Chapter 12: The Woman Who Raised Me Was Part of the Lie
I couldn't look away from the photograph.
My foster mother, Helen Carter, had been standing inside St. Catherine's Hospital thirty years earlier.
She was younger, with her hair tied back and a nurse's badge clipped to her uniform.
She was holding a newborn.
My newborn.
"That's impossible," I whispered.
Grace reached for the phone.
The moment she saw Helen's face, she began trembling.
"You know her?"" I asked.
Grace nodded.
"She was there when you were born.""
I felt my throat tighten.
"She was my foster mother.""
Grace closed her eyes.
"She wasn't supposed to raise you.""
Nathaniel looked between us.
"Who was she supposed to be?""
Grace took a shaky breath.
"Your father's private nurse. She helped him move medical records and arrange the false death certificates.""
I stepped backward.
Helen had taught me how to ride a bicycle.
She had sat beside me when I had nightmares.
She had held my hand when I attended my mother's funeral.
And she had known my mother was alive.
"Did she know who I was?"" I asked.
Grace nodded.
"From the beginning.""
My chest hurt.
"Why would she take me in?""
"Richard paid her. He wanted you watched. He wanted to know whether I would ever try to contact you.""
Nathaniel clenched his fists.
"She was spying on her own foster daughter?""
Grace looked at him.
"She was also afraid of Richard. He threatened her son.""
I stared at the photograph.
"She had a son?""
Grace nodded.
"His name was Daniel.""
A memory surfaced.
Helen had once told me that her son died when he was a teenager. She never showed me photographs. She never spoke about his father.
I remembered finding an old birthday card addressed to someone named Daniel in her bedroom.
I had asked who he was.
She had taken the card away and told me never to mention the name again.
"Is Daniel alive?"" I asked.
Grace looked toward the window.
"I don't know.""
Detective Brooks stepped closer.
"We need to find Helen Carter.""
I shook my head.
"She's dead.""
"How do you know?""
"She died two years ago. Cancer.""
Brooks wrote something down.
"Where was she buried?""
"St. Mary's Cemetery.""
He turned to one of his officers.
"Check the burial records. I want her death certificate and the medical examiner's report.""
I looked at Grace.
"Did you ever try to contact her?""
"Once.""
"When?""
"After Richard died. I called her house. She told me you were happy and wanted nothing to do with me.""
I swallowed.
"I was never told you called.""
"I know.""
Grace looked devastated.
"I should have come for you. I should have found a way. But I was afraid that if I did, Richard's people would hurt you.""
I sat beside her.
"You could have trusted me.""
"I know, sweetheart.""
She brushed my hair away from my forehead.
"You look so much like yourself when you were a baby.""
I began crying again.
For years, I had wondered whether my mother had forgotten me.
Now I was learning that she had remembered every day.
But the truth didn't erase the pain.
Nathaniel walked toward the window.
"Detective, what about Daniel?""
Brooks checked his notes.
"There's a man named Daniel Carter who was listed as Helen's next of kin. He disappeared shortly after her death.""
"Any address?""
"One old apartment in Brooklyn.""
Nathaniel turned to me.
"We should find him.""
I nodded.
But before we could leave, Grace caught my hand.
"Rose, wait.""
She reached beneath her blanket and removed a folded piece of paper.
"This was sent to me three weeks ago.""
I opened it.
It contained a handwritten message.
Your children are gathering. The fourth child is no longer safe. If you want to keep Catherine alive, tell Rose where the original records are.
At the bottom was a phone number.
And a signature.
*Daniel Carter.*
My heart raced.
"Why would Helen's son be contacting you?""
Grace looked terrified.
"Because Daniel knows what happened to your foster father.""
Nathaniel took the paper.
"We're calling him.""
He dialed the number.
It rang once.
Twice.
Then a man answered.
"Who is this?""
Nathaniel put the call on speaker.
"This is Nathaniel Callaway. We're looking for Daniel Carter.""
The man laughed bitterly.
"Of course you are.""
"Are you Daniel?""
"Depends who's asking.""
"My sister's name is Rose Carter. Her mother is Grace.""
Silence.
Then the man spoke.
"Is she with you?""
I leaned toward the phone.
"Daniel? It's Rose.""
His breathing changed.
"You're alive.""
I felt a chill.
"Why wouldn't I be?""
"Because my mother was paid to make sure you weren't.""
I gripped the edge of the bed.
"What did she do?""
Daniel hesitated.
Then he said, "She didn't just take you from the hospital. She switched the babies.""
My stomach dropped.
Nathaniel looked at me.
"Which babies?""
Daniel continued.
"Your mother gave birth to four children. My mother took one baby home and left another behind. But the child she handed to you as Rose Carter wasn't the child born under your name.""
I stared at the photograph.
"No. That's impossible.""
"Your birth certificate was changed, Rose. The girl you grew up believing was you might not have been Grace's biological daughter at all.""
Grace began shaking her head.
"Daniel, stop.""
He ignored her.
"There's one more thing. My mother kept a diary. It explains everything.""
"Where is it?"" Nathaniel demanded.
"At her old house.""
"Then we're coming.""
Daniel's voice dropped.
"Don't.""
"Why?""
"Because someone is already here.""
A crash sounded through the phone.
Daniel shouted.
Then came the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.
The call went dead.
I stared at Nathaniel.
He immediately called Detective Brooks.
But before he could explain, my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph of a leather diary lying open on a wooden table.
Beside it was a bloodstained hand.
The message read:
If you want the truth about who you really are, come to Brooklyn.
Then another message appeared.
And bring your mother. She owes me thirty years.
I looked toward Grace.
She was staring at the screen.
Her lips trembled.
"That's not Daniel's handwriting," she whispered.
"How do you know?""
She pointed to the photograph.
At the bottom of the open diary was a name.
*Catherine Callaway.*
Grace began sobbing.
"Because Catherine has been dead for twenty years.""
Then she looked directly at me.
"Rose, the person sending these messages is not your sister.""
May you like
She paused.
"It's your father.""
