By eight the next morning, the lobby of the Aranda Grand Hotel looked less like a hotel than a guarded embassy.<\/p>\n
Men in dark suits stood beside marble columns pretending to study their phones. Two uniformed security officers watched the revolving doors. Another man near the elevators touched the wire behind his ear whenever someone entered.<\/p>\n
Miguel had warned me not to bring the original documents.<\/p>\n
I listened.<\/p>\n
The briefcase in my hand contained copies of the settlement, photographs, Mom\u2019s birth certificate, the trust statement, and the picture of Isabella sitting between my parents.<\/p>\n
The originals were in three separate places.<\/p>\n
Sofia had one sealed packet.<\/p>\n
Miguel had another.<\/p>\n
A third had been delivered overnight to an attorney in Dallas whose name had never appeared in Aranda records.<\/p>\n
If Arthur took the briefcase, he would gain paper.<\/p>\n
Not silence.<\/p>\n
Miguel waited in a van two blocks away with two reporters and a camera operator.<\/p>\n
Sofia had wanted to come inside.<\/p>\n
I refused.<\/p>\n
She called me a hypocrite.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou spent all night telling me nobody should face these people alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re walking into the building alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s different.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is exactly the same.\u201d<\/p>\n
I had no good answer.<\/p>\n
Before hanging up, she said, \u201cIf you stop responding for five minutes, I\u2019m sending Miguel in.\u201d<\/p>\n
The elevator doors opened on the twenty-third floor.<\/p>\n
A woman in a gray suit waited outside.<\/p>\n
\u201cMs. Lopez?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMr. Aranda is expecting you.\u201d<\/p>\n
She led me down a hallway lined with black-and-white photographs of hotels, hospitals, and skyscrapers carrying the Aranda name.<\/p>\n
I wondered how many people had been pushed aside to build them.<\/p>\n
At the end of the corridor, she opened double doors.<\/p>\n
Arthur Aranda stood beside a window overlooking downtown Austin.<\/p>\n
He was taller than I expected.<\/p>\n
Late sixties, silver hair, narrow face, perfectly fitted charcoal suit.<\/p>\n
The charm visible in newspaper photographs was still there, but in person it looked practiced.<\/p>\n
A tool he had polished for decades.<\/p>\n
\u201cElena.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said my name warmly.<\/p>\n
As if we were family meeting after a long absence.<\/p>\n
I remained near the door.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere\u2019s Harold?\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s expression barely changed.<\/p>\n
\u201cI heard about the fire.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou mentioned it before the news alert.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes settled on me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou seem determined to misunderstand everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s convenient.\u201d<\/p>\n
He gestured toward a table.<\/p>\n
\u201cCoffee?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother preferred tea.\u201d<\/p>\n
My grip tightened around the briefcase.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t get to talk about her like you knew her.\u201d<\/p>\n
A flicker of annoyance crossed his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cI knew Mariana long before you were born.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou mean before you helped erase her.\u201d<\/p>\n
He exhaled through his nose.<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease sit.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll stand.\u201d<\/p>\n
He studied me for a moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have Daniel\u2019s temperament.\u201d<\/p>\n
The mention of Dad hit harder than I expected.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUnfortunately.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stepped toward him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened to my father?\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur did not answer.<\/p>\n
Instead, he looked at the briefcase.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou brought the papers.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCopies.\u201d<\/p>\n
That stopped him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are the originals?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSafe.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWith whom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPeople who don\u2019t work for your family.\u201d<\/p>\n
His polite expression disappeared.<\/p>\n
\u201cElena, you have no idea how many people claim independence until consequences arrive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re threatening them too?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m explaining the world.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. You\u2019re explaining yours.\u201d<\/p>\n
Before he could answer, the doors opened behind me.<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
And forgot how to breathe.<\/p>\n
Isabel Aranda entered wearing the pale suit I had seen on television.<\/p>\n
Up close, the resemblance to Mom was impossible to dismiss.<\/p>\n
Not identical.<\/p>\n
Isabel was taller. Her face was narrower.<\/p>\n
But the eyes were Mom\u2019s.<\/p>\n
So was the way she pressed her lips together before speaking.<\/p>\n
\u201cUncle Arthur, the board is waiting.\u201d<\/p>\n
Uncle.<\/p>\n
She called him uncle.<\/p>\n
For a second I could not understand it.<\/p>\n
Harold had told me she believed Arthur was her father.<\/p>\n
Apparently that detail had changed\u2014or Harold had been working from old information.<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s posture stiffened.<\/p>\n
\u201cIsabel, give us ten minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her gaze moved to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is this?\u201d<\/p>\n
I heard my own heartbeat.<\/p>\n
