Chapter 8
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Rebecca's words stayed in my head.
Partners.
Jacob and Daniel.
Not victim and manipulator.
Partners.
“Put Jacob on the phone.”
“He doesn't want to talk.”
“I don't care.”
There was movement.
Muffled voices.
Then Jacob shouted, “Rebecca, give me the phone.”
A door slammed.
Rebecca came back.
“He left the room.”
“Don't let him leave.”
“He's thirty-eight years old. I can't lock him in my house.”
“Then tell me what you know.”
She hesitated.
“Not over the phone.”
“Rebecca, my husband may have tried to kill me.”
Silence.
“I know.”
My heart stopped.
“How?”
“Jacob told me.”
“Today?”
“No.”
Everything inside me went still.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
I gripped the phone.
“You've known about this for three months?”
“Not about an attempt. He said Daniel had been asking dangerous questions.”
“What questions?”
“About your death.”
My vision blurred.
Lauren grabbed my hand.
I put the call on speaker.
Rebecca continued.
“He asked what would happen to your Halston shares if you died before the acquisition.”
“And what did Jacob tell him?”
“That Daniel would likely inherit a portion depending on the estate structure.”
I felt sick.
Rebecca added quickly, “He claimed it was hypothetical.”
“My brother told you my husband was asking what happens if I die and you didn't call me?”
“I didn't know you.”
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was Thomas Halston's—what? Daughter?”
“No.”
She paused.
“That is the part you don't understand.”
I closed my eyes.
“Then explain it.”
“Thomas Halston was not your father.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“Jacob is Thomas's son.”
“I know.”
“You are not.”
“I never thought I was.”
“Good. Because your mother left you those shares for a different reason.”
“What reason?”
Rebecca hesitated again.
“Come here.”
“I need you to tell me now.”
“Sarah, I have documents you need to see.”
“What documents?”
“My father's private records.”
I looked at Lauren.
She was already grabbing her coat.
Indiana was a little over an hour away depending on traffic.
Maya insisted on coming.
So did Detective Brooks.
Rebecca's home sat near the lake in a quiet neighborhood surrounded by bare trees and old money.
When we arrived, Jacob's car was gone.
Rebecca met us at the door.
She was sixty.
Elegant.
Silver hair.
A face I had seen across boardroom tables for years.
She looked at me for a long time.
“You look like Margaret.”
I almost snapped back that everyone said that.
Then I remembered she had known my mother differently.
“Where is Jacob?”
“He left.”
“When?”
“Immediately after the call.”
“Did he say where?”
“No.”
Detective Brooks asked for his vehicle information.
Lauren gave it.
Rebecca led us into a study.
Boxes covered the desk.
Old corporate files.
Letters.
Photographs.
Maya immediately became alert.
“What are these?”
“My father's personal records.”
Rebecca opened one folder.
“I found them after he died.”
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
The same year Daniel and I married.
She placed a photograph in front of me.
My mother.
Young.
Maybe twenty-seven.
Beside her stood Thomas Halston.
They were laughing.
His hand rested on her shoulder.
It was intimate.
Not necessarily romantic.
But close.
Rebecca placed another picture down.
My father stood beside them.
The three of them together.
“Your father knew,” she said.
“About the affair?”
“There was no affair.”
I stared at her.
“But Daniel said—”
“Daniel found fragments. Jacob filled in the rest with assumptions.”
“So Thomas wasn't sleeping with my mother?”
“No.”
“Then how is Jacob his son?”
Rebecca took a breath.
“Your parents couldn't conceive.”
My entire body went cold.
“What?”
“Your father had fertility problems.”
I sat slowly.
“My mother got pregnant twice.”
“With donor assistance.”
Lauren stared at Rebecca.
“You're saying Sarah and Jacob were conceived through a donor?”
“Jacob was.”
I couldn't breathe.
“And me?”
“You were adopted as an embryo.”
Silence filled the room.
I laughed because nothing else came out.
“That doesn't even make sense.”
“It was uncommon then. Private. Complicated. Your parents wanted children.”
