PART 5: Victoria’s Last Secret
PART 5: Victoria’s Last Secret
The entire room went silent.
The only sound was the alarm screaming through the mansion.
A warning.
A threat.
A reminder that someone had entered the place we thought was safe.
But nobody was looking at the doors.
Everyone was staring at the screen.
At Victoria.
My stepmother.
Standing in my mother’s old bedroom.
Holding a letter.
A letter from the woman who had been dead for seven years.
My hands curled into fists.
“How did she get in there?”
My voice sounded different.
Older.
Colder.
My grandmother didn’t answer.
Because she was staring at Victoria like she had just seen a ghost.
“Robert.”
My father looked at her.
“What?”
“Where is the second entrance?”
His face changed.
A small reaction.
But I saw it.
“You knew?”
My grandmother turned toward him.
“You knew she had access?”
My father looked away.
That was enough.
The betrayal hurt differently this time.
Because I was tired of discovering new versions of the same person.
“Dad.”
He looked at me.
“I can explain.”
“No.”
My voice cracked.
“You always say that.”
A pause.
“And then you explain nothing.”
The screen flickered.
Victoria smiled.
“You’re right, Emma.”
Everyone looked back.
Victoria held the letter in front of the camera.
“Your father has always been very good at hiding things.”
She looked around the room.
“Especially from children.”
My grandmother stepped toward the screen.
“Victoria.”
Her voice was sharp.
“What do you want?”
Victoria laughed.
“What do I want?”
A pause.
“You really don’t remember?”
My grandmother’s face tightened.
“Remember what?”
Victoria looked almost amused.
“That’s the problem with powerful people.”
She leaned closer.
“They think they can bury the past.”
My father suddenly spoke.
“Victoria, stop.”
Her expression changed.
She looked at him.
Not afraid.
Not respectful.
Just angry.
“Don’t tell me what to do, Robert.”
The way she said his name was strange.
Not like a wife speaking to her husband.
Like someone speaking to someone she hated.
I noticed.
And my grandmother noticed too.
“You were never loyal to him.”
Victoria smiled.
“Loyal?”
She laughed.
“No one was loyal in this family.”
A pause.
“We were all just surviving.”
My heart raced.
“What does that mean?”
Victoria looked directly at me.
“It means your mother wasn’t the only one who discovered the truth.”
The room became colder.
“What truth?”
She lifted the letter.
“This.”
My grandmother stepped forward.
“Read it.”
Victoria smiled.
“Oh, I will.”
She opened the envelope.
The paper unfolded.
And then she began.
“Eleanor…”
My grandmother froze.
Victoria continued.
“You promised me you would protect my daughter.”
Everyone stopped.
My father looked confused.
“Your daughter?”
Victoria looked at him.
“Don’t pretend you forgot.”
A terrible silence followed.
I looked at my father.
“What is she talking about?”
He didn’t answer.
My grandmother did.
But her voice was barely a whisper.
“Victoria had a daughter.”
I stared.
“What?”
Victoria’s smile disappeared.
“Yes.”
Her eyes filled with anger.
“Seven years ago, my daughter died.”
A pause.
“And your mother knew why.”
I felt dizzy.
My mother.
Again.
Everything always came back to my mother.
“What happened?”
Victoria looked at the camera.
“She found out.”
“Found out what?”
Victoria’s voice became quieter.
“That the accident that killed your mother…”
A pause.
“Was meant for someone else.”
Nobody moved.
The room felt frozen.
My father whispered:
“No.”
Victoria continued.
“My daughter was in that car.”
My stomach dropped.
My mother’s accident.
Another child.
Another secret.
My grandmother looked horrified.
“What are you saying?”
Victoria looked at her.
“I’m saying you knew.”
The accusation hit the room.
My grandmother stepped back.
“No.”
Victoria laughed bitterly.
“You always said you protected your family.”
A pause.
“But you only protected your name.”
My father moved toward the screen.
“Where are you?”
Victoria ignored him.
She looked at me.
“Emma.”
I hated how gentle she sounded.
Because cruelty from someone who hated you was easy.
Cruelty from someone pretending to care was worse.
“You deserve to know everything.”
My grandmother’s voice became urgent.
“Emma, don’t listen.”
Victoria smiled.
“Why?”
A pause.
“Because she knows what happened?”
Everyone looked at Eleanor.
My grandmother said nothing.
And that silence scared me.
“Grandma?”
She closed her eyes.
“Emma…”
My voice shook.
“Tell me.”
She didn’t.
That was her answer.
Victoria leaned closer to the camera.
“Your mother was investigating your grandmother.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“She discovered that Eleanor’s company was involved in illegal experiments.”
My grandmother immediately said:
“That is a lie.”
Victoria laughed.
“Is it?”
She looked at the camera.
“Then tell Emma why her mother was collecting evidence.”
Silence.
My grandmother couldn’t.
Because there was evidence.
My mother’s letter.
The files.
The flash drive.
The fear.
All pointing to one thing.
A secret bigger than our family.
Victoria continued.
“Your mother wanted to expose everything.”
A pause.
“But Eleanor stopped her.”
My father suddenly shouted:
“Enough!”
Everyone looked at him.
His face was broken.
“Stop using Emma.”
Victoria stared at him.
“You don’t get to protect her anymore.”
A pause.
“You lost that right.”
Then the screen went black.
The alarm stopped.
Everything became silent.
Too silent.
My grandmother looked at me.
I didn’t recognize her.
Not completely.
Not anymore.
“Is it true?”
She didn’t answer.
I felt tears forming.
“Grandma.”
She looked away.
That hurt more than a lie.
Because it meant the truth was worse.
My father stepped forward.
“Emma, listen to me.”
I backed away.
“No.”
“Please.”
“No!”
My voice echoed through the room.
“You both knew something.”
A pause.
“You both lied.”
Nobody argued.
Because it was true.
Then the front door opened.
Everyone turned.
A woman stood there.
Older.
Exhausted.
Holding a folder.
Security immediately moved toward her.
But my grandmother stopped them.
Because she recognized her.
Her face went white.
“No…”
The woman looked at me.
Then at Eleanor.
And said:
“I came because Emma deserves the whole truth.”
My grandmother whispered:
“Impossible.”
The woman held the folder tighter.
“I know what happened the night your daughter died.”
A pause.
“And I know who ordered it.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
The woman looked at my grandmother.
Then answered:
“The person standing in this room.”
Everyone turned.
The woman pointed.
Not at my father.
Not at Victoria.
May you like
At Eleanor.
My grandmother.
