CHAPTER 4 MELANIE’S OFFER
The police searched the neighborhood for three hours.
Melanie was gone.
A traffic camera later captured a black SUV leaving Blue Ash Terrace seven minutes after officers entered the house. The license plate had been stolen from a car two counties away.
“She had help,” Detective Brooks said.
We returned to the safe house after dark.
Wyatt had barely spoken since finding the letter.
Even after the notarized statement showed that Daniel Campbell was not my biological father, something remained broken between us.
Not love.
Certainty.
We had entered the blue house believing we knew who we were. We left understanding that both our families had been built around secrets.
“Did your father ever mention helping a pregnant woman?” I asked.
Wyatt stood at the kitchen window.
“No.”
“What was he like?”
“Quiet. Protective. He fixed things instead of talking about them.”
“Did Brenda know him?”
“I don’t know.”
I thought about my mother following Wyatt’s life after he sold his company.
At first, she had acted proud.
Then she became obsessed.
She asked about his father, his childhood, his inheritance, and whether Daniel had left papers behind.
I had assumed she was interested because Wyatt was wealthy.
Now every question felt different.
“Your father may have known exactly what Brenda did,” I said.
Wyatt nodded slowly.
“And if he did, maybe his accident wasn’t an accident.”
The thought hung in the room.
At 11:40 that night, a security guard knocked on the back door.
“A package was left at the gate.”
There was no delivery vehicle on camera.
The package contained a disposable phone.
It rang as soon as Wyatt placed it on the table.
I answered on speaker.
Melanie’s voice filled the kitchen.
“You look terrible, Sadie.”
Wyatt’s jaw tightened.
“Where are you?”
“Hello to you too.”
Detective Brooks had instructed us to keep any contact going long enough to trace. I gestured for Wyatt not to speak.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“What I’ve always wanted. For you to stop taking things that belong to me.”
“You mean Wyatt?”
“I mean everything.”
“You knew about Evelyn.”
A pause.
“I knew enough.”
“Did you know Brenda wasn’t my mother?”
“She raised you. That should have been enough.”
“She abused me.”
“You were difficult.”
“She watched Gregory break my face.”
Melanie sighed as though I were exhausting her.
“Dad lost his temper.”
“He used a brick.”
“And you survived.”
The coldness in her voice reminded me of every childhood moment when she had hurt me and smiled afterward.
“Where is Arthur?”
“Safe.”
“Let me speak to him.”
“No.”
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
I could not tell whether she was lying.
“What do you want in exchange for him?”
“All claims to Bell Heritage Holdings.”
I laughed once, stunned by her certainty.
“I don’t even know whether I have a claim.”
“You do.”
There it was.
Confirmation.
Melanie continued.
“Arthur changed the trust years ago. Evelyn’s child receives her half when Arthur dies or becomes incapacitated. That means you.”
“And you get nothing?”
“Brenda’s share passes to me.”
“Then why do you need mine?”
“Because half is not enough.”
Wyatt leaned toward the phone.
“You nearly killed her for money.”
Melanie’s voice sharpened.
“You don’t know what she did to us.”
“What did I do?”
“You existed.”
The simple hatred in those two words silenced me.
Melanie went on.
“Mom spent her whole life being punished because Evelyn was prettier, kinder, and more loved. Grandpa chose Evelyn for everything. Then Evelyn died, and even in death, she won. She left you behind like a little ghost everyone had to protect.”
“Arthur protected me by letting Brenda raise me?”
“Grandpa tried to take you. Mom threatened to expose something that would send him to prison.”
“What?”
“You’ll find out after you sign.”
A message appeared on the disposable phone.
It contained an address, a time, and a document.
“Print the transfer,” Melanie said. “Sign it tomorrow at midnight. Come alone.”
“Where?”
“You have the address.”
“I won’t sign anything until I see Arthur.”
“You’ll see him.”
“If he is hurt—”
“You’re in no position to make threats.”
The line disconnected.
Detective Brooks, listening through Wyatt’s phone, spoke immediately.
“We traced part of the route. She’s bouncing the call, but we narrowed the origin to the west side.”
The address Melanie sent belonged to an abandoned drive-in theater outside Columbus.
“It’s a trap,” Wyatt said.
“Obviously,” Detective Brooks replied. “Which is why Sadie will not be there.”
“I’m going,” I said.
They both objected.
I waited until they stopped.
“She won’t bring Arthur if I’m not there.”
“We can use an undercover officer.”
“She’ll know.”
“Sadie, you’re recovering from reconstructive surgery.”
“And Arthur is an old man being held by the people who did this to me.”