Arthur stepped between us slightly.<\/p>\n
\u201cAn estate matter.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel looked at the briefcase.<\/p>\n
Then at my face.<\/p>\n
Her expression changed.<\/p>\n
Not recognition.<\/p>\n
Something more instinctive.<\/p>\n
\u201cHave we met?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
She continued staring.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou look familiar.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur spoke sharply.<\/p>\n
\u201cIsabel.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned toward him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe board.\u201d<\/p>\n
The authority in his voice would have sent most people away.<\/p>\n
Instead, she frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re the one who asked me to come up here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s jaw tightened.<\/p>\n
Interesting.<\/p>\n
He had arranged for her to be nearby.<\/p>\n
Maybe as leverage.<\/p>\n
Maybe because he thought I would not dare speak.<\/p>\n
I reached into the briefcase.<\/p>\n
Arthur moved instantly.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel looked between us.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is going on?\u201d<\/p>\n
I took out the photograph.<\/p>\n
The one of Mom, Dad, and the little girl.<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s face went pale.<\/p>\n
\u201cElena.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel heard the warning in his voice.<\/p>\n
She stepped toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
I held the photograph out.<\/p>\n
Arthur moved to intercept it.<\/p>\n
Isabel snatched it first.<\/p>\n
For several seconds, she simply stared.<\/p>\n
Her brow furrowed.<\/p>\n
Then she looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere did you get this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt belonged to my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is the child?\u201d<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room went silent.<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s hand struck the table.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is enough.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel ignored him.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho are these people?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy parents.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her eyes moved back to the photograph.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat man isn\u2019t\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
She stopped.<\/p>\n
I could see her trying to fit the image into something she already knew.<\/p>\n
\u201cHis name was Daniel Lopez.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her face drained.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know the name.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve heard it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur stepped toward her.<\/p>\n
\u201cIsabel, this woman is grieving. She has been manipulated by a senile attorney.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cHarold survived?\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur did not answer.<\/p>\n
Isabel turned sharply.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat attorney?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHarold Benson.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her reaction was immediate.<\/p>\n
She knew that name too.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy is Harold involved?\u201d<\/p>\n
I reached into the briefcase again and removed Mom\u2019s birth certificate.<\/p>\n
Arthur grabbed my wrist.<\/p>\n
Hard.<\/p>\n
\u201cStop.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at his hand.<\/p>\n
Then at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cTake your hand off me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel\u2019s voice cut through the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cArthur.\u201d<\/p>\n
Not uncle this time.<\/p>\n
Arthur released me.<\/p>\n
A faint red mark remained around my wrist.<\/p>\n
Isabel saw it.<\/p>\n
Something changed in her face.<\/p>\n
I handed her the certificate.<\/p>\n
She read the name.<\/p>\n
Mariana Aranda del Valle.<\/p>\n
Then the date.<\/p>\n
Then the parents.<\/p>\n
Her lips parted.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was my aunt.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother.\u201d<\/p>\n
She shook her head immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother was Celeste.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCeleste raised you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t know anything about my family.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know my mother spent thirty-eight years keeping photographs of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur reached for the paper.<\/p>\n
Isabel pulled it away from him.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
The single word carried more force than anything I had said.<\/p>\n
He stopped.<\/p>\n
I opened the briefcase fully.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a settlement from 1998. Trust records. Photographs. Medical records. Harold has more.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel looked at Arthur.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat settlement?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFabricated.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why are you trying to take it?\u201d<\/p>\n
His silence lasted too long.<\/p>\n
Isabel turned back to me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow old was I in this picture?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout three.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stared at Mom.<\/p>\n
I saw something behind her eyes.<\/p>\n
Memory.<\/p>\n
Not certainty.<\/p>\n
A fragment.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid she sing?\u201d<\/p>\n
The question caught me off guard.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOld Spanish songs. Mostly when she cooked.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel\u2019s face changed.<\/p>\n
