus had believed the child was dead.
Now, for the first time, he wondered whether his entire life had been built on a lie.
And then Detective Miller told him something even more disturbing.
“This room wasn’t always Leo’s bedroom.”
