Standing across from her was her mother.
But she wasn’t alone.
A man stepped out of the shadows—someone Maya recognized immediately.
Her father.
Alive.
Maya’s voice broke.
“You… you died.”
Her father looked away.
Her mother replied instead:
“We had to say that. You were never supposed to know what we built down here.”
The man stepped closer. His voice was low, urgent.
“There’s a file. One file that proves everything—who we really are, and what your mother did.”
Maya struggled against the chain.
“Where is it?”
Her father hesitated.
Then whispered:
“Under the house… behind the wall you were never allowed to touch.”
Suddenly, footsteps thundered upstairs.
The front door slammed open.
And a stranger’s voice shouted:
“I know she’s here. Bring me the girl.”
All three froze.
Maya’s mother whispered:
“They found us sooner than I expected.”
Her father looked at Maya for the first time in years.
“Now you choose,” he said. “Us… or the truth.”
The basement door began to open above them.
