Chapter 3
I thought the detective had made a mistake.
Ryan had no brother.
Not a full brother.
Not a half brother.
Not any brother.
At least that was what he had told me during our seven years together.
“That’s impossible.”
Detective Bennett didn’t react.
“Why?”
“Ryan’s an only child.”
“That’s what his family publicly claims.”
“Publicly?”
“Yes.”
I stared at the photograph again.
The resemblance was impossible to ignore now.
The eyes.
The jaw.
Even the way Marcus held his mouth.
“Why would Ryan lie about having a brother?”
“I don’t know if Ryan knew.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
“Marcus Hale’s birth certificate identifies his mother as Linda Hale. The father’s name is blank.”
“So how do you know he’s related to Ryan?”
“We collected a DNA sample from a prior arrest.”
My eyes widened.
“Arrest?”
“Fraud. Charges were dismissed.”
“And?”
“His DNA was entered into a law-enforcement database. Years later, a sample associated with another investigation showed a close familial relationship to Ryan’s father, Charles Carter.”
My mind raced.
Charles.
Ryan’s father.
A respected Dallas real-estate developer.
Wealthy.
Controlled.
Image obsessed.
He had practically built his entire life around the Carter family name.
“Does Charles know?”
“We believe so.”
“Ryan?”
“We’re checking.”
The door opened.
Ryan stood there.
A police officer behind him.
His eyes moved from me to the photograph in my hand.
Then he froze.
“You know him.”
It wasn’t a question.
Ryan didn’t move.
Detective Bennett stood.
“Mr. Carter, I told you to wait outside.”
“Emily needs me.”
“No.”
My voice was weak.
But sharp.
“I need answers.”
Ryan looked at me.
“Emily.”
“Who is Marcus Hale?”
Silence.
The detective watched him closely.
Ryan’s face collapsed.
“My brother.”
The betrayal hit almost as hard as the SUV.
“You said you didn’t have a brother.”
“I haven’t seen him in years.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“I didn’t know how to explain him.”
“Try.”
Ryan glanced at the detective.
“Can we do this privately?”
“No.”
I stared directly at him.
“Nothing is private anymore.”
He swallowed.
“Marcus is my father’s son.”
“With another woman.”
“Yes.”
“When did you find out?”
“I was seventeen.”
“And you never told me?”
“My father made everyone agree not to talk about him.”
I laughed painfully.
“Everyone?”
“My mother knew. My grandparents knew.”
“So your entire family knew.”
“Yes.”
“And somehow your wife didn’t.”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of what? His existence?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
Ryan looked down.
“Of what my family did to him.”
Detective Bennett leaned forward.
“What did your family do?”
Ryan rubbed both hands over his face.
“My father had an affair with Marcus’s mother when he was twenty-two. She got pregnant. My grandmother paid her to leave Texas.”
“How much?” Bennett asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Did Charles ever support the child?”
“Some money. Quietly.”
“And later?”
“Marcus came back when he was twenty.”
“Why?”
“To meet our father.”
Ryan’s voice became tight.
“My father rejected him.”
I stared at him.
“And you?”
“I met him.”
“You were seventeen?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“For a while, we were close.”
That surprised me.
“You were close?”
Ryan nodded.
“He was different from Dad. He didn’t care about the company or appearances. He used to pick me up from school and take me to cheap diners because he thought it was funny that I’d never eaten at one.”
There was almost affection in Ryan’s voice.
Then it vanished.
“What changed?”
“My father found out.”
“And?”
“He threatened Marcus.”
“With what?”
“Police. Lawsuits. Anything he could use.”
Detective Bennett crossed her arms.
“Why?”
“Marcus wanted his name recognized.”
“Meaning?”
“He wanted Charles listed as his father publicly. He wanted part of the family.”
“And Charles refused.”
Ryan laughed bitterly.
“My father told him he was a mistake that should have stayed hidden.”
My chest tightened.
“What did Marcus do?”
“He disappeared.”
“For twenty years?”
“Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
Ryan looked at me.
“Three years ago, he contacted me.”
Everything inside me tightened.
“What did he want?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
“Five hundred thousand dollars.”
“Why?”
“He said Dad owed him a lifetime.”
“Did you pay him?”
“No.”
“Did your father?”
“I don’t know.”
Detective Bennett opened her folder.
“Mr. Carter, when was the last time you communicated with Marcus?”
Ryan hesitated.
“Eight months ago.”
My breath stopped.
“What?”
Ryan closed his eyes.
“The night I went to Chicago.”
I stared at him.
“You told me you came home because Jessica sent you pictures.”
“She did.”
“And Marcus?”
“He called me that afternoon.”
“Why?”
“He said he had something to show me about you.”
I could barely process the words.
“About me?”
“He told me you were cheating.”
“That’s why you came back.”
“Yes.”
“Did Marcus tell you to come home?”
“Yes.”
Everything suddenly connected.
The black Mercedes.
The strange man beside my bed.
Ryan’s unexplained return.
“Was the car outside ours Marcus’s?”
“I think so.”
My voice became a whisper.
“You saw your brother in our bedroom.”
Ryan looked sick.
“I didn’t know it was him at first.”
“But later?”
“When I ran downstairs, I saw him through the front window.”
“And you still left?”
“I was furious.”
“At me?”
“Yes.”
“I was unconscious.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew there was a strange man in our bedroom.”
Ryan’s face crumpled.
