Chapter 4 - The Brother Who Remembered Her
The security footage showed a dead man walking out of Blackwood House at 11:18 P.M.
Lila watched it four times before she allowed herself to breathe.
The video was grainy and colorless, captured by the east entrance camera. Sebastian Crowe appeared first, wearing the same white shirt and dark trousers he had worn upstairs.
Seven seconds later, another man stepped into view.
Older.
Thinner.
Gray-haired.
His shoulders curved slightly forward.
But the way he walked—
Lila knew it.
A slight hesitation in the left leg.
Elias had injured his knee falling from scaffolding when she was nine. He had always pretended it didn’t hurt, but cold weather made the limp worse.
The man in the video had the same limp.
“That’s him.”
Julian stood beside her in the back seat of the security vehicle.
“Facial recognition isn’t proof.”
“I don’t need facial recognition.”
“Lila—”
“That is my father.”
Julian fell silent.
On the screen, Sebastian and the man crossed the courtyard.
Neither appeared forced.
Neither looked frightened.
At the gate, Elias stopped.
He turned directly toward the camera.
Lila’s chest tightened.
Age had transformed him.
His face was narrower. His hair almost entirely gray. Deep lines crossed his forehead and cheeks.
But his eyes—
She remembered those eyes watching her paint.
Correcting her shadows.
Pretending not to cry when she gave him a birthday portrait.
“Pause it.”
Julian did.
Lila touched the screen.
Seventeen years.
She had imagined her father beneath the ground for seventeen years.
And he had just looked into a camera.
Alive.
Julian zoomed in.
“There’s something in his hand.”
A white rectangle.
“Paper?”
“Maybe.”
Grant enlarged the image.
Writing appeared across it.
Three words.
Lila read them aloud.
“DON’T FOLLOW US.”
Julian leaned back.
“That’s convenient.”
She looked at him.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means someone wants us to believe Elias left voluntarily.”
“You think the footage is fake?”
“I think tonight someone lured you to an abandoned warehouse with a seventeen-year-old recording and then tried to burn you alive.”
“They didn’t know you would come.”
“Marcus’s recording literally mentioned me.”
That silenced her.
Julian continued.
“Someone knew exactly what we would do.”
Lila stared again at Elias’s frozen face.
“Then we find Sebastian.”
Grant spoke from the front seat.
“We’re tracing his vehicle.”
“He didn’t take it,” Julian said.
“Phone?”
“Turned off.”
Lila looked at the paternity report.
Sebastian Crowe.
The letters were incomplete, but the implication was obvious.
“What if Sebastian is my father?”
Julian’s expression became uncomfortable.
“That would explain why Helena knew him.”
“It would explain more than that.”
She thought about Sebastian grabbing her wrist.
Burn anything with your name handwritten on it.
Because Helena made the same mistake.
“Maybe he wasn’t protecting your family,” Lila said.
“Maybe he was protecting me.”
Julian looked unconvinced.
“By allowing you to grow up alone?”
The question hurt because it was the same accusation she wanted to make against Elias.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone froze.
Lila answered.
“Hello?”
Breathing.
Then—
“Lila?”
Her entire body went cold.
She knew the voice.
Older.
Rougher.
But unmistakable.
“Dad?”
Julian straightened.
The voice broke.
“My little bird.”
Lila nearly dropped the phone.
No one else had ever called her that.
Not Marcus.
Not Sebastian.
Not Helena.
Only Elias.
Her father used to call her his little bird because she drew wings on everything when she was five.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You’re alive.”
Silence.
“You’re alive!”
“I’m sorry.”
Seventeen years of grief erupted at once.
“You’re sorry?”
“Lila—”
“I buried you!”
Julian looked sharply at her.
Lila’s voice cracked.
“I sat beside you while you died!”
“What you saw was arranged.”
“What does that mean?”
“I thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”
“Safe from whom?”
Elias did not answer.
“Richard Blackwood?”
