Chapter 5: The Theater
By nine that morning, Stallone was standing across the street from the abandoned theater.
Rainwater ran down the cracked marquee.
Half the letters had fallen away.
The front doors were chained.
Harris sat inside an unmarked car twenty yards behind him.
“Wait for my team,” Harris said through the earpiece.
Stallone looked at the address Daniel had found.
It matched.
“I’ve waited twelve years without knowing I was waiting.””
“Another five minutes won’t kill you.””
“You don’t know that.””
Harris sighed.
“Then at least don’t enter alone.””
A black SUV stopped beside the curb.
Stallone tensed.
The rear door opened.
Vanessa stepped out.
He stared at her.
“What are you doing here?””
“Stopping you from making another mistake.””
“You’re the last person qualified to do that.””
Vanessa glanced at the theater.
“If Rebecca is inside, she won’t tell you everything.””
“And you will?””
“I’ll tell you enough to keep Daniel alive.””
Stallone stepped toward her.
“Stop using my son as an excuse.””
Vanessa flinched.
Good.
He wanted the words to hurt.
“You searched his room. You tried to destroy the frame. You lied when I came home.””
“I know.””
“You knew about Sophie.””
“Yes.””
“You knew about Emily.””
A longer pause.
“Yes.””
Stallone’s jaw tightened.
“And my brother?””
Vanessa looked at him.
“I knew he might be alive.””
That answer nearly broke the last thread of restraint between them.
“You watched me mourn him.””
“I was trying to survive.””
“So was I.””
Vanessa’s eyes filled, but Stallone turned away.
Harris crossed the street with two investigators.
“We found another entrance.””
They moved through an alley behind the theater.
A rusted service door stood slightly open.
Inside, the building smelled of dust, wet plaster, and old velvet.
Their footsteps echoed.
Rows of torn red seats faced a dark stage.
“Rebecca?”” Stallone called.
Nothing.
Then a light appeared backstage.
A woman stepped from behind the curtain.
She was in her sixties, silver-haired, wearing a dark coat.
Stallone recognized her immediately.
Not from memory.
From the courthouse photograph.
“Rebecca Lane?””
She nodded.
Then she saw Vanessa.
Her face changed.
“You brought her?””
“I followed him,” Vanessa said.
Rebecca backed away.
“You shouldn’t be here.””
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“You’ve been saying that about me for twelve years.””
Harris raised a hand.
“Everybody stays where they are.””
Rebecca looked at Stallone.
“You received my letter?””
“I found it hidden behind Daniel’s photograph.””
“Then someone moved it.””
“What does that mean?””
Rebecca stared at the stage.
“I never put the letter in Daniel’s frame.””
Stallone felt the room tighten around him.
“Who did?””
“Your brother.””
No one spoke.
Rebecca walked toward an old wooden trunk beneath the stage.
She removed a key from her necklace.
“He came to me twelve years ago.””
Stallone followed.
“You’re saying my brother survived.””
“I’m saying his death was staged.””
“Why?””
“Because he discovered what was happening.””
Rebecca unlocked the trunk.
Inside were hospital ledgers, photographs, cassette tapes, and sealed envelopes.
She pulled out a file.
“Your family had people around them who believed children were vulnerabilities. Custody disputes. Public scandals.
Money. Reputation. They treated human lives like problems to be managed.””
“Who are ‘they’?””
Rebecca glanced at Vanessa.
Vanessa said, “Don’t.””
Stallone turned.
“Don’t what?””
Rebecca answered.
“Don’t tell you who paid her.””
Vanessa went still.
Stallone stared at his wife.
“Paid her?””
Rebecca removed a bank statement.
“Vanessa received money for years.””
“That’s a lie.””
Rebecca handed the document to Harris.
He studied it.
“Regular transfers.””
Vanessa shook her head.
“They weren’t payments.””
“What were they?”” Stallone asked.
“Protection money.””
Rebecca laughed once.
“No, Vanessa. Protection money is what victims pay. You were receiving it.””
Vanessa’s face hardened.
“I kept Daniel safe.””
Rebecca stepped closer.
“You kept Daniel isolated.””
“I stopped them from taking him.””
“After helping them hide Sophie.””
Vanessa slapped her hand against the trunk.
“I didn’t know what they were doing at first!””
The sound echoed through the theater.
Stallone said nothing.
Vanessa looked at him.
“When we met, I was approached by a man who knew everything about you. Your schedule. Your children. Your family.””
“What man?””
“He offered me money to report changes in the house.””
“And you accepted?””
“I was broke.””
“You married me.””
“That wasn’t part of the plan.””
Rebecca shook her head.
“But afterward you kept taking the money.””
Vanessa’s voice dropped.
“Because when I tried to stop, they showed me a photograph of Daniel leaving school.””
Stallone stared at her.
For once, he believed she was afraid.
But fear did not erase what she had done.
“Where is Sophie?””
Vanessa whispered, “I don’t know.””
Rebecca opened another file.
“I do.””
Stallone stepped toward her.
“Tell me.””
Rebecca placed a photograph on the trunk.
Sophie stood outside the train station.
Beside her was a tall man wearing sunglasses.
Stallone looked closer.
Age had changed him.
Gray touched his hair.
His face was thinner.
But there was no mistaking him.
“My brother.””
Rebecca nodded.
“He found Sophie.””
“Where?””
“Six years ago.””
“And he never told me?””
“He couldn’t.””
“Why?””
Rebecca reached deeper into the trunk.
“Because Sophie wasn’t the child everyone was trying to hide.””
She produced a hospital bracelet.
The plastic had yellowed.
A faded surname remained readable.
STALLONE.
Under it:
*BABY GIRL — E.*
Stallone stared.
“Emily.””
Rebecca nodded.
“She was reported dead within minutes of birth.””
“Was she?””
“No.””
His knees nearly weakened.
“Then where is she?””
Rebecca looked directly at him.
“That is what your brother has spent twelve years trying to discover.””
Harris examined the bracelet.
“If Sophie was hidden but traceable, why erase Emily completely?””
Rebecca opened one final envelope.
“Because Emily’s birth exposed something bigger.””
A photograph slid out.
It showed Rebecca standing beside a hospital bed.
A newborn lay in a bassinet.
And beside Rebecca stood a young man.
Stallone’s brother.
Holding the baby.
On the back was a message.
*I PROMISE HE WILL NEVER KNOW UNTIL SHE IS SAFE.*
Stallone looked up.
“He?””
Rebecca’s expression changed.
“That is the question your brother came here to answer.””
A sound came from the balcony.
Everyone turned.
A man stepped into the dim light above them.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
The same face from the train-station photograph.
Stallone stopped breathing.
His brother gripped the railing.
“You want the truth?”” he called down.
Stallone stared at the man he had buried twelve years ago.
May you like
His brother’s voice broke.
“Then ask Vanessa who Emily’s real mother was.””
