Mira couldn’t move.

Her father’s face was older than the one she remembered.

His hair had turned almost completely gray. There were deep lines around his eyes, and a thin scar ran from his left temple to his jaw.

But it was him.

Daniel Vale.

The man she had watched disappear eleven years ago.

The man whose funeral had never happened because no body had ever been found.

Mira’s lips trembled.

“Dad?”

He didn’t answer.

He simply stared at her.

Then he said, “You shouldn’t have opened the door.”

Mira stepped backward.

“You sent me the key.”

“No.”

“The envelope.”

“I didn’t send it.”

Her heart began pounding.

“Then who did?”

Daniel looked toward the hallway.

His expression changed.

Fear.

Real fear.

“How long have you been followed?”

Mira frowned.

“I don’t know.”

“Think.”

“I came straight here.”

“From your house?”

“Yes.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Daniel closed his eyes.

“That’s not good enough.”

Mira stared at him.

“You disappear for eleven years and the first thing you ask me is whether someone followed me?”

“I disappeared to keep you alive.”

“Alive?”

Her voice echoed through the room.

“You let me believe you were dead!”

“I had to.”

“You watched me grow up without you.”

“I know.”

“You watched Mom die.”

Daniel’s face hardened.

“Your mother didn’t die.”

The room seemed to tilt.

Mira whispered, “What?”

“Your mother is alive.”

A cold silence filled the room.

Mira shook her head.

“No.”

“I saw her grave.”

“That grave belongs to someone else.”

“Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not.”

Daniel walked toward an old desk.

He opened a drawer and removed a small black notebook.

He placed it in front of her.

Mira didn’t touch it.

“What is that?”

“Your mother’s journal.”

“Where did you get it?”

“She gave it to me.”

Mira’s hands began shaking.

“When?”

“Two days ago.”

She looked up.

“Two days ago?”

Daniel nodded.

“She’s here.”

Mira’s breath caught.

“Where?”

Before Daniel could answer, a loud sound came from downstairs.

Bang.

Both of them froze.

Another sound followed.

A door opening.

Daniel immediately switched off the lamp.

The room disappeared into darkness.

Mira whispered, “Someone’s inside.”

Daniel pressed a finger against his lips.

Footsteps moved across the floor below.

Slow.

Careful.

Someone was walking through the house.

Mira could hear her own heartbeat.

Daniel moved toward the door.

He leaned close to her ear.

“There is a passage behind the bookshelf.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

He pushed a hidden lever.

The bookshelf shifted.

A narrow black passage appeared behind it.

Mira stared.

“You built this?”

“No.”

“Then who did?”

Daniel looked at her.

“Your mother.”

Another footstep sounded downstairs.

Closer.

Daniel pushed Mira into the passage.

“Go.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll follow.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated.

That hesitation frightened her more than anything else.

“Go, Mira.”

She entered the passage.

Daniel closed the bookshelf.

Darkness surrounded her.

Mira moved forward with one hand against the wall.

The passage smelled of damp earth.

After several meters, she saw a faint light.

She hurried toward it.

The passage opened into a small underground room.

There was a chair.

A table.

A bed.

And photographs covering every wall.

Mira’s stomach tightened.

The photographs were not of her.

They were of her mother.

Hundreds of them.

Her mother entering buildings.

Her mother meeting strangers.

Her mother standing outside hospitals.

Her mother carrying a baby.

Mira stared at the photograph.

The baby was her.

But the date beneath it made no sense.

March 14, 2007.

Mira had been born in 2004.

She picked up another photograph.

Her mother was standing beside a little girl.

The girl looked exactly like Mira.

Same eyes.

Same dark hair.

Same small scar above her eyebrow.

But the girl was at least seven years old.

The date said:

October 2011.

Mira’s hands went numb.

There was another photograph beneath it.

This one showed two identical girls standing together.

One was smiling.

The other was crying.

Written on the back were four words:

Only one was Mira.

A noise came from the passage.

Mira turned.

Someone was approaching.

She grabbed the notebook from the table and stepped backward.

The passage door opened.

Her father appeared.

His face was pale.

“Where did you find that photograph?”

Mira held it up.

“Who is she?”

Daniel said nothing.

“Who is the other girl?”

Still nothing.

Mira’s voice broke.

“Who am I?”

Daniel looked at her for several seconds.

Then he whispered:

“That’s the question your mother wanted you to ask.”

Suddenly, the lights went out.

A scream came from somewhere beneath the house.

Not Mira’s.

A woman’s.

Mira recognized the voice immediately.

Her mother’s.

Daniel grabbed her arm.

“She’s here.”

Mira stared at him.

“Where?”

Daniel pointed toward a second door hidden behind the photographs.

“Under this house.”

The door opened by itself.

Beyond it was a staircase descending into complete darkness.

And from below came her mother’s voice.

“Mira…”

A pause.

Then:

“Don’t believe him.”