“My mother gave birth to me.”
“Yes.”
“But biologically?”
“Margaret was not your genetic mother.”
The room tipped.
I stood.
Then sat again.
Lauren squeezed my shoulder.
“You don't have to keep going.”
“Yes, I do.”
I looked at Rebecca.
“Whose embryo?”
She opened another folder.
“My brother's.”
I stared at her.
“Your brother?”
“Thomas's younger brother, David, and his wife, Claire, were undergoing fertility treatment. They created several embryos. Claire became seriously ill before implantation.”
I couldn't move.
“She died.”
“Yes.”
“And David?”
“Car accident the following year.”
Rebecca's voice softened.
“My father arranged for one remaining embryo to be transferred to Margaret.”
I felt detached from my body.
“So Thomas Halston wasn't my father.”
“No.”
“He was my biological uncle.”
“Yes.”
“And you…”
“My biological cousin.”
Lauren whispered, “Jesus.”
I looked down at my hands.
I had my mother's hands.
At least I always thought I did.
Maybe I had only learned to move them like hers.
“Did Mom know?”
“Of course.”
“Did Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't they tell me?”
“Fear.”
“Of what?”
“Losing you. Judgment. Legal uncertainty. Family conflict.”
Rebecca pushed a letter toward me.
It was addressed to my parents.
From Thomas.
The letter explained that any surviving interest David would have received in Halston Packaging should eventually pass to David's biological child.
Me.
Not because my mother had cheated.
Not because she had stolen shares.
Because I was the last child of Thomas Halston's dead brother.
The room went blurry.
“The shares were mine.”
“Legally, the structure became messy over the years. But morally? That was my father's intention.”
“And Jacob?”
“Jacob is Thomas's biological child through a private sperm donation arrangement with your parents.”
I closed my eyes.
“My brother is also my biological cousin?”
“In genetic terms, yes.”
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
“Did Jacob know?”
“Not until recently.”
“Daniel found this in the safe-deposit box.”
“That appears likely.”
Maya had been reading silently.
Now she looked up.
“These voting agreements could make Sarah's holdings extremely valuable.”
Rebecca nodded.
“Enough to block the acquisition.”
“How much?”
“If exercised with other rights? Possibly fifteen million.”
My mouth went dry.
More than Daniel had admitted.
“Why did Jacob help him?”
Rebecca's face hardened.
“Because Jacob believes your mother cheated him.”
“He was given a trust.”
“He believes he should have inherited Thomas's controlling shares.”
“But Thomas intended David's interest to pass to me.”
“Yes.”
“And Jacob knew?”
“Eventually.”
“What did he plan with Daniel?”
Rebecca walked to a locked drawer.
She removed a printed email chain.
“I discovered this on my father's old archive after Jacob called me months ago.”
Maya read first.
Her face changed.
Then she handed it to me.
Daniel and Jacob had exchanged messages using private addresses.
One sentence jumped out.
Once Sarah is out of the picture, we split control and force the sale.
My hands shook.
Another.
The insurance is only a fallback.
Another.
If the accident doesn't work, we proceed with the medical route.
I stopped reading.
“What medical route?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Detective Brooks.
He was already photographing the pages.
“What medical route?”
Rebecca opened another file.
“After your crash, were you hospitalized?”
“Yes.”
“Did Daniel control your medication?”
The memory hit me.
At home after the accident, Daniel had organized my pills.
Pain medication.
Muscle relaxants.
Sleep medication.
He had insisted I rest.
He had brought every dose to me.
My stomach turned.
“There were nights I couldn't remember.”
Lauren's face went pale.
“You told me the medication made you confused.”
“I thought it did.”
Maya said, “Sarah, did you ever overdose?”
“No.”
Then I remembered.
One night.
I had woken on the bathroom floor.
Daniel told me I fainted.
He had refused to take me back to the hospital.
He said I was exhausted.
“He was drugging me.”
“We don't know that,” Brooks said.
But his voice told me he was thinking it too.
I looked at the email again.
Medical route.
My own brother had been part of this conversation.
“Where is Jacob?”
