Chapter 7
I drove to Denton with both hands locked around the steering wheel.
Vanessa sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke for the first twenty minutes.
I could not process another lie.
My mother wasn’t my biological mother.
That sentence refused to fit inside my head.
Margaret Harrison had held me when I was sick.
Packed my lunches.
Argued with me about curfews.
Helped me move into my college dorm.
Cried when I got engaged.
Died while I held her hand.
She was my mother.
Nothing could erase that.
But somebody else had given birth to me.
And my father had hidden it for thirty-four years.
Vanessa finally said, “Do you want me to drive?”
“No.”
“You’re going eighty-five.”
I slowed down.
“Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize to me.”
“I almost hit another car.”
“That’s different.”
Despite everything, I laughed once.
It felt wrong.
Then I started crying.
Not loudly.
Just tears I couldn’t stop.
Vanessa looked out the window.
She gave me privacy without pretending not to notice.
After a few minutes, I wiped my face.
“Did Ryan ever mention this?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did he know?”
“I don’t know.”
“He knew before today.”
“Yes.”
“That means Dad told him.”
“Or he found documents.”
I looked at the flash drives in the center console.
“Everything is in those stupid drives.”
“Maybe.”
“Can we open them?”
“My laptop is at the apartment.”
“Which apartment?”
She hesitated.
“Ryan’s.”
I looked at her.
“Right.”
She stared straight ahead.
“Emily.”
“Don’t.”
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re right.”
Silence again.
Then Vanessa said, “I loved him.”
I almost told her I didn’t care.
But something stopped me.
She continued.
“That doesn’t excuse what I did to you.”
“No.”
“I knew you existed.”
“Yes.”
“I let myself believe every cruel thing he told me about you because it made what I was doing easier.”
I glanced at her.
She was crying now.
“I wanted to believe you were cold.”
I gripped the wheel.
“He told you that?”
“He said you cared more about your father’s money than your marriage.”
I almost laughed.
“I wanted Ryan to leave Harrison Development two years ago.”
“He told me you forced him to stay.”
“I begged him to leave.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“He said you threatened to cut him off financially.”
“We had separate money.”
“I know that now.”
“What else did he say?”
“That you didn’t want children.”
My chest tightened.
Vanessa noticed.
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at the highway.
Ryan and I had tried for a baby.
For almost two years.
Then I had two miscarriages.
After the second one, Ryan told me maybe our marriage wasn’t meant to have children.
I remembered how cold he had become.
How often he worked late.
The affair probably had already started.
“He knew.”
My voice came out thin.
“What?”
“He knew how badly I wanted children.”
Vanessa covered her mouth.
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head.
“Stop saying that.”
She nodded.
We reached Denton just before sunset.
Claire had sent one message with an address.
A small house near the edge of town.
No name.
No instructions.
Just an address.
I parked across the street.
The house looked ordinary.
Small porch.
Old oak tree.
Blue shutters.
I stared at it.
“What if Ryan lied?”
Vanessa asked.
“About what?”
“Your birth.”
I looked at the house.
“My father didn’t deny it.”
“That doesn’t mean Ryan gave the full story.”
“He never gives the full story.”
We crossed the street.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
A curtain moved.
Then the door opened two inches.
A woman in her early sixties looked through the gap.
Her hair was gray now.
Her face thinner.
But I recognized her instantly.
“Aunt Rebecca.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Emily.”
I started crying.
She opened the door.
For one second, neither of us moved.
Then she pulled me into her arms.
I was sixteen again.
Twenty.
Twenty-eight.
Every age at once.
I held onto her and cried so hard I couldn’t breathe.
“You’re alive.”
“Oh, sweetheart.”
“You’re here.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You left me.”
“I know.”
“You left me.”
“I know.”
She held me tighter.
“I am so sorry.”
Eventually she brought us inside.
She looked suspiciously at Vanessa.
“Who is she?”
“My husband’s wife.”
Rebecca blinked.
Then slowly sat down.
“I think I need coffee.”
Vanessa almost smiled.
“It gets worse.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“Where is Thomas?”
