Chapter 5
Charles looked like she had shot him.
“You knew Emily existed?”
Margaret took a slow sip of tea.
Vanessa stood beside her, confused.
“Mom?”
Margaret ignored her.
Charles stepped forward.
“All these years?”
“Yes.”
His voice shook.
“You knew where Elaine was?”
“For parts of them.”
“And you said nothing?”
“There was nothing useful to say.”
I had imagined meeting the woman my mother feared.
I expected anger.
Maybe panic.
I did not expect boredom.
Margaret looked at me like I was a delayed appointment.
Detective Reed sat across from her.
“Mrs. Whitmore, we have questions about Elaine Whitmore and Thomas Carter.”
“You should speak to my attorney.”
“Your attorney is on the way.”
“Then we are finished until he arrives.”
She started to stand.
Reed placed a photograph on the table.
It showed the storage unit.
Margaret stopped.
Another photograph.
My mother’s letter.
Then the cassette tape.
Her eyes hardened.
Charles noticed.
“That’s your voice.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You always were sentimental.”
“You threatened our daughter.”
“She was hysterical.”
“You followed her.”
“She was pregnant by a mechanic who wanted our money.”
“No.”
Charles slammed his hand against the table.
“He wanted Elaine.”
Margaret’s expression stayed calm.
“That is what poor men tell rich girls.”
Vanessa whispered, “Mom, what did you do?”
Margaret finally looked at her.
“I protected this family.”
“From what?”
“Scandal.”
I felt sick.
“My mother was your daughter.”
Margaret’s eyes moved to me.
“And she was determined to destroy everything generations built.”
“By loving someone you didn’t approve of?”
“By being reckless.”
“She was twenty-one.”
“She was foolish.”
“And you were cruel.”
Margaret smiled faintly.
“You sound like her.”
I stepped closer.
“Good.”
Charles put himself between us.
Margaret noticed.
Something bitter flashed in her eyes.
“How touching.”
Detective Reed asked, “Did you poison Noah Carter?”
Vanessa gasped.
Margaret actually laughed.
“I have never met Noah Carter.”
“Someone administered digoxin to him.”
“I am not a pharmacist.”
Charles stared at her.
“You take digoxin.”
The room went silent.
Margaret’s smile disappeared.
I turned to Charles.
“What?”
He looked at Reed.
“Margaret has atrial fibrillation.”
Reed’s expression sharpened.
“Is digoxin one of your prescriptions?”
Margaret said nothing.
Charles answered.
“Yes.”
I lunged forward.
“You poisoned him!”
A detective stopped me.
Margaret looked almost amused again.
“Control yourself.”
I fought the officer’s grip.
“He could have died!”
“Emily,” Reed warned.
I forced myself back.
“Where were you tonight?” he asked Margaret.
“At home.”
“Anyone verify that?”
“My staff.”
Reed looked at an officer.
“We’ll need names.”
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“She wasn’t here.”
Margaret turned.
“Excuse me?”
Vanessa looked frightened.
But she continued.
“I came by at seven.”
Margaret’s voice sharpened.
“Vanessa.”
“You weren’t here.”
Charles looked at his daughter.
“Where was she?”
“I don’t know. Walter said she had gone out.”
Margaret’s face changed.
Barely.
But enough.
Reed saw it too.
“Who is Walter?”
“The driver,” Charles said.
Reed sent an officer to find him.
Margaret stood.
“This interview is over.”
A detective blocked the doorway.
“You’re free to remain silent. You’re not free to interfere with the search warrant being executed on this property.”
For the first time, Margaret looked angry.
“You brought police into my home?”
Charles stared at her.
“This stopped being your home when I heard Elaine screaming on that tape.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
“You’re going to choose a dead girl over your wife?”
Charles’ face broke.
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“I’m choosing my daughter for the first time.”
Margaret slapped him.
The crack echoed through the room.
Vanessa gasped.
Charles didn’t move.
Margaret whispered, “Coward.”
I saw something then.
Not a wealthy woman losing control.
A woman accustomed to controlling everyone.
Charles.
Elaine.
Vanessa.
Maybe Thomas.
Maybe all of us.
Reed’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He walked toward the hallway.
I followed.
“What happened?”
He held up one finger.
Then ended the call.
“Walter’s gone.”
Charles frowned.
“What do you mean gone?”
“His room is empty.”
Margaret said nothing.
Reed looked at her.
“He worked here twenty-three years.”
“Yes.”
“When did you last see him?”
“I don’t keep track of servants.”
Vanessa suddenly looked pale.
“Walter knew Mom before that.”
Charles turned.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did.”
“What are you talking about?”
Vanessa swallowed.
“When I was little, I remember him.”
Margaret’s face hardened.
“You remember incorrectly.”
“No.”
Vanessa backed away from her mother.
“He used to come to the house at night.”
Charles stared at Margaret.
“This was before Elaine disappeared?”
Vanessa nodded.
“I think so.”
Margaret snapped, “You were thirteen.”
“I remember his tattoo.”
Reed asked, “What tattoo?”
“A snake around a dagger.”
I felt a chill.
Charles went white.
“What?”
Vanessa looked at him.
“You know it?”
Charles sat down heavily.
“The private investigator.”
I stared at him.
“The one who followed Thomas?”
Charles nodded.
“His name was Walter Briggs.”
Detective Reed immediately called it in.