Nobody knew.
Brooks sent officers to search.
His apartment.
Known friends.
Former girlfriend.
Nothing.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Jacob.
“Where are you?”
“Don't hang up.”
“You tried to kill me.”
“No.”
“Don't lie.”
“I didn't.”
“You were with Daniel when he asked about damaging my brakes.”
“I was there.”
My chest tightened.
“You just said you didn't know.”
“I panicked.”
“You planned to take my shares.”
“I wanted what should have been mine.”
“You discussed what happens when I'm dead.”
“I never agreed to kill you.”
“The email says once Sarah is out of the picture.”
“I meant divorced.”
“And the accident?”
“I didn't touch your car.”
“Who did?”
Silence.
“Jacob.”
“Daniel.”
I closed my eyes.
“You saw him?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because he told me afterward.”
My legs almost gave out.
“What did he say?”
“He said he'd solved the problem.”
The room disappeared around me.
“After my crash?”
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing.”
“I was scared.”
“You were disappointed I lived.”
“No!”
“You kept helping him.”
“Because by then he had evidence against me.”
“What evidence?”
“Forgery. Fraud. Everything.”
“You committed those things.”
“Yes.”
The word came out like a sob.
“I thought this was about forcing you to sell the shares. I thought we'd scare you financially. I didn't know what Daniel was capable of until the crash.”
“And then?”
“I tried to get out.”
“But you didn't warn me.”
“No.”
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
My own brother had known.
He had let me sleep beside Daniel.
Let me eat meals with him.
Let me ride in cars with him.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because Daniel isn't the only person involved.”
Everyone in the room went still.
“What?”
“The mechanic didn't damage your car.”
“I know.”
“Daniel didn't either.”
“You just said—”
“He arranged it.”
“With who?”
Jacob breathed heavily.
Then said, “Someone who had access to your house.”
My thoughts raced.
Housekeeper?
Neighbor?
Patricia?
“Who?”
“I don't know the name.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Daniel called him Mr. Gray.”
Maya looked at Brooks.
He was already writing.
“What is Mr. Gray?”
“I don't know.”
“Where did Daniel find him?”
“Through work.”
My stomach dropped.
Daniel handled corporate risk and acquisitions.
He had access to investigators.
Security consultants.
People who knew how to make problems disappear.
“Jacob, come to the police.”
“If I do, Daniel will bury me.”
“He already tried to bury me.”
“I know.”
His voice broke.
“I'm sorry.”
“Sorry doesn't fix this.”
“I know.”
“Then do one useful thing.”
“What?”
“Tell us where Daniel keeps the original records.”
Silence.
“Jacob.”
“He has a storage unit.”
“Where?”
“I'll text it.”
The line went dead.
A minute later, an address arrived.
Detective Brooks looked at it.
“Cicero.”
Then another message came.
UNIT 214.
And another.
CODE 0614.
I stared at the number.
June fourteenth.
Our wedding anniversary.
Daniel had used our anniversary as the code to the place where he stored evidence of destroying our marriage.
Brooks left immediately.
Three hours later, he called.
His voice was different.
Controlled.
Heavy.
“We opened the unit.”
“What did you find?”
“A lot.”
“How bad?”
“Sarah…”
I closed my eyes.
“Say it.”
“Financial files. Copies of forged documents. Photographs of your vehicle. Medication records.”
My stomach twisted.
“What else?”
“A folder with Emily's name.”
I froze.
“What about Emily?”
“Surveillance photographs.”
“Why was he following her?”
“We don't know.”
Then Brooks said something worse.
“There are three folders.”
“Three?”
“One for you.”
I gripped the phone.
“One for Emily.”
I stopped breathing.
“And one for Lauren.”
My sister went completely still.
I looked at her.
“Why Lauren?”
Brooks didn't know.
Then he added quietly, “Each folder has a date written on the front.”
“What dates?”
“Yours says March.”
I knew why.
“Emily's says January.”
January was three weeks away.
My skin turned cold.
“And Lauren's?”
May you like
Brooks paused.
“Tomorrow.”
