Chapter 3 - THE MUSIC BOX BENEATH THE DUST
“What secret?” Victoria demanded, her voice shrill. “I never blackmailed her! I didn’t speak to Isabella for years before the accident!”
Anthony ignored her.
He looked at me. “Emily.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go to the attic. Find the mahogany music box. Bring it here.”
“I’ll go with her,” Noah said quickly.
“No,” Anthony said. “Stay here with me. Emily, go. Now.”
I didn’t hesitate. I dropped my apron on a chair and ran up the grand staircase.
My hands were shaking as I reached the third floor. The attic was a sprawling room filled with sheet-covered furniture and forgotten memories.
I flicked on the overhead light.
I knew exactly where the music box was. I had dusted it twice a month since I was hired. It sat on a high shelf near the back window, intricately carved with roses.
I reached up and pulled it down. It was heavy.
But as I turned to leave, a shadow moved by the doorway.
I gasped.
Arthur, Victoria’s father, stood blocking the exit.
“Give that to me, Emily.”
I held the box tighter to my chest. “Mr. Hale, please move.”
“You don’t understand what’s inside,” Arthur said, his voice desperate. “It will destroy everything. Victoria was wrong to hurt Isabella, but this… this will ruin Noah.”
“Mr. DeLuca asked for it.”
Arthur stepped closer. He pulled a thick stack of cash from his jacket pocket.
“Ten thousand dollars. Right now. You said you have medical bills. Just hand me the box and tell Anthony it wasn’t up here.”
I stared at the money. It was exactly what I needed to save my father.
But I thought about Noah. A thirteen-year-old boy who had just learned his mother drove a sabotaged car to protect him.
“Keep your money,” I said, stepping around him.
Arthur grabbed my arm. “You’re making a mistake.”
“Let her go, Arthur.”
We both froze.
Aunt Rosa stood at the top of the stairs, leaning heavily on her silver cane. Behind her were two of Anthony’s guards.
Arthur slowly released my arm.
“Take it downstairs, Emily,” Rosa said quietly.
I ran down the stairs, my heart pounding, until I reached the dining room.
The police had not yet arrived. The guests were frozen in their seats, terrified to move.
I handed the music box to Anthony.
He took the silver key from Isabella’s letter and inserted it into the lock.
It clicked.
The lid popped open.
Inside, there was no jewelry. No ballerina spinning to a lullaby.
There was a stack of medical files, a cassette tape, and a small, delicate silver bracelet.
Victoria gasped the moment she saw the bracelet.
“Where did she get that?” Victoria whispered, her face pale.
Anthony ignored her. He picked up the medical files. The logo on the top read: St. Jude’s Fertility Clinic.
He read the first page, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“These are Victoria’s medical records from the surrogacy screening,” he said.
Noah stepped closer. “What do they say, Dad?”
Anthony flipped to the second page. He stopped.
He read it again.
Then he looked at Victoria, absolute disgust radiating from his eyes.
“You’re not his mother,” Anthony said.
Victoria flinched. “What are you talking about? You saw the adoption papers!”
“I see a blood test,” Anthony said, holding up the file. “Taken three days before the embryo transfer. You tested positive for a genetic heart defect. The clinic disqualified you as a surrogate.”
The room erupted in whispers.
“That’s a lie!” Victoria screamed. “I carried him! I gave birth to him! Everyone saw me pregnant!”
“You were pregnant,” Anthony agreed, his voice deadly calm. “But not with my son.”
He threw the file onto the table.
“Isabella found out you were disqualified. But she also found out you forged the clinic’s approval documents because you wanted the payout.”
Noah stared at his father. “If she’s not my mom… who is?”
Anthony reached into the music box and pulled out the delicate silver bracelet.
He turned it over. Engraved on the inside was a name.
He looked at me.
My breath caught in my throat as he read the name aloud.
May you like
“Margaret Carter.”
My mother’s name.
