I looked at Walter. He stilled.
"There's no Version One in the system," Derek said. "I checked the legacy migration records — the original file wasn't deleted. It was transferred."
"To whom?"
"An external custodian. Eleven years ago."
The year my parents died.
"Who was the custodian?" I asked.
Paper rustled on his end. "The record just uses initials. O.M."
Dr. Owen Marsh.
*The third name is not safe in ordinary records,* my mother had written.
"What is it?" I asked Walter, who had gone pale.
"I knew Owen Marsh," he said quietly. "He disappeared after your parents' accident. For eleven years, everyone assumed he was dead."
The doorbell rang once, sharp through the old house. Mrs. Delgado's footsteps crossed the hall. A moment later she appeared holding a small brown package, no return address, no color left in her face.
"It was on the front step," she said.
My name was written on it — *Emma Grace* — in my mother's handwriting.
