Chapter 4
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Charles Carter stood in the NICU hallway like he had just told me the weather.
“You’re lying.”
His expression barely changed.
“I wish I were.”
Detective Bennett stepped between us.
“Mr. Carter, you were told not to approach Mrs. Carter.”
“I’m here to see my granddaughter.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t call her that.”
His jaw tightened.
“Emily.”
“You just said I was supposed to marry Marcus.”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never met Marcus.”
Charles looked at me for a long moment.
“You have.”
A chill moved over my skin.
“No.”
“You simply don’t remember him.”
My stomach dropped.
Detective Bennett immediately focused on him.
“What does that mean?”
Charles sighed.
“This conversation shouldn’t happen here.”
“It happens wherever Emily wants it to happen,” Bennett said.
I looked through the glass toward Sophie.
Then at Charles.
“Tell me.”
He hesitated.
“Now.”
Charles finally nodded.
“You met Marcus nine years ago.”
“Where?”
“Austin.”
“I would remember.”
“Under another name.”
I stared at him.
“What name?”
“Matthew Hale.”
The room tilted.
Matthew.
A face flashed through my mind.
A coffee shop.
A man smiling across a table.
Dark hair.
Kind eyes.
He had been a visiting lecturer.
Or claimed he was.
We had spoken twice.
Maybe three times.
Then he disappeared.
“No.”
Charles watched my reaction.
“You remember.”
“I remember a Matthew.”
“That was Marcus.”
My heart started pounding.
“But we barely knew each other.”
“That isn’t what he believed.”
“What did he believe?”
“That you were in love with him.”
I almost laughed.
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
Charles said it too quickly.
As if he had known that for years.
“He approached you intentionally.”
“Why?”
“Because of me.”
The answer made no sense.
I stared at him.
Charles moved closer.
“When Marcus returned to Dallas in his twenties, he became obsessed with proving he could take things from me.”
“Things?”
“My business. My reputation. My son.”
“And me?”
His eyes dropped.
“You were connected to my company.”
“How?”
“Your father.”
I stopped breathing.
My father, Michael Warren, had died when I was nineteen.
Heart attack.
At least that was what my mother told me.
“He never worked for you.”
“He worked for one of my companies.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“What company?”
“Carter Urban Development.”
I shook my head.
“He was an accountant for a manufacturing firm.”
“That was after he left us.”
“Why did he leave?”
Charles didn’t answer.
Detective Bennett did.
“Financial misconduct?”
Charles looked at her sharply.
She had guessed correctly.
My chest tightened.
“What did my father do?”
“He discovered something,” Charles said.
“What?”
“Accounting irregularities.”
“So he reported you?”
“He threatened to.”
I stared at him.
“Did you hurt him?”
“No.”
“Did you threaten him?”
Silence.
“That’s a yes.”
“I told him he would destroy his career if he accused me without proof.”
“Did he have proof?”
Charles looked away.
I felt sick.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing illegal.”
“That sentence usually means something terrible.”
Charles’s mouth tightened.
“Your father took documents.”
“What kind?”
“Financial ledgers.”
“Proof of fraud?”
“Proof that money was being moved through undeclared entities.”
“Your money?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
Charles stared at me.
“Marcus’s mother.”
I blinked.
“Linda?”
“Yes.”
I couldn’t follow.
“You paid her to leave.”
“My mother paid her.”
“And later?”
“Linda invested money through my company.”
“Why?”
“She wanted Marcus to have something.”
“Something what?”
“A legitimate claim.”
“To your family?”
“To the business.”
My mind raced.
“Did my father discover that?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“He believed I was stealing Linda’s money.”
“Were you?”
“No.”
Charles paused.
“My father was.”
Ryan’s grandfather.
The man everyone described as the founder who built the family fortune.
Suddenly none of the Carter history looked clean.
“My father discovered it,” Charles continued. “He threatened to expose everything. My father threatened him back.”
“And then my dad quit.”
“Yes.”
“And died two years later.”
“Yes.”
“Was his death really a heart attack?”
Charles looked directly at me.
“I don’t know.”
Not the answer I wanted.
Not the answer anyone should give about something like that.
My hands began shaking.
“What does this have to do with Marcus?”
“After your father died, Linda Hale contacted your mother.”
I stared.
“My mother knew her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She believed your father had hidden copies of the ledgers.”
“Did he?”
“We never found them.”
“And Linda thought my mother had them.”
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
Charles hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
I almost screamed.
“So Marcus met me because he thought I had evidence?”
“At first.”
“At first?”
Charles looked tired now.
“Then he became obsessed with you.”
“Stop using that word like it’s romantic.”
“I’m not.”
“Did you interfere?”
“Yes.”
“The pictures?”
“I hired a private investigator.”
“To follow me?”
“To protect you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“By secretly photographing me for months?”
“I needed to know whether Marcus was approaching you.”
“And he was.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I confronted him.”
“When?”
“Nine years ago.”
“Then he disappeared.”
“I made him leave.”
“How?”
Charles didn’t answer.
Detective Bennett stepped closer.
“How?”
“I paid him.”
I stared at him.
“You paid him to leave me alone?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“One million dollars.”
A laugh escaped me.
“You thought I was worth a million dollars?”
“No.”
Charles’s expression changed.
“I thought preventing Marcus from reaching your mother was worth it.”
I felt another blow.
“My mother.”
“She had something he wanted.”
“The ledgers.”
“I believed she did.”
“Does she?”
“I don’t know.”
I hated hearing those words from him.
“So Marcus took your money and disappeared.”
“For a while.”
“Then I met Ryan.”
Charles looked away.
