Chapter 4
I laughed.
I did not mean to.
It was the kind of sound that escapes when your mind refuses to accept what your ears have heard.
“Mine?”
Sarah nodded.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know what the report says.”
“No, you don’t understand. Why would Michael compare Ava’s DNA to mine?”
“I’ve been trying to figure that out for six weeks.”
I stared at the report again.
Suddenly every line looked different.
A sibling relationship.
Not parent and child.
Sibling.
I looked at Sarah.
“If this is my DNA and Ava’s DNA…”
She said nothing.
I could hear my own pulse.
“That would suggest Ava is my sister.”
“Or another close biological relationship.”
“No.”
I pushed the paper away.
“No.”
Sarah leaned forward.
“Rebecca, there’s something I didn’t tell the police yet.”
My patience disappeared.
“Then start talking.”
“The DNA sample labeled Lily was taken from a hairbrush Michael stole from your bathroom.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw him take it.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“You were in my house last year?”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
I stood.
I could not sit across from her anymore.
Every answer created a worse question.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I was stupid.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“I loved him.”
“So did I.”
Her eyes dropped.
“I kept believing that one day he would finally choose a life and stop living two.”
I stared at her.
“And you thought that life would be yours.”
“Yes.”
At least she admitted it.
I looked through the glass.
Lily was still sleeping.
I lowered my voice.
“So Michael takes my hair.”
“Yes.”
“He tests it against Ava.”
“Yes.”
“And he discovers we’re related.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who else knew?”
“Evelyn.”
Of course.
I picked up the report again.
My mother had died when I was fourteen.
Cancer.
My father raised me alone after that.
At least, that was the story I had always known.
My mother had one sister, Aunt Claire, who lived in Oregon.
My father was an only child.
There was no hidden baby.
No mysterious sibling.
No reason a six-year-old child should share enough DNA with me to trigger a sibling probability.
Unless—
I stopped.
Sarah noticed.
“What?”
I shook my head.
A memory had surfaced.
My father.
Three months before he died.
Sitting at his kitchen table.
He had been weak from heart failure and medication.
He kept trying to tell me something.
“There are things about your mother you don’t know.”
I had thought he was confused.
He said her name twice.
Then Michael entered the room.
My father stopped talking.
At the time, I thought he was tired.
Now I remembered the look he gave Michael.
Not affection.
Warning.
I whispered, “My father knew something.”
Sarah sat up.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang.
This time it was my best friend, Dana.
I answered immediately.
“Rebecca? Evelyn called me.”
My whole body stiffened.
“What did she say?”
“That you had some kind of breakdown and attacked Michael.”
Sarah mouthed, “Already?”
I closed my eyes.
Dana continued.
“I didn’t believe her, but what is happening?”
“I need somewhere for Lily and me to stay.”
“Come here.”
No hesitation.
“I mean it. Right now.”
Relief almost made me cry.
“Thank you.”
“What happened?”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
I paused.
“Do not tell Evelyn we’re coming.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not tell anyone.”
“Rebecca, you’re scaring me.”
“Good. Then you’ll remember.”
We left the hospital after two in the morning.
Sarah walked with us to the parking lot.
Before she left, she gave me a flash drive.
“What’s this?”
“Copies.”
“Of what?”
“Messages. Photos. Bank transfers. Emails.”
My eyes narrowed.
“Bank transfers?”
“Michael has been paying for my apartment from an account with your name on it.”
I almost dropped the drive.
“What account?”
“I don’t know.”
“I have never paid your rent.”
“I know.”
“How much?”
Sarah looked ashamed.
“Three thousand four hundred a month.”
For a moment I saw nothing but darkness around the edges of my vision.
“Seven years?”
“No. The apartment for four. Before that, smaller places.”
“Using my money?”
“Some of it.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead I asked, “Why are you giving this to me?”
“Because I should have given it to you years ago.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
She looked toward my car where Lily was already asleep in the back seat.
“Because tonight I watched your daughter look at me like I was one of the people who hurt her.”
Sarah wiped a tear away.
“She was right.”
I said nothing.
“I may not have tied that scarf,” she continued, “but I knew I was helping him lie.”
Her voice broke.
“I told myself Ava needed her father. I told myself I was protecting my daughter.”
She looked at me.
“But I was teaching her that love means accepting whatever someone does to you.”
She stepped back.
“I’m done.”
I put the drive in my purse.
Then I said the only thing I could manage.
“If you’re lying again, I will find out.”
“I know.”
Dana opened her front door before I reached the porch.
She took one look at Lily asleep in my arms and stopped asking questions.
She simply moved aside.
I carried my daughter into the guest room.
When I tried to put her down, she woke and grabbed my shirt.
“Don’t go.”
“I’m staying.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
So I climbed into the small bed beside her.
For two hours, I listened to her breathe.
