Beneath the Secret, Behind the Tears

At 9:45 p.m., the butler at the Donovan estate, James, began to worry. Dr. Donovan was supposed to be resting in her room, but when he’d knock to see if she needed anything, there was no answer. He used the master key and found the room empty. Her bed was perfectly made. Her suitcase was gone.

He called Mr. Hughes, but the call went straight to voicemail. Panicked, he called Mr. Donovan at the party.

Ivan, Richard and Eleanor were gathered around a massive birthday cake, singing to a delighted Leo. When Richard’s phone rang, he answered with an annoyed sigh.

“What is it, James?”

James’s frantic voice crackled over the line. “Sir, it’s Dr. Donovan. She’s gone. Her room is empty.”

Richard’s face darkened. “What do you mean, gone? She’s probably just gone for a walk. She was feeling unwell.” He was more irritated than concerned. Her disappearance was an inconvenience, a disruption to their perfect evening.

“But sir, her luggage is gone too,” James insisted. “And she left this. She said it was very important that you receive it at 10 p.m. precisely.”

A cold dread began to seep into the festive atmosphere. “Bring it here. Now,” Richard commanded, hanging up.

Kiera, noticing their grim faces, walked over. “What’s wrong? Did the little mouse run away?” She asked with a smirk.

Before anyone could answer, James arrived, holding a simple, elegant gift box. He handed it to Ivan. All eyes were on him as he tore off the wrapping paper.

Inside, nestled on a bed of black satin, was a single photograph. It was the picture of Ivan, Kiera, Leo, and my parent, all smiling together. The secret family portrait.

The air in the room went still. The party music suddenly seemed jarring and loud. Richard stared at the photo, his face turning an ashen gray. Eleanor let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth.

Ivan’s hands were shaking as he dug deeper into the box. He found the flash drive and a small speaker. Beside them lay a handwritten card.

Eleanor reached for the speaker, her fingers trembling as she pressed the play button.

Ivan’s voice filled the silent room, warm and intimate. “I know, my love. I know it’s not fair to you. But we have to be careful. Just a little longer…. Aliana…. she’s just a means to an end. A placeholder.”

Then Kiera’s voice, sharp and cruel. “Poor, pathetic Aliana.”

The recording continued, a curated collection of their most damning conversations, their lies laid bare for everyone to hear. The plan to drug me. Their contempt for my trust. Their complete and utter betrayal.

The guests at the party begun to murmur, their curious glances turning to ones of shock and disgust.

Richard snatched the card from the box. It was a birthday card for Leo. Theodore calligraphy was exquisite, a perfect imitation of his award-winning style. He had always refused to teach me, claiming I lacked the patience. Yet here was proof I learned on my own, desperate for his approval.

He opened the card. Inside, it read:

“Happy 5th birthday, Leo. I’m sorry you have to grow up in a house built on lies. I hope one day you learn the value of honesty. It’s a lesson your parents and grandparents never did.”

And below that, in the same perfect script:

“As for the rest of you, enjoy the party. It’s my parting gift. You wanted me gone. Congratulations, you got your wish.”

Richard staggered back, the card fluttering from his hand. “She knew,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “She knew everything.”

Kiera, who had been frozen in place, finally snapped out of her shock. “Good riddance!” She spat, her face twisted with fury and a hint of triumph. “She was a miserable, clingy brat anyway. We’re better off without her. Now you don’t have to pretend anymore, Ivan!”

She looked at Ivan, expecting him to agree, to be relieved. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at the photograph, at the recording device, at the card, his face a mask of horror. My parents were looking at Kiera as if seeing her for the first time, her venomous words stripping away the last of their delusions.

“She’s right,” Richard said, his voice breaking. He looked at Kiera, his eyes filled with a dawning, terrible understanding. “We are better off without her.” He wasn’t talking about me.

Just then, the front door opened. A woman in a sharp suit stood there, her expression like granite.

It was Debi Frost.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice cutting through the tension. “I’m here on behalf of my client. It seems you’ve all received her gift. I have a few more items to deliver.”