Within minutes, records confirmed it.
Walter Briggs had once worked as a private investigator.
His license had been revoked after assault allegations.
Years later, he somehow became the Whitmore family chauffeur.
Margaret stared out the window.
She knew the walls were closing in.
Police searched Walter’s quarters.
They found an empty medication bottle.
Digoxin.
Prescribed to Margaret Whitmore.
They also found photographs.
Hundreds.
My mother.
Me.
Noah.
Our apartment.
My jobs.
Noah’s college.
He had watched us for years.
One photograph showed me at sixteen standing beside my mother’s hospital bed.
Another showed Noah leaving a pharmacy three weeks ago.
Another showed the Dallas charity gala before I had arrived.
Walter had known I would be there.
That meant the wine spill might not have been random.
I thought back.
Someone had bumped my elbow.
I never saw who.
A man in a black catering jacket.
My skin crawled.
“He set it up.”
Reed looked at me.
“The spill?”
“He wanted me to spill the wine.”
“Why?”
I turned toward Vanessa.
She stared back.
Then I understood.
“To create a scene.”
Charles looked confused.
“Why?”
“So people would notice the necklace.”
Margaret’s head turned sharply.
I saw it.
The answer.
Walter had not been trying to hide me.
He had been trying to expose me.
The anonymous messages.
The storage unit.
The newspaper clipping.
Someone had wanted me to dig into the past.
Maybe Walter.
But why threaten Noah?
Before I could ask, a police officer entered carrying a laptop.
“Detective.”
They opened security footage from the hospital parking garage.
A man wearing a cap had entered through a service door.
Walter Briggs.
He had been inside the hospital.
The footage showed him approaching Noah’s floor.
Then leaving twenty minutes later.
Reed looked at Margaret.
“Your medication. Your driver. Your grandson in critical condition.”
Margaret stood.
“I want my attorney.”
Reed nodded.
“You should.”
Police escorted her to another room.
She was not under arrest yet.
But she was no longer in control.
Vanessa sat on the sofa.
Her face looked empty.
I should have hated her.
I did hate her.
She had slapped me.
Humiliated me.
But watching her discover what her mother might be capable of felt strangely familiar.
I had spent years learning my mother had secrets.
Vanessa was learning hers had crimes.
She looked at me.
“You think I knew.”
“I don’t know what you knew.”
“I didn’t know this.”
“You knew how to treat people like they were beneath you.”
She flinched.
“That wasn’t my mother’s fault.”
“No.”
I held her gaze.
“That was yours.”
She looked down.
Charles approached me.
“The hospital called.”
My heart jumped.
“Noah?”
“He’s awake.”
Everything else disappeared.
We rushed back.
Noah looked exhausted.
But alive.
I grabbed him carefully.
He smiled.
“Did you solve the family mystery yet?”
I laughed and cried.
“Not even close.”
Charles stayed near the door.
Noah saw him.
“You can come in.”
Charles looked at me.
I nodded once.
He approached the bed.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Noah said, “You really our grandfather?”
Charles swallowed.
“I believe I am.”
“You’re rich?”
I closed my eyes.
“Noah.”
“What? Important medical question.”
Charles laughed for the first time.
“Yes.”
“How rich?”
“Noah.”
He grinned weakly.
“If I almost died, I get one rude question.”
Charles smiled.
“Rich enough that you don’t need to worry about this hospital bill.”
Noah looked at me.
“Em?”
I sighed.
“He’s paying.”
Noah’s eyes widened.
“I like him already.”
I laughed despite everything.
Then his expression changed.
“Wait.”
He looked at Charles.
“Whitmore.”
“Yes.”
Noah turned to me.
“The box.”
“I found it.”
“No.”
His voice became urgent.
“Not that box.”
I froze.
“What do you mean?”
“The one Mom gave me.”
I leaned closer.
“You said it was in storage.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“Because he was there.”
He nodded toward Charles.
Charles stepped back.
“I can leave.”
“No.”
Noah looked terrified.
“She told me never to trust any Whitmore until I knew what happened to Dad.”
My pulse quickened.
“Where is the box?”
“In my dorm.”
Police had already secured it.
Reed arrived twenty minutes later with the box.
It was small.
Metal.
Locked.
Noah gave us the combination.
My birthday.
Inside was a flash drive.
A key.
And a sealed letter.
The letter said:
Emily and Noah,
If this reaches you, Richard Sloan kept his promise.
Thomas survived.
I dropped the letter.
Charles caught it.
Noah stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
I could barely say the words.
“Our father might be alive.”
The flash drive contained one video.
Recorded eleven years earlier.
My mother sat in a hospital room.
She was thin from cancer.
Beside her was a man whose face remained hidden in shadow.
My mother looked directly at the camera.
“Emily, I’m sorry.”
I started sobbing.
She continued.
“Your father is alive.”
The man stepped into the light.
Older.
Scar across his forehead.
Blue eyes exactly like mine.
Thomas Carter looked into the camera.
“If Margaret finds out I survived,” he said, “she’ll come for all of us.”
Then he held up a photograph.
Walter Briggs.
“But Margaret isn’t the one I’m most afraid of anymore.”
Thomas pointed to Walter.
“He stopped working for her years ago.”
My heart pounded.
“Then who does he work for?” Noah whispered.
The video answered.
May you like
My father looked at the camera.
“He works for Vanessa.”