A pause.
“Richard was only part of it.”
Lila’s anger faltered.
“What does that mean?”
“Listen carefully. You cannot trust Sebastian.”
Her eyes moved toward the burned laboratory report.
“Is Sebastian my biological father?”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“Who told you that?”
“We found a paternity report.”
“Destroy it.”
“Why does everyone keep telling me to destroy things?”
“Because evidence can be bait.”
Julian leaned closer.
Lila put the call on speaker.
“Elias,” Julian said.
The line went silent.
Then Elias whispered, “Julian.”
“You know me.”
“I knew you before you learned to hate your mother.”
Julian’s face changed.
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Sebastian left my house with you.”
“He didn’t leave with me.”
Lila frowned.
“We saw you together.”
“You saw what they wanted you to see.”
Julian and Lila exchanged a look.
“Who are they?” Julian asked.
Elias breathed slowly.
Then he said, “Ask Julian what happened in the winter garden.”
Julian went still.
Lila noticed immediately.
“What winter garden?”
Elias continued.
“He was nine years old. Helena brought you to the house.”
Julian’s face drained of color.
“No.”
“You remember.”
“No.”
“You held your sister.”
The painting upstairs.
Young Julian holding an infant.
“That never happened,” Julian said.
“It did.”
“I would remember.”
“You do.”
Julian’s breathing changed.
Lila stared at him.
“What is he talking about?”
Julian pressed his fingers against his temple.
“I don’t know.”
Elias spoke gently.
“You buried the memory because Richard made you afraid of it.”
“Stop.”
“He told you Helena was sick.”
“Stop.”
“He told you she tried to steal you.”
“STOP!”
The vehicle fell silent.
Julian looked shaken in a way Lila had never seen.
Elias continued more quietly.
“You were the first Blackwood who ever protected Lila.”
Lila’s throat tightened.
“What happened?”
No answer.
“Dad, what happened in the winter garden?”
The connection crackled.
Then Elias said, “Julian hid you.”
“From whom?”
“Richard.”
Julian closed his eyes.
And suddenly—
He remembered.
Not everything.
Fragments.
A glass ceiling covered in snow.
His mother crying.
A baby wrapped in a yellow blanket.
His father shouting somewhere beyond the doors.
Helena kneeling before nine-year-old Julian.
“Keep her quiet.”
Young Julian holding the infant against his chest.
A storage cabinet beneath a stone gardening table.
Footsteps approaching.
Richard’s voice.
“Where is she?”
Julian opened his eyes.
Lila was staring at him.
“You remember.”
His face was pale.
“Yes.”
“What?”
He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time.
“You were crying.”
Lila stopped breathing.
“I gave you my finger.”
His voice became distant.
“You grabbed it.”
A strange emotion crossed his face.
“You wouldn’t let go.”
Elias spoke through the phone.
“That’s why Helena trusted him.”
Lila looked at Julian.
All his arrogance seemed to disappear for a moment.
He was no longer a billionaire.
He was a frightened nine-year-old boy standing beneath a glass ceiling, hiding a baby from his father.
“What happened after that?” Julian asked.
“You told Richard you hadn’t seen the baby.”
Julian swallowed.
“And he believed me?”
“No.”
A pause.
“He punished you.”
Julian’s expression closed immediately.
Lila saw it.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s a lie.”
Julian turned away.
Elias interrupted.
“You don’t have time for this.”
“Then give us answers,” Lila said.
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“By staying dead?”
The words landed heavily.
Elias did not respond.
Lila’s eyes filled with tears.
“Did you ever look for me?”
“Every day.”
“Did you know I was homeless?”
Silence.
“Did you know I sold the painting?”
“Yes.”
Her pain became rage.
“And you did nothing?”
“I couldn’t.”
“You could have called.”
“No.”
“You just called now!”
“Because they already know you’re involved.”
“Who?”
The line crackled again.
Then Elias said something unexpected.
“Your mother left you a second painting.”
