Buried Names, Broken Truth

Chapter : seven:

I never thought one photo would turn my whole world upside down. But now, I couldn’t ignore the pieces coming together—my father, Liam, Scarlett... and a hidden child?

After Liam entered our home, silence thickened the air like fog.

Dad finally broke it. “She found the photo, Liam. And the letter.”

Liam didn’t blink. “Then it’s time we stop hiding.”

I sat down across from them, still gripping my phone with the picture. “Who was the child, Liam?”

He looked away.

“She’s gone now,” Dad said quickly. “That chapter ended a long time ago.”

Liam’s jaw clenched. “We don’t know that.”

I stared at them. “Tell me everything.”

Dad sighed. “There was a man who worked with us back then. Dawson. Retired now. He knew everything. If you want answers, Isla, you should speak to him.”

I grabbed my keys

Liam stood immediately. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” I said, voice firm. “I need to do this alone.”

He hesitated. Our eyes locked. For the first time, I saw fear in Liam Sinclair.

Not the kind of fear that came from danger—but the kind that came from truth.

Real, raw, painful truth.

“Just… be careful,” he said quietly.

I nodded and left.

An Hour Later – Mr. Dawson’s House

The air around Mr. Dawson’s small countryside home smelled like rain and old wood. Ivy crawled up the side of the house, and wind whistled through the trees. It looked like a place people came to forget the world.

He was in the garden when I arrived—white-haired, hunched, but sharp-eyed.

“Isla Thompson,” he said before I even introduced myself. “I was wondering when you’d come knocking.

I frowned. “You know who I am?”

“Course I do. You’re Ron’s daughter. You’ve got your mother’s mouth and your father’s stubbornness.” He wiped his hands on a cloth. “Come in. You’ve got questions.”

Inside, the living room was filled with old photos, dusty books, and a fire that crackled in the hearth.

“You’re here about Scarlett Vale,” he said, motioning for me to sit.

I nodded. “And the child. And Liam.”

He laughed bitterly. “That triangle burned everyone it touched.”

He pulled out a faded brown folder from a drawer and handed it to me.

Inside were newspaper clippings, photos, and something that made my breath stop—

A birth certificate.

Mother’s name: Scarlett Vale.

Father’s name: Ronald Thompson.

Child’s name: Isla Vale Thompson.

I stared at him in silence.

“This isn’t possible,” I whispered. “My mother’s name was Caroline. She died when I was five.”

Mr. Dawson looked away. “That’s what your father wanted you to believe. Caroline raised you. But Scarlett… Scarlett gave birth to you.”

The world tilted beneath me.

“No,” I said again, shaking my head. “You’re wrong.”

“She left you with your father after she faked her death. She knew too many enemies were coming after her. She made him promise to keep you hidden… and raise you as if you weren’t hers. He told everyone you were his and Caroline’s. But it was all a cover.”

I couldn’t breathe.

Scarlett Vale… the woman who almost destroyed Liam, the one who haunted my father’s memories...

Was my mother?

My hands shook as I clutched the folder. “Why… why did she leave me?”

“She thought she was protecting you. Scarlett was many things—ruthless, cold, ambitious—but she loved you. In her own twisted way.”

“And Liam?” I asked, voice barely there

“Liam never knew you were her daughter. Not until much later. Your father made him swear not to get close to you. He said the past would ruin you both.”

I stood slowly. My legs felt numb.

I had come here to learn the truth.

But I didn’t expect me to be the secret everyone had been protecting.

Later That Night – Back at Home

I walked into the house like a ghost. Liam was still waiting in the study.

He stood when he saw me. “What did Dawson say?”

I tossed the folder on the table. “That I’m Scarlett Vale’s daughter.”

He stared at me, speechless.

“Did you know?” I asked.

He swallowed. “Not at first. Not until a year ago. Your father begged me to stay away. He said the truth would break you.”

“It did,” I whispered.

Silence. Then Liam took a slow step forward. “I don’t care who your mother was, Isla. You’re you. And nothing changes that.”

I looked up at him—torn between fury and heartbreak.

“But everything changes for me,” I said. “Because now I know the blood that runs through me… is hers.”

He reached for me, but I stepped back.

“I need space,” I said.

His hand fell to his side. “I’ll wait. As long as you need.”

I turned and walked away, tears stinging my eyes.

Because the man I’d spent years loving…

Was the one man my mother never wanted me to love.