Detective Brooks stared at me.
“I cannot order you to participate.”
“You don’t have to. Just help me survive it.”
The plan was built in less than twelve hours.
I wore a wire beneath a loose sweater. The transfer document was fake. Officers hid inside abandoned concession buildings and behind the collapsed movie screen. Wyatt waited in an unmarked vehicle more than a mile away, furious that Detective Brooks refused to let him come closer.
At 11:58 p.m., I walked alone across the cracked asphalt.
Rows of rusted speaker posts rose from the weeds.
A projector building stood dark at the center of the property.
“Melanie?” I called.
A floodlight snapped on.
I shielded my right eye.
Melanie stepped from behind an old ticket booth.
She wore black pants, boots, and a long coat. My stolen photographs were tucked beneath one arm.
Two men stood behind her.
One was my family’s lawyer, Charles Whitmore.
The lawyer Arthur had warned me not to trust.
The other was Gregory.
My father had been released on bond that afternoon.
He smiled when he saw the bandages.
“You should have listened the first time.”
“Where’s Arthur?”
Charles Whitmore held out his hand.
“The document.”
“Arthur first.”
Melanie nodded toward the projector building.
The door opened.
Arthur stumbled into the light.
His hands were tied. Bruises covered his face. A man I did not recognize held a gun against his back.
Arthur looked at me and began crying.
“Sadie.”
Every instinct told me to run toward him.
I forced myself to stand still.
“Let him go.”
“Sign,” Melanie said.
I took out the papers.
“What’s in the photographs you stole?”
Her expression tightened.
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“It concerns me enough that you broke into a house surrounded by police.”
Gregory stepped closer.
“Stop wasting time.”
I looked at him.
“Did you kill Evelyn?”
He froze.
It lasted less than a second, but I saw it.
Melanie did too.
“Dad,” she warned.
“You forged Arthur’s signature,” I continued. “You kidnapped him. You drugged him.”
Gregory smiled again.
“You always were imaginative.”
Arthur raised his head.
“He killed her.”
Melanie spun toward him.
“Shut up.”
Arthur’s voice grew louder.
“Gregory changed her medication after she gave birth. Brenda held Evelyn down when she tried to call a nurse.”
My stomach turned.
“You watched her die?”
Brenda stepped from the projector building.
She had been hiding in the darkness.
Her face was calm.
“Evelyn was weak,” she said. “She was always weak.”
My body went cold.
Police were hearing every word through the wire.
I only needed them to keep talking.
“You took me after she died.”
“I saved you,” Brenda replied.
“You hated me.”
“I fed you. I clothed you. I gave you a name.”
“My name was already Sadie.”
Something cracked in her expression.
“That was her final insult.”
Melanie moved toward me.
“Sign the papers.”
I held them against my chest.
“Why did you want Wyatt?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You know why.”
“No. Tell me.”
“Because Daniel Campbell left evidence,” Arthur said.
Melanie slapped him.
The man with the gun shoved Arthur to his knees.
“What evidence?” I asked.
Brenda glared at Arthur.
“Daniel stole documents from Gregory. He planned to expose us.”
“Then his car went off a bridge,” I said.
No one answered.
I understood.
“Oh my God.”
Wyatt’s father had not died in an accident.
Gregory pointed toward the papers.
“Sign them, or Arthur dies.”
I looked at the three people who had called themselves my family.
Then I let the documents fall to the ground.
“No.”
Gregory nodded toward the gunman.
A shot exploded across the drive-in.
Arthur collapsed.
I screamed.
Floodlights ignited from every direction.
“Police! Drop the weapon!”
Officers poured from the darkness.
The gunman fired again.
Melanie grabbed the stolen photographs and ran.
Gregory tackled me before I could move.
My injured face struck the pavement.
Pain blinded me.
His hand closed around my throat.
“You should have died with your mother,” he hissed.
Then Wyatt appeared from nowhere.
He hit Gregory with enough force to throw him off me.
Police dragged them apart.
Someone shouted for an ambulance.
I crawled toward Arthur.
Blood spread across his shirt.
He was still breathing.
He gripped my wrist.
“The gunman missed my heart,” he whispered.
“Don’t talk.”
“You need to know…”
“Save your strength.”
“Thomas Reed…”
His eyes rolled toward the darkness where Melanie had escaped.
“Thomas is alive.”
Then Arthur lost consciousness.
Behind us, Charles Whitmore was placed in handcuffs.
Brenda stood silently while officers read her rights.
Gregory cursed my name.
May you like
But Melanie had vanished into the night with the photographs.
And somewhere in the city, the father I had never known might still be alive.