She whispered, \u201cThere was a song.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur walked to the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cMemory is unreliable.\u201d<\/p>\n
She ignored him.<\/p>\n
\u201cA woman used to sing to me.\u201d<\/p>\n
My throat tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat song?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t remember the words.\u201d<\/p>\n
She touched the photograph with one finger.<\/p>\n
\u201cI remember hiding under a table. She would sit on the floor so I could see her.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mom used to do that with me.<\/p>\n
Whenever I was frightened, she lowered herself to my height instead of making me look up.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe smelled like oranges,\u201d Isabel said.<\/p>\n
I closed my eyes.<\/p>\n
Mom rubbed orange peel on her wrists instead of buying perfume.<\/p>\n
When I opened them, Isabel was staring at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow would you know that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe did it her whole life.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cEnough.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel\u2019s voice shook now.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me she\u2019s lying.\u201d<\/p>\n
He said nothing.<\/p>\n
\u201cArthur.\u201d<\/p>\n
His silence was the first confession.<\/p>\n
Isabel stepped backward.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I reached for her.<\/p>\n
She lifted a hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t touch me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stopped.<\/p>\n
Her breathing became shallow.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou walked in here and told me the people who raised me stole me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m telling you what my mother documented.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother is dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo is mine.\u201d<\/p>\n
She looked at the photograph again.<\/p>\n
The anger in her face cracked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t understand.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur moved toward her.<\/p>\n
\u201cIsabel, we can discuss this privately.\u201d<\/p>\n
She recoiled from him.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
He froze.<\/p>\n
\u201cKnow what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat Mariana was my mother.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s answer came carefully.<\/p>\n
\u201cFamilies are complicated.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel let out a small laugh.<\/p>\n
There was no humor in it.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat isn\u2019t an answer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was unstable.\u201d<\/p>\n
I lunged verbally before I could stop myself.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe was terrified of you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s head snapped toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou weren\u2019t there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. But Harold was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHarold Benson profited from keeping her paranoid.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel studied Arthur.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said Harold was a traitor.\u201d<\/p>\n
His eyes flicked toward her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy twenty-first birthday.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s posture changed almost imperceptibly.<\/p>\n
She continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cI found his name in Grandfather\u2019s files. You told me never to contact him.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt the room shift.<\/p>\n
Arthur had been controlling what Isabel knew for years.<\/p>\n
Maybe all her life.<\/p>\n
She looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere is Harold?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn the hospital.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHis office burned after he helped me.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her gaze moved slowly to Arthur.<\/p>\n
He stiffened.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat has nothing to do with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen how did you know about the fire before the news reported it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s face hardened.<\/p>\n
I hadn\u2019t realized Isabel had heard that part.<\/p>\n
Neither had he.<\/p>\n
She dropped the photograph onto the table as if it had burned her.<\/p>\n
The ballroom announcement music began faintly below us.<\/p>\n
Her ceremony.<\/p>\n
Her future.<\/p>\n
The Aranda legacy waiting downstairs.<\/p>\n
Arthur looked at his watch.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have an obligation.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cTo what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe board. The foundation. Your grandfather.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy grandfather.\u201d<\/p>\n
The phrase tasted different in her mouth now.<\/p>\n
Arthur\u2019s phone rang.<\/p>\n
He ignored it.<\/p>\n
Isabel gathered the birth certificate and photograph.<\/p>\n
He reached for them.<\/p>\n
She stepped away.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m keeping these.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey belong to the estate.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey concern me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIsabel.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice steadied.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have ten minutes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo decide whether you\u2019re going downstairs with me and telling the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur actually smiled.<\/p>\n