“That was not planned.”
I stared.
“You knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“When Ryan introduced me?”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I tried to discourage the relationship.”
My mouth fell open.
His coldness during our first year together suddenly made sense.
The disapproving looks.
The questions about my family.
The way he refused to let Ryan invest in a house with me until after our wedding.
“You hated me because of my father.”
“No.”
“Because of Marcus?”
“I was afraid of what would happen if Marcus found out.”
“And he did.”
“Eventually.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
The same time Marcus contacted Ryan.
I turned toward Detective Bennett.
“You said the photos in Jessica’s apartment went back nine years.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Charles.
“How did Jessica get them?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who had them?”
“My investigator.”
“Name?”
Charles hesitated.
“Thomas Monroe.”
The surname hit instantly.
Jessica Monroe.
I stared at him.
“Her father?”
Charles closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
Everything snapped into place.
Jessica didn’t randomly appear in Ryan’s life.
Her father had been following me years ago.
“Is Thomas alive?”
“No.”
“When did he die?”
“Four years ago.”
“How?”
“Car accident.”
Detective Bennett wrote something down.
“Where were his files after his death?”
“I assumed destroyed.”
“You assumed wrong,” I said.
Charles looked at me.
“I can see that.”
I wanted to hate only Jessica.
It would have been easier.
A jealous mistress.
A reckless affair.
A simple betrayal.
But nothing about this was simple anymore.
The door opened again.
Ryan stood there.
This time he was carrying his phone.
His face was pale.
“Dad.”
Charles turned.
“What?”
Ryan looked at me first.
Then Detective Bennett.
“Someone just sent me a video.”
My stomach tightened.
“From who?”
“Unknown number.”
Bennett held out her hand.
“Give me the phone.”
Ryan did.
She pressed play.
The screen showed our bedroom.
Eight months ago.
My bedroom.
My bed.
My breath stopped.
The camera angle was high.
Probably hidden near a shelf.
I was lying under the covers.
Still.
The timestamp read 11:43 p.m.
Then a man entered.
Marcus.
I recognized him from the photograph.
My entire body began shaking.
He walked toward the bed.
Ryan stepped behind Bennett.
“Oh my God.”
Marcus leaned over me.
For one unbearable second, I thought the worst.
Then he did something unexpected.
He checked my pulse.
He shook my shoulder.
“Emily.”
His voice came through the recording.
“Emily, wake up.”
I didn’t move.
He looked terrified.
He pulled out his phone.
Then stopped.
A sound came from downstairs.
Marcus turned.
Ryan entered the bedroom.
The video showed him standing in the doorway.
Exactly as he had described.
Except one detail was different.
Marcus wasn’t standing beside me like a lover.
He was trying to wake me.
Ryan looked at him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Marcus stared at Ryan.
“You need to call an ambulance.”
Ryan’s expression twisted.
“Get away from my wife.”
“Ryan, she’s drugged.”
My heart stopped.
On-screen Ryan looked at me.
Then Marcus.
“You did this.”
“No.”
“You’re in my house.”
“I came because Jessica called me.”
Ryan beside me whispered, “What?”
The video continued.
Marcus said, “She told me Emily was in danger.”
Ryan took a step forward.
“Jessica?”
“Yes.”
Even on the recording, Ryan looked confused.
Marcus raised both hands.
“Your wife needs help.”
Then headlights swept across the bedroom wall.
Marcus looked toward the window.
His face changed.
“She’s back.”
“Who?”
“Jessica.”
The video suddenly cut to black.
We all stood frozen.
Then a second message appeared on Ryan’s phone.
A text.
Detective Bennett read it aloud.
YOU’VE BEEN BLAMING THE WRONG BROTHER.
Ryan looked at Charles.
“What does that mean?”
Nobody answered.
Another message arrived.
This time there was a photograph.
A hospital document.
A genetic profile.
Bennett enlarged it.
I recognized my name.
Emily Carter.
Then another name.
Fetal sample.
Sophie Carter.
Below that was a probability statement.
The biological father was not Ryan Carter.
But the report did include a familial match.
A male relative.
First-degree family probability.
Ryan’s hand covered his mouth.
I looked at Charles.
“No.”
Charles stared at the screen.
“No.”
My pulse raced.
Ryan shook his head.
“Marcus?”
Bennett looked closer.
“The report doesn’t identify the father by name.”
Then another message arrived.
Three words.
NOT MARCUS EITHER.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Ryan looked at his father.
Charles suddenly looked terrified.
“Dad?”
No answer.
“Dad.”
Ryan stepped toward him.
“If it’s not me and it’s not Marcus…”
His voice broke.
“There aren’t any other brothers.”
Charles backed away.
Then Detective Bennett looked at him.
“You said Marcus was your only other son.”
Charles said nothing.
Ryan’s face changed.
“You lied.”
Charles closed his eyes.
And for the first time since I had known him, the great Charles Carter looked completely defeated.
“I have another son.”
Ryan stared at him.
“Who?”
Charles looked toward Sophie through the glass.
Then at me.
“My youngest son is thirty-one.”
“Who is he?”
Charles whispered the name.
“Daniel Warren.”
The world disappeared beneath me.
Daniel.
My cousin.
The man Jessica had photographed me leaving the restaurant with.
The man Ryan had mistaken for my lover.
I shook my head violently.
“No.”
Charles stepped forward.
“Emily—”
“No.”
My voice rose.
“Daniel is my cousin.”
Charles looked at me with unbearable pity.
“No, Emily.”
My heart stopped.
“Daniel isn’t your cousin.”
May you like
He swallowed.
“He’s your half brother.”