“I thought you were pretending to sleep.”
The sentence was so ugly I couldn’t speak for several seconds.
Then I asked the question I feared most.
“Did he tell you he slept with me?”
Ryan didn’t answer.
“Ryan.”
“He called me afterward.”
“What did he say?”
“He said I finally knew what betrayal felt like.”
My hands turned to ice.
Detective Bennett spoke carefully.
“Did he specifically say he had sex with Emily?”
“No.”
“Did you ask?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Ryan looked at the floor.
“Because I believed what I wanted to believe.”
I stared at him.
And something inside me changed.
For weeks after I discovered Jessica’s messages, Ryan had insisted his affair started because our marriage had already been broken.
Because he felt distant from me.
Because he believed I had secrets.
Now I understood.
He had spent eight months punishing me for something he thought happened that night.
And he had never asked me one question about it.
“So Jessica knew Marcus.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I swear.”
Detective Bennett pulled another document from her folder.
“Then maybe you can explain this.”
She placed a printout on the table.
Ryan looked down.
His face went white.
“What is it?” I asked.
Bennett answered.
“Phone records.”
She pointed.
“Jessica Monroe called Marcus Hale sixty-eight times in the last six months.”
Ryan stared at the page.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“She also received several wire transfers.”
“How much?” I asked.
“Two hundred eighty thousand dollars.”
“From Marcus?”
“From a shell company we believe he controls.”
I felt nauseous.
“So he paid her.”
“We’re investigating.”
“For what?”
“No confirmed answer.”
I remembered the SUV coming toward me.
Jessica staring directly at my stomach.
Then accelerating.
“She tried to kill my baby.”
Detective Bennett’s expression remained careful.
“We’re treating it as an intentional assault.”
“Why?”
“That’s what we need to find out.”
A soft knock came at the door.
A NICU nurse stepped inside.
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“Your daughter is stable enough for you to visit.”
Every other thought disappeared.
“Sophie.”
The nurse smiled.
“Yes.”
Tears immediately filled my eyes.
She brought a wheelchair.
Ryan stepped forward.
“Can I come?”
I looked at him.
He looked destroyed.
But I couldn’t forget what he had just admitted.
“No.”
His face fell.
“Emily, please.”
“You can see her later.”
“She’s my daughter.”
The words came out automatically.
Then the room went silent.
Ryan realized what he had said.
So did I.
According to Jessica’s test, Sophie wasn’t his daughter.
He stepped backward.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
I wiped tears from my face.
“Because regardless of what that paper says, you believed she was your daughter until twenty minutes ago.”
“She is my daughter.”
“Then why did you spend even one second staring at me like I betrayed you?”
He had no answer.
The nurse wheeled me away.
The NICU was quiet.
Warm lights.
Soft alarms.
Rows of tiny beds.
Then I saw her.
My daughter.
So small.
A tiny hat covered her head.
A breathing tube rested beneath her nose.
Wires crossed her chest.
I broke.
“Oh, Sophie.”
The nurse helped me reach through the opening.
I touched one tiny hand.
Her fingers curled weakly around mine.
“I’m here.”
My voice shook.
“Mommy’s here.”
She moved slightly.
I cried harder.
“I’m so sorry.”
A nurse beside me said, “You protected her.”
I shook my head.
“I should’ve known.”
“Known what?”
I stared at Sophie.
“That something was wrong.”
Eight months of missing memories.
Ryan’s strange behavior.
Jessica entering our marriage.
Anonymous accusations.
And now a DNA test I never consented to.
Someone had been controlling our lives.
Piece by piece.
I stayed beside Sophie for nearly an hour.
Then Detective Bennett returned.
She didn’t look relieved.
“Emily, we found something else.”
I looked at her.
“What now?”
“We searched Jessica’s apartment.”
My fingers tightened around Sophie’s hand.
“Okay.”
“We found a locked cabinet.”
“And?”
“Inside were photographs.”
“Of Ryan?”
“No.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“How many?”
“Hundreds.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“From when?”
“Some recent.”
She paused.
“Some from before you met Ryan.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
“You married Ryan seven years ago.”
“Yes.”
“The earliest photo appears to be from nine years ago.”
Nine years.
Two years before I had ever heard the name Ryan Carter.
“Where was it taken?”
“University of Texas at Austin.”
My pulse quickened.
I had gone there for graduate school.
“Why would Jessica have pictures of me?”
“We don’t think Jessica took the earliest ones.”
“Who did?”
Detective Bennett reached into the folder.
“There were handwritten notes on the back.”
She gave me one photograph.
It showed me at twenty-four.
Walking out of a coffee shop.
I looked happy.
Completely unaware.
On the back were four words.
I turned the photograph over.
My blood ran cold.
Charles Carter’s handwriting was unmistakable.
I had seen it on birthday cards.
Christmas gifts.
Company documents.
The note said:
KEEP HER AWAY FROM RYAN.
I looked up.
“Ryan’s father knew me before Ryan did?”
Detective Bennett nodded.
“That appears to be the case.”
I felt the room spin.
Then another voice came from behind us.
“Because your marriage was never supposed to happen.”
I turned.
Charles Carter stood in the doorway.
Ryan’s father looked older than he had the last time I saw him.
But his eyes were sharp.
Controlled.
He looked at Sophie.
Then at me.
May you like
And said quietly,
“Emily, before you met my son, you were supposed to marry Marcus.”