It was cold.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think a decades-old family dispute should be announced in front of donors and press?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf it\u2019s false, tell me why.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt is not that simple.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen make it simple.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked at her for a long moment.<\/p>\n
Then at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cElena has come here for money.\u201d<\/p>\n
My anger disappeared beneath something almost like pity.<\/p>\n
That was his best weapon.<\/p>\n
Isabel looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that true?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou found an eighteen-million-dollar trust.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt belonged to Mom. I haven\u2019t touched it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur scoffed.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe will.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Isabel.<\/p>\n
\u201cI came because my mother died whispering your name.\u201d<\/p>\n
That silenced both of them.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t ask me to find the money. She asked me to find the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
Isabel pressed her lips together.<\/p>\n
Mom\u2019s gesture again.<\/p>\n
Then she walked toward the doors.<\/p>\n
Arthur followed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you going?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo the ballroom.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIsabel.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can come with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
His shoulders relaxed slightly.<\/p>\n
Then she added, \u201cBut you don\u2019t get to tell me what to say.\u201d<\/p>\n
The ballroom was already full when the doors opened.<\/p>\n
Reporters stood behind velvet ropes.<\/p>\n
Board members occupied the front tables.<\/p>\n
A string quartet stopped playing as Isabel entered.<\/p>\n
Arthur walked several paces behind her.<\/p>\n
I stayed near the wall.<\/p>\n
Miguel\u2019s reporters were already there.<\/p>\n
He had gotten them credentials.<\/p>\n
Clever man.<\/p>\n
Isabel reached the podium.<\/p>\n
Applause rose around the room.<\/p>\n
She waited for it to end.<\/p>\n
Arthur took a seat beside an elderly woman I did not recognize.<\/p>\n
At the center table sat a wheelchair.<\/p>\n
And in it was Eduardo Aranda del Valle.<\/p>\n
My grandfather.<\/p>\n
Ninety-three.<\/p>\n
Thin.<\/p>\n
White-haired.<\/p>\n
But unmistakably alert.<\/p>\n
His eyes passed over Isabel.<\/p>\n
Then they found me.<\/p>\n
The old man went completely still.<\/p>\n
I knew before anyone said a word.<\/p>\n
He recognized my face.<\/p>\n
Isabel adjusted the microphone.<\/p>\n
The prepared speech sat in front of her.<\/p>\n
She did not look at it.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you for coming.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her voice filled the ballroom.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was supposed to speak today about legacy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur lowered his head.<\/p>\n
Eduardo continued staring at me.<\/p>\n
Isabel held up the photograph.<\/p>\n
\u201cI discovered this morning that I may not know whose legacy I have been protecting.\u201d<\/p>\n
Whispers swept through the room.<\/p>\n
Arthur stood.<\/p>\n
\u201cIsabel.\u201d<\/p>\n
She ignored him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have been told that the woman I knew as my aunt Mariana may actually have been my biological mother.\u201d<\/p>\n
Gasps.<\/p>\n
Cameras lifted.<\/p>\n
Board members turned toward Arthur.<\/p>\n
Eduardo\u2019s hand tightened around the arm of his wheelchair.<\/p>\n
Isabel looked directly at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cGrandfather.\u201d<\/p>\n
The old man\u2019s face showed no surprise.<\/p>\n
That was worse than denial.<\/p>\n
She asked the question into the microphone.<\/p>\n
\u201cWas Mariana my mother?\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur stepped toward the stage.<\/p>\n
\u201cEnd this.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eduardo lifted one hand.<\/p>\n
Arthur stopped.<\/p>\n
The ballroom became silent.<\/p>\n
My grandfather looked at Isabel.<\/p>\n
Then, slowly, he looked at me.<\/p>\n
His voice was rough but clear.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Everything changed with one word.<\/p>\n
Isabel gripped the podium.<\/p>\n
Arthur closed his eyes.<\/p>\n
Reporters began shouting questions.<\/p>\n
But Eduardo was not finished.<\/p>\n
He pointed at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are Elena.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was not a question.<\/p>\n
My skin went cold.<\/p>\n
He knew who I was.<\/p>\n
He had always known.<\/p>\n
Before I could respond, Eduardo said something that turned the entire room quiet again.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father should have taken you farther away.\u201d<\/p>\n
By eight the next morning, the lobby of the Aranda Grand Hotel looked less like a hotel than a guarded embassy. Men in dark suits stood beside marble columns pretending … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2871,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2876","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-chapter-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2876","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2876"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2876\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2894,"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2876\/revisions\/2894"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/2871"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2876"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2876"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thechapterstory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2876"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}