Chapter 5
My mother had been dead for twenty-six years.
That was what I had been told.
I was four when she supposedly died in a car accident.
I remembered almost nothing about her.
A perfume.
A soft voice.
A silver bracelet.
That was all.
So when I returned home and saw the woman standing on my porch, anger came before curiosity.
“Who are you?”
She turned.
She was in her early sixties.
Gray streaked through dark hair.
Her eyes filled with tears when she saw me.
“Oh, Emily.”
“Don’t say my name like you know me.”
“I do know you.”
Aaron stepped beside me.
The woman looked at him and covered her mouth.
“My babies.”
Aaron stiffened.
“No.”
The woman reached toward us.
We both stepped back.
Detective Martinez positioned himself between us.
“Identification.”
She slowly handed him a driver’s license.
Margaret Bennett.
My mother’s name.
I stared at it.
“This proves nothing.”
“No,” she said. “It doesn’t.”
She opened her purse carefully.
Martinez watched every movement.
She removed an old photograph.
My father stood in front of our childhood home.
Beside him was this woman.
She held a little girl.
Me.
The woman turned the photo over.
In my father’s handwriting were the words:
Margaret, Emily, Aaron — 2002.
Aaron stared at me.
I couldn’t breathe.
“You died in 2000,” I whispered.
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
“Dad told us you died.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
“From what?”
She looked toward Lily, who was in Aaron’s arms.
“From the same people trying to take your daughter.”
I nearly laughed from disbelief.
“You expect me to believe Dad pretended you were dead for twenty-six years?”
“He didn’t want to.”
“Then explain.”
Margaret sat down on the porch.
Her hands trembled.
“Your father and Thomas Mercer built a company together. Thomas started stealing from it. Not small amounts. Millions.”
“Ryan’s father.”
“Yes.”
“When Charles discovered it, he threatened to report him.”
“What happened?”
“Thomas threatened you.”
My anger disappeared.
Margaret continued.
“You were four. Aaron was two. Thomas told your father that children could disappear very easily.”
Aaron cursed under his breath.
“Dad should’ve gone to police.”
“He tried.”
“And?”
“Rebecca Cole was his attorney.”
Everything returned to Rebecca.
“She warned Thomas,” I said.
Margaret nodded.
“Rebecca had been helping him hide money.”
“Then why didn’t Dad fire her?”
“He did. But by then, she knew everything.”
“So you disappeared?”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“Charles arranged a false death record and sent me away with evidence.”
“You left us.”
The words came out colder than I intended.
Margaret flinched.
“I wanted to take you.”
“But you didn’t.”
“Your father believed two missing children would create questions. One dead wife was easier to explain.”
I stared at her.
“That is insane.”
“Yes.”
“You let your children believe you were dead.”
“Yes.”
“For twenty-six years.”
She started crying.
“I watched you from far away.”
“No.”
“Emily—”
“No.”
I stepped backward.
“You do not get to make that romantic.”
“I’m not.”
“You missed birthdays. Graduations. My wedding.”
“I know.”
“You let me marry Thomas Mercer’s son.”
Her face changed.
“What?”
She looked genuinely horrified.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Dad knew Ryan.”
Margaret stood.
“Charles would never have allowed that.”
“He came to my wedding.”
“Then he didn’t know who Ryan really was.”
“How could he not?”
“Because Mercer wasn’t Ryan’s original last name.”
I stared at her.
Margaret reached inside her bag again.
This time she removed a birth certificate.
Ryan’s original name was Ryan Cole.
Mother: Diane Cole.
Father: Unknown.
“Cole?” Aaron said.
Margaret nodded.
“Diane is Rebecca’s older sister.”
The world tilted.
Ryan had never told me.
Diane had never told me.
Rebecca had represented my father while secretly being related to the family fighting him.
“This whole thing was planned,” I whispered.
“For years,” Margaret said.
Martinez’s phone rang.
He walked away.
When he returned, his expression was grim.
“We found Rebecca.”
“Where?”
“Airport parking structure.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Relief lasted one second.
“But she wasn’t alone.”
“Who was with her?”
Martinez looked at Margaret.
“Thomas Mercer.”
Margaret went completely pale.
I frowned.
“Thomas is dead.”
She shook her head slowly.
“No.”
May you like
Then she whispered the truth.
“Thomas Mercer never died.”