“Dallas.”
“Ryan?”
“Also Dallas.”
“Do they know you’re here?”
“Yes.”
Fear crossed her face.
“We shouldn’t stay.”
“Why?”
“Because if Ryan knows where I am—”
“He already knows Denton.”
Rebecca stood.
“What?”
“Claire told us.”
Her face hardened.
“Claire promised.”
“She was trying to help me.”
Rebecca paced toward the window.
“Did you come straight here?”
“Yes.”
“Did anyone follow you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That isn’t enough.”
She closed the curtains.
Then locked the back door.
Vanessa looked at me.
Rebecca noticed.
“You think I’m paranoid?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She sat across from me.
“What did Thomas tell you?”
“Not enough.”
“Typical.”
“Ryan said Margaret wasn’t my biological mother.”
Pain crossed Rebecca’s face.
I felt my throat close.
“It’s true.”
I stared at her.
“Who gave birth to me?”
Rebecca looked down.
I knew before she spoke.
Some part of me knew.
“You did.”
Her head snapped up.
Tears filled her eyes.
I covered my mouth.
Vanessa went completely still.
Rebecca whispered, “Yes.”
The room tilted.
“You’re my mother?”
“Biologically.”
I stood.
“No.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
“I was eighteen.”
“Stop.”
“I was terrified.”
“Stop.”
“Your father—”
“Thomas is my father?”
Rebecca closed her eyes.
“No.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
She began crying.
“Thomas is not your biological father.”
My entire identity vanished in one sentence.
I grabbed the chair.
“Then who is?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“A man named David Mercer.”
I had never heard the name.
“Who was he?”
“He worked for your grandfather.”
“At Harrison Development?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mom know?”
“Margaret knew everything.”
“What happened?”
Rebecca took a long breath.
“I was eighteen and stupid and desperate to prove I was grown.”
“You loved him?”
“I thought I did.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died.”
“When?”
“Three months before you were born.”
I closed my eyes.
“How?”
“Construction accident.”
Something about the way she said it felt wrong.
“Was it an accident?”
She looked toward the dark window.
“I don’t know.”
“You think it wasn’t?”
“I was told it was.”
“By who?”
“Your grandfather.”
I sat again.
Rebecca continued.
“Our father cared about reputation more than anything.”
That sounded painfully familiar.
“When I became pregnant, he told me I would ruin the family.”
My hands tightened.
“He wanted you to end the pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Then why did Margaret raise me?”
Rebecca cried openly now.
“Because I wasn’t ready.”
“You could have become ready.”
“I know.”
“You had thirty-four years.”
“I know.”
“You were my aunt.”
“I know.”
“You watched me call another woman Mom.”
Her face collapsed.
“Margaret was your mother.”
“Don’t.”
“She was.”
“You don’t get to tell me that.”
“You’re right.”
I stood and walked toward the window.
I wanted to leave.
I wanted to stay.
I wanted my dead mother.
I wanted to be six years old again, before any of these names meant betrayal.
“Did Dad know?”
“Thomas knew.”
“He raised me as his daughter.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Margaret couldn’t have children.”
I turned.
Rebecca wiped her face.
“She had suffered two miscarriages.”
My chest tightened.
“She wanted a child.”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t?”
“I loved you.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Rebecca looked down.
“I was scared.”
The word made me angry.
Everyone was always scared.
My father was scared.
Claire was scared.
Rebecca was scared.
And somehow I was the person who had to live inside the consequences.
“So you gave me away.”
“I gave you to Margaret.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No.”
Rebecca nodded.
“It doesn’t.”
Vanessa stayed completely silent.
I appreciated her for that.
I asked, “Why did Ryan know?”
Rebecca looked confused.
“Know what?”
“About my birth.”
Her face changed.
“He knows?”
“Yes.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Apparently not.”
“Thomas promised the records were sealed.”
“There are always records.”
Rebecca looked suddenly frightened.
“What exactly did Ryan say?”
“That I should ask you about the night I was born.”
She stood.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“He found David.”
“You said David died.”