My phone kept lighting up.
Michael.
Evelyn.
Michael again.
Unknown numbers.
I turned it face down.
At five in the morning, Lily whispered, “Mommy?”
“I’m here.”
“Are you mad at me?”
I turned toward her.
“Never.”
“I opened the door.”
“What door?”
“Your bedroom.”
My eyes filled.
“You were allowed to open that door.”
“I saw something bad.”
“You saw adults making bad choices.”
“Daddy said families break when kids tell secrets.”
I felt something tear inside me.
I pulled her close.
“Listen to me.”
She looked at me.
“A secret that makes you scared, hurts you, or makes you feel trapped is not a secret you have to keep.”
She nodded slowly.
“Even if Daddy says?”
“Even if anybody says.”
“Grandma too?”
I froze.
“Why did you say Grandma?”
Lily immediately looked frightened.
I kept my voice gentle.
“Sweetheart, did Grandma ask you to keep something secret?”
She stared at the blanket.
“Lily?”
“She said Ava was a pretend cousin.”
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
Lily started twisting the edge of the blanket.
“When did you meet Ava?”
“At Grandma’s.”
I stopped breathing.
“You met her?”
Lily nodded.
“When?”
“Lots.”
I sat up.
“How many times?”
“I don’t know.”
My heart pounded.
“What did Grandma tell you?”
“She said Ava was Daddy’s friend’s little girl.”
I could barely process it.
“And you played together?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did Daddy know?”
“Yes.”
Of course he did.
The message said the girls could never meet.
But they already had.
Why would he lie to Sarah about that?
“Why did Grandma tell you she was a pretend cousin?”
“Because Ava called Daddy ‘Daddy.’”
There it was.
The moment everything had almost exploded.
Lily continued.
“I asked why she called him that.”
“What did Grandma say?”
“She said Ava was confused.”
“Did Daddy say anything?”
“He got mad.”
“At you?”
She nodded.
“He told me never to ask again.”
I swallowed my anger.
“Anything else?”
Lily became quiet.
Then she whispered, “Ava told me something.”
“What?”
“She said Grandma told her that someday she might live with us.”
I stared at my daughter.
“Live with us?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Lily shrugged.
“She said when you were gone.”
My skin prickled.
“When I was gone where?”
“She didn’t know.”
I forced myself to remain calm.
Children misunderstood conversations.
Children mixed memories.
There could be an innocent explanation.
But nothing about the last twelve hours had been innocent.
“Did you tell Daddy?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
“He yelled at Ava.”
“About what?”
“He said she wasn’t supposed to say grown-up things.”
I got out of bed.
My hands were shaking.
Lily grabbed my wrist.
“Where are you going?”
“Just calling someone.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I won’t.”
I sat at the edge of the bed and called Officer Ramirez.
She answered after several rings.
I apologized for the hour.
Then I told her what Lily had said.
The officer was silent for a moment.
“Document it exactly as she said it. Don’t question her further right now.”
“Okay.”
“And Mrs. Carter?”
“Yes?”
“File for that emergency order as soon as the courthouse opens.”
“I will.”
I looked at Lily.
“Officer?”
“Yes?”
“There may be financial fraud too.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Do you have evidence?”
“Possibly.”
She advised me to preserve everything and speak with an attorney.
After we hung up, I opened my laptop.
I plugged in Sarah’s flash drive.
There were folders.
PHOTOS.
MESSAGES.
BANK.
EVELYN.
INSURANCE.
I stared at the last one.
Insurance.
I clicked it.
Inside were scanned documents.
Life insurance policies.
Most were normal.
Then I found one dated eight months earlier.
My name was at the top.
Rebecca Carter.
Insured person.
Policy amount:
$2,000,000.
My chest tightened.
I had never seen it.
I scrolled down.
Owner:
Michael Carter.
Beneficiary:
Michael Carter.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
Except I had never signed it.
I zoomed in.
It looked exactly like my signature.
Almost.
The final stroke of my last name curved the wrong direction.
I knew because my father had taught me to sign my name when I was thirteen.
He always teased me about that ridiculous final loop.
This signature did not have it.
I clicked another file.
A second policy.
Five hundred thousand dollars.
Another signature.
Another forgery.
My breathing became shallow.
Then I found an email.
From Michael to Evelyn.
Mom, the coverage is finally in place. Stop worrying. If anything changes, Lily will be provided for.
Evelyn’s reply was one sentence.
Make sure Rebecca never sees the paperwork.
I stared at the screen.
My hands went numb.
Behind me, Lily whispered, “Mommy?”
I slammed the laptop closed.
She looked scared.
I smiled even though my face felt frozen.
“Everything’s okay.”
It was a lie.
May you like
But this time, it was a lie meant to protect my daughter for five more minutes while I figured out whether my husband had merely stolen from me—
or had been preparing for something much worse.
