Chapter 8
Claire agreed to a DNA test.
Dad did too.
Nobody forced them.
Nobody needed to.
We all knew the question would destroy the family until it had an answer.
The result came two days later.
Dad was not Claire’s biological father.
Richard Vale was.
Claire read the report once.
Then again.
Then she folded it carefully.
Dad stood across the room.
Neither spoke.
Finally Claire asked, “Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did you suspect?”
He swallowed.
“Once.”
“And you still raised me?”
Dad looked almost offended.
“You were my daughter.”
“Were?”
“Are.”
Claire started crying.
Dad crossed the room and hugged her.
It was the first time I had seen them embrace since I was a teenager.
My mother had stolen years from them.
Maybe decades.
And now I understood Richard too.
Not excused him.
Understood him.
Mom had apparently told him Claire died shortly after birth.
She showed him a forged death certificate.
Then she ended their relationship and stayed with Dad.
Richard believed his daughter had been dead for thirty-eight years.
Until six months ago.
That was when Mom contacted him again.
She told him Claire was alive.
And promised access to her if he helped with “one family problem.”
Anna whispered, “She used her own daughter as payment.”
Yes.
That was exactly what she did.
Richard told police he never intended to hurt Anna physically.
He claimed Mom told him Anna was dangerous.
He believed the medication would only “calm her down.”
He knew documents were being forged.
He knew money was stolen.
He knew cameras were hidden.
He knew enough.
But he still did it.
Dr. Mercer confessed next.
Mom had threatened to expose years of improper prescriptions he had written for friends.
He agreed to create Anna’s false prescription.
He also admitted something that almost made me lose control.
Mom had asked for a stronger medication.
Something capable of causing confusion.
Possibly memory gaps.
Mercer refused.
She became furious.
Then she told him she would “find another way.”
“What other way?” I demanded.
Detective Ramirez didn’t know.
That scared me more than anything.
Anna remained hospitalized.
The baby was stable.
But she still had irregular contractions.
Every day he stayed inside felt like a victory.
Every night I slept in a chair beside her.
One evening, a nurse named Beth came in.
“Someone sent flowers.”
“No flowers,” I said immediately.
Beth nodded.
“That’s why I didn’t bring them.”
Anna looked at her.
“Who sent them?”
“No card.”
“Throw them away.”
Beth hesitated.
“There was something inside the arrangement.”
She held up a sealed plastic evidence bag.
Inside was a small silver baby bracelet.
Engraved with one word.
ETHAN.
Anna stared.
“We haven't told anyone that name.”
We had chosen Ethan privately.
We hadn't even told Claire.
My entire body tightened.
“How does she know?”
Beth called security.
Ramirez arrived within thirty minutes.
The florist had received the order online.
Paid using a gift card.
But someone had physically dropped off the bracelet.
Security footage showed a woman in a baseball cap.
Not Mom.
Not anyone we recognized.
“Another person?” Anna whispered.
Ramirez zoomed in.
The image was blurry.
The woman appeared around fifty.
Medium height.
Dark hair.
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Ramirez looked at me.
“Answer it.”
I did.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered, “You need to stop looking.”
“Who is this?”
“Take your wife and leave.”
“Who are you?”
“If Linda thinks she’s going to lose everything, she’ll destroy everything.”
Ramirez started tracing the call.
I kept the woman talking.
“Why are you helping her?”
“I’m not.”
“Then tell me your name.”
Silence.
“Who are you?”
The woman breathed shakily.
“Someone who made the mistake of believing her.”
Then the call ended.
The number disappeared almost immediately.
Ramirez cursed quietly.
“Internet-based calling service.”
Anna stared at the bracelet.
“Who else did your mother hurt?”
I didn't know.
The answer came from an unexpected place.
My aunt Patricia.
The same aunt who had attacked Anna online.
She arrived at the hospital the next morning.
Her face was pale.
“I need to apologize.”
I stayed between her and Anna.
“Start talking.”
Patricia looked ashamed.
“Linda called me after she got arrested the first time.”
“From jail?”
“After she bonded out.”
“What did she say?”
“That Anna attacked her.”
“We know.”
“I believed her.”
“Obviously.”
Patricia flinched.
“But then she asked me for something.”
“What?”
“My daughter’s old medical records.”
“Why?”
“She said she needed examples of postpartum depression.”
Anna slowly sat forward.
“What?”
Patricia started crying.
“My daughter had severe postpartum depression eight years ago.”
“Why would Mom need her records?”
“She wouldn't say.”
I looked at Ramirez.
Fabricating Anna’s future medical history.
That was my first thought.
Then Patricia gave us another piece.
“Linda has done this before.”
The room went silent.
“What do you mean?”
“When we were younger, our cousin Susan had a baby.”
I barely remembered Susan.
She moved away when I was a child.
Patricia continued.
“Linda became obsessed with helping.”
Anna whispered, “Helping.”
“She was always at Susan’s house. Feeding the baby. Cleaning. Telling Susan she was doing things wrong.”
“What happened?”
“Susan had a breakdown.”
My stomach tightened.
“And?”
“Her husband took the baby and left.”
“Where was Mom involved?”
Patricia looked down.
“We later found out Linda had been telling him Susan was dangerous.”
Anna’s eyes widened.
“Was Susan dangerous?”
“No.”
Patricia shook her head.
“She was exhausted.”
“Did Mom drug her?”
“I don't know.”
The detective asked, “Where is Susan now?”
“California.”
“Can we contact her?”
Patricia nodded.
Then she looked at me.
“There’s one more person you should speak to.”
“Who?”
“Our older cousin Melissa.”
“Why?”
Patricia swallowed.
“Because before Susan, Linda lived with Melissa when Melissa was pregnant.”
Anna and I exchanged a look.
“What happened?”
Patricia's voice dropped.
“Melissa lost the baby.”
Nobody moved.
“Was Mom involved?”
“I don't know.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because we never asked!”
Patricia suddenly shouted.
Then she covered her mouth.
“We never asked because Linda always had an explanation.”
May you like
Her eyes filled with tears.
“And everyone believed her.”