“He did.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Rebecca crossed the room and pulled open a drawer.
She removed an old photograph.
A young man stood beside her.
Tall.
Dark hair.
Strong jaw.
I took the picture.
My breath caught.
There was something familiar about him.
Not because I had seen him.
Because I had seen parts of his face on myself.
“He’s my father.”
“Yes.”
On the back was a name.
David Mercer.
And beneath it, another.
Mercer & Hale Construction.
I froze.
“Hale?”
Rebecca nodded.
“David’s business partner was Walter Hale.”
The name hit me.
I knew Walter Hale.
Everyone in Dallas development knew Walter Hale.
He had founded Hale Capital.
And his son, Charles Hale, currently sat on the board of Harrison Development.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Why does this matter?”
“Because David believed someone inside Harrison was stealing from construction contracts.”
My stomach tightened.
“Grandfather?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dad?”
“He was only twenty-four.”
“Then who?”
“David never told me.”
“What happened?”
“He said he had proof.”
“And then he died.”
“Yes.”
I sat down slowly.
Thirty-four years ago, my biological father had discovered financial wrongdoing connected to Harrison Development.
He died.
Years later, my mother Margaret discovered financial wrongdoing.
She died.
The same company.
The same family.
The same silence.
“This didn’t start with Ryan.”
Rebecca shook her head.
“No.”
“He found something older.”
“Yes.”
“What?”
She looked at me.
“David’s files.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Margaret have them?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“That’s why she hired Ryan.”
Rebecca nodded.
“She wanted an outside analyst to trace the old transactions.”
Everything shifted.
Ryan had not randomly found my father’s fraud.
My mother had intentionally brought him in.
To investigate something that began before I was born.
“Did Thomas know?”
“Eventually.”
“And that’s when Ryan started blackmailing him?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you disappear?”
Rebecca looked at the floor.
“Because the night Margaret died, she gave me something.”
“The drive.”
“Yes.”
“What was on it?”
“I never opened everything.”
“Why?”
“I was terrified.”
“Where is it?”
Rebecca looked toward the hallway.
“In this house.”
Vanessa and I exchanged a glance.
Rebecca stood.
“I hid it somewhere no one would look.”
She walked toward a bedroom.
I followed.
Inside was an old dresser.
She pulled out the bottom drawer.
Removed the clothing.
Then lifted a wooden panel.
A flash drive was taped underneath.
She handed it to me.
“This is what Ryan was looking for.”
I stared at it.
“You kept this six years?”
“Yes.”
“Why not go to the police?”
“Because Margaret told me there were people inside law enforcement connected to Harrison.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who else saw the drive?”
“Claire.”
“Thomas?”
“No.”
“Ryan?”
“No.”
A sound came from outside.
Car door.
Rebecca froze.
Vanessa moved to the window.
Her face went pale.
“What?”
I asked.
She looked at me.
“Ryan.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I moved toward the curtain.
A black SUV sat at the curb.
Ryan stepped out.
But he wasn’t alone.
My father climbed out from the passenger side.
Rebecca whispered, “No.”
I stared at them.
Dad had come with the man he claimed to hate.
“They followed us.”
Vanessa said.
Rebecca grabbed my arm.
“There’s a back door.”
I looked at her.
“I’m done running.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
Ryan walked toward the porch.
Dad followed.
I held the flash drive.
“This ends now.”
Then another car stopped behind theirs.
A silver sedan.
The driver’s door opened.
A man in his late sixties stepped out.
Rebecca looked through the window.
All the blood drained from her face.
“No.”
I stared at him.
“Who is that?”
She whispered, “Charles Hale.”
The Harrison Development board member.
The son of my biological father’s former business partner.
And when Charles looked toward the house, he didn’t look surprised to see Rebecca.
He looked relieved.
Like he had finally found someone he had been searching for.
Then Rebecca said the words that changed everything again.
“Emily, Charles isn’t here for Ryan.”
I looked at her.
“Then why is he here?”
May you like
She stared at the flash drive in my hand.
“He’s here because his father is the man who killed David.”
