The Lost Legacy

4.Digging The Past

We moved carefully through the basement. Aida and Liam were already deep into exploring the shelves and boxes, their curiosity driving them to uncover more about the mysterious owner of this house.

My heart was still racing from the shock of falling into this hidden space, but there was something else—an uneasy feeling gnawing at me as we continued our search. Something about this place felt strangely familiar, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

"Hey, Caci, look at this," Aida called out, her voice tinged with surprise.

I turned to see her holding a dusty picture frame she'd found on a small table in the corner. As I stepped closer, the sight of the photograph made my breath catch in my throat. It was a picture of a man, probably in his late thirties, smiling warmly at the camera with a little girl in his arms. The girl couldn't have been more than five or six years old.

The longer I stared at the image, the more a strange, unsettling feeling washed over me. The girl's face—it was like looking at an old, forgotten version of myself. The eyes, the smile... it was all too familiar.

"Caci... that's you," Aida whispered, her voice barely audible.

I shook my head, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. "It can't be," I murmured, but deep down, I knew she was right. The girl in the photo was me.

My hands trembled as I reached out to take the frame from Aida, my mind reeling. "But... how? My father is Ambrose Neils," I whispered, my voice cracking. "He raised me. I've known him my whole life."

Liam stepped closer, his expression a mix of concern and confusion. "Caci, are you sure? You said you don't remember anything before you were seven."

I felt like the ground was slipping out from under me as memories I didn't know I had began to swirl in my mind. Flashes of moments, fragments of conversations, faces I couldn't quite place. My life before the age of seven was a blank slate, wiped clean by the dissociative amnesia that had haunted me for as long as I could remember.

But this photo—it was a piece of a past I didn't know existed. Who was the man in the picture? Was he really my father? And if he was, then who was Ambrose Neils? The man I had called "Dad" all these years—was he just a stranger who had taken me in?

My knees buckled, and I sank to the floor, clutching the photo frame as if it could anchor me to reality. My whole life flashed before my eyes, every memory, every moment suddenly cast into doubt. What was real? What was a lie?

Liam knelt beside me, his hand on my shoulder. "Caci, we'll figure this out. We're here for you."

Aida crouched down on my other side, her expression softening as she looked at me with concern. "Caci, whatever this means, we'll uncover the truth together. You're not alone."

I looked up at them, tears blurring my vision. The truth was out there, buried somewhere in this house, in the remnants of a life I didn't even know I had. And now, I had to face the terrifying possibility that everything I thought I knew about myself was a lie.

But with Aida and Liam by my side, I knew onething for sure—I wouldn't face it alone. We were going to dig up the past, nomatter how painful it might be, and find out who I really was.