Lila froze.
“What?”
“The Silent Echo was never the important one.”
Julian leaned closer.
“What second painting?”
“I don’t know where Helena hid it.”
“But you know what it shows?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
Elias hesitated.
“A murder.”
Silence.
Lila stared at the phone.
“Whose murder?”
“Richard Blackwood’s first wife.”
Julian’s head snapped toward the speaker.
“My father was married before Helena?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Her name was Evelyn.”
Julian looked completely stunned.
“I’ve never heard that name.”
“That was the point.”
Lila asked, “Did Richard kill her?”
“I don’t know.”
“But Helena did?”
“She witnessed what happened.”
“And painted it?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“The painting contains the evidence.”
Julian frowned.
“What evidence?”
Elias’s voice dropped.
“The identity of the person who was there when Evelyn died.”
A noise sounded behind Elias.
A door.
Then footsteps.
His breathing changed.
“Dad?”
No answer.
“Dad!”
“Lila, listen to me.”
The urgency in his voice terrified her.
“Go back to Blackwood House.”
“Why?”
“The Silent Echo has already been opened.”
Her heart stopped.
“What?”
“Someone removed the original backing years ago.”
Julian stared at her.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what are we looking for?”
Elias whispered, “A key.”
“What key?”
“A small brass key sewn into the original canvas backing.”
Lila remembered something.
At sixteen, she had stretched the canvas herself.
She remembered Elias helping her attach the backing cloth.
And—
Her pulse accelerated.
There had been something inside it.
She had assumed it was part of the frame.
“Where does the key lead?”
“To Helena’s second painting.”
Another sound.
Closer.
Elias suddenly whispered, “I have to go.”
“No!”
“Lila—”
“You don’t get to disappear again.”
“I love you.”
“Then stay!”
“I’m sorry.”
“DAD!”
The call ended.
Lila immediately called back.
The number no longer existed.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Grant’s radio came alive.
“Mr. Blackwood?”
Julian answered.
“Yes?”
“We have a problem at the house.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The Grand Gallery alarm triggered.”
Julian and Lila looked at each other.
“The painting,” she whispered.
Julian told the driver, “Move.”
The vehicle accelerated.
They reached Blackwood House eighteen minutes later.
The Grand Gallery doors were open.
Two guards stood outside.
Julian pushed past them.
Then stopped.
The Silent Echo was gone.
Only the empty gold frame remained.
Lila felt physically sick.
“No.”
She ran toward the wall.
The mounting wires had been cleanly cut.
“Who entered?”
Julian demanded.
Grant checked the security tablet.
“No one.”
“That painting weighs nearly thirty kilograms.”
“I know.”
“Then it didn’t walk away.”
Lila examined the empty frame.
Something had been placed on the floor beneath it.
A small yellow blanket.
Julian saw it.
His face changed.
“The winter garden.”
Lila crouched.
On top of the blanket was a photograph.
Not old.
Recent.
It showed Elias sitting in a café.
Across from him was Sebastian Crowe.
The timestamp was from three days earlier.
Lila turned it over.
A message had been written on the back:
ONE OF THEM IS HER FATHER.
THE OTHER ONE KILLED HELENA.
Julian read it twice.
Lila looked at him.
“Which one?”
A sound came from inside the wall.
Click.
They both froze.
The empty frame began moving outward.
A hidden compartment opened behind it.
Inside was a small wooden box.
Julian removed it carefully.
The box was unlocked.
Inside lay a child’s silver bracelet.
A dried bloodstain covered one side.
Beside it was a folded document.
Lila opened the paper.
It was a birth certificate.
Her birth certificate.
But the father’s name was not Elias Thorne.
It was not Sebastian Crowe.
And it was not Richard Blackwood.
Lila stared at the name.
Her hands began to shake.
Julian looked over her shoulder.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he whispered:
“That’s impossible.”
Under FATHER, someone had typed:
MARCUS VALE.