Chapter 9: The Voice From The Past
Nobody moved.
Nobody breathed.
For twenty years, I had lived with one painful certainty.
My mother was gone.
Now Richard Harrington was standing in front of me, holding a phone that carried a voice I thought I would never hear.
A voice that belonged to the woman who used to sing while making breakfast.
The woman who kissed my forehead before school.
The woman whose perfume I could still remember.
“Nia.””
My father’s voice was barely audible.
I looked at him.
He looked terrified.
Not because he was afraid of the call.
Because he was afraid of what it meant.
Richard extended the phone.
“She asked for you.””
I didn’t move.
“What if it’s a trick?””
Nobody answered.
Because everyone was thinking the same thing.
Finally, my father stepped beside me.
“You don’t have to do this.””
I looked at him.
“Yes.””
My voice shook.
“I do.””
I took the phone.
For a moment, there was only static.
Then a breath.
A quiet, trembling breath.
And then—
“Nia?””
My knees almost gave out.
I covered my mouth.
I couldn’t speak.
The voice continued.
“My baby…”
The world disappeared.
I was no longer inside the Harrington estate.
I was six years old again.
Standing at the front door.
Watching my mother leave.
Waiting for her to come back.
“Mom?””
The word came out broken.
The other side went silent.
Then I heard crying.
My mother was crying.
“Oh my God.””
Her voice shook.
“You’re so grown.””
I closed my eyes.
“How?””
That was the only word I could say.
“How are you alive?””
A long silence followed.
Then:
“Because they wanted everyone to believe I wasn’t.””
I looked at my father.
His face had gone pale.
“Who?””
My mother answered quietly.
“The Harringtons.””
Margaret stood.
“No.””
Everyone looked at her.
My mother continued.
“Margaret knows the truth.””
Margaret shook her head.
“I didn’t…”
“You did.””
The pain in my mother’s voice was unmistakable.
“You knew what they were going to do.””
Margaret started crying.
“I tried to stop them.””
My mother laughed sadly.
“After you helped them.””
The room became unbearable.
I held the phone tighter.
“Mom, where have you been?””
“I’ve been hiding.””
“Why?””
“Because the moment I disappeared, they stopped looking for me.””
“Who?””
“The person behind everything.””
My father stepped closer.
“Who is it?””
My mother hesitated.
Then said:
“Your grandfather.””
My father froze.
“What?””
Richard looked confused.
“Impossible.””
My mother’s voice became softer.
“The Harrington family story you know is incomplete.””
I looked at Alexander.
Then Margaret.
Then Richard.
“What does that mean?””
My mother answered:
“It means Alexander Harrington was never the beginning.””
A cold silence followed.
“Then who was?””
My mother whispered:
“The man who built everything before him.””
My father’s face changed.
“No.””
My mother continued.
“The man who everyone thought died twenty-five years ago.””
The lights inside the estate flickered.
Everyone looked around.
Then the front doors opened.
Slowly.
A figure stood outside.
Older.
Using a cane.
But standing straight.
Every person in the room recognized him.
Even Richard.
Because his face appeared on every Harrington family portrait.
Alexander whispered:
“Father.””
My mother’s voice came through the phone.
“Nia…”
My hand trembled.
“Mom?””
Her voice dropped.
“Run.””
The old man stepped into the room.
And smiled.
“After all these years…”
May you like
He looked directly at me.
“I finally meet my granddaughter.””