Chapter 6: The Key to My Real Family
My mother reached for the key.
I closed my fist around it.
"Don't.""
"Emily, give that to me.""
"Why? So you can hide another six years of my life?""
Her expression hardened.
"You have no idea what you're dealing with.""
"Then explain it.""
"I can't.""
"Won't," I corrected.
She stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"Your father made enemies. He destroyed people. He stole from people. He put this family in danger, and I did what I had to do to keep you alive.""
I stared at her.
"By lying about my father? By stealing my inheritance? By sleeping with my husband?""
Her eyes flashed.
"Daniel and I were trying to protect you.""
I almost laughed.
"From whom? The truth?""
She reached for my arm.
I pulled away so quickly that she stumbled.
"Don't touch me.""
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then her face crumpled.
"I loved you from the day I brought you home.""
The words struck me with unexpected force.
"Brought me home?""
She covered her mouth.
I took a step forward.
"What does that mean?""
She shook her head.
"Nothing.""
"Mom, you just said you brought me home. You didn't say you gave birth to me.""
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Please, Emily.""
"Tell me who my mother is.""
She looked toward the front door, where the police had taken Daniel.
Then she whispered, "Her name is Laura Bennett.""
The name meant nothing to me.
"Who is she?""
"Your biological mother.""
I gripped the brass key.
"Where is she?""
Patricia shook her head.
"I don't know.""
"You expect me to believe that?""
"I haven't seen her in thirty-four years.""
"Then why did Dad have a photograph of her?""
She sat down heavily.
"Because Richard never stopped looking for her.""
I felt as though I were standing in a house built on shifting sand.
"Start at the beginning.""
She pressed her palms against her knees.
"Richard and I couldn't have children. We tried for years. We went to doctors, specialists, anyone who might help us. Eventually, we accepted that we would never have a family.""
"And then?""
"Then Laura came into our lives.""
Patricia stared at the window.
"She was young. Barely twenty. She worked at a diner near the construction site where Richard was supervising a project.
She was pregnant, unmarried, and terrified. She told us she couldn't raise a child.""
"So you adopted me?""
"Not legally. Not at first.""
My stomach turned.
"What does that mean?""
"Laura signed papers giving us temporary guardianship. She said she would return once she had found work and a place to live. But she disappeared.""
"How long after I was born?""
"Three weeks.""
I stared at her.
"You told me I was born at Atlanta Medical Center. You showed me photographs of yourself in a hospital bed.""
"I know.""
"Those photographs were fake?""
She nodded.
I felt a strange, hollow sensation in my chest.
My childhood memories had always been simple. I was my parents' only child. Dad was the practical one, Mom the affectionate one. We had birthdays, vacations, family traditions.
Now every memory seemed to contain a question.
"Did Dad know?""
"Yes.""
"Then why did you both lie?""
"Because Richard believed Laura would come back and take you. He was afraid you'd be caught between two families. He thought the safest thing was to raise you as our daughter and never tell you.""
"And you agreed?""
"I loved you.""
"That doesn't answer my question.""
She looked down.
"I was afraid of losing you.""
For the first time, her confession sounded honest.
It didn't make it forgivable.
I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water. My hands shook so badly that some spilled across the counter.
Behind me, Patricia continued speaking.
"When you were twelve, Richard received a letter from Laura. She wanted to meet you.""
I turned.
"What?""
"He refused. He said it would confuse you. He said Laura had abandoned you and had no right to return.""
"Did he tell her that?""
"Yes.""
"What happened?""
"She disappeared again.""
I stared at the woman who had raised me.
"Did you ever try to find her?""
"No.""
"Why?""
"Because I was selfish.""
The bluntness of the answer stunned me.
Patricia wiped her face.
"I wanted you to remain my daughter. I didn't want another woman walking into your life and taking the place I'd spent years earning.""
I looked away.
"And the estate?""
Her expression changed.
"Your father wanted everything to go to you.""
"Then why does the agreement name you and Daniel?""
"Because Richard changed the arrangement after the company collapsed.""
"Why?""
She hesitated.
"Because he discovered that someone had been stealing from the company for years.""
"Who?""
"I don't know.""
I laughed bitterly.
"You're standing in my house, confessing that you lied about my birth, my father's death, and my inheritance, and you still expect me to believe you don't know anything?""
She lowered her head.
"I know what Richard told me.""
"Then tell me.""
"He said the theft involved someone close to the family. Someone who had access to the company's accounts and knew how to move money without leaving obvious traces.""
My thoughts returned to the forged documents, the transfers made under my name, and the five hundred thousand dollars Daniel had accepted.
"Was it Daniel?""
"No.""
"Are you sure?""
She didn't answer.
I took the folder and walked toward the stairs.
"Where are you going?"" she asked.
"To pack.""
"Emily, you can't leave.""
"Watch me.""
"You don't understand how dangerous this is!""
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs.
"Then tell me what happened to Dad.""
She began crying again.
"I don't know if he's alive.""
"He called me today.""
"That doesn't prove anything.""
I turned slowly.
"You heard his voice.""
She looked away.
"Anyone could have imitated him.""
The excuse was so desperate that it frightened me more than the truth.
I climbed the stairs, locked myself in the bedroom, and began searching the estate folder for anything that might help me find the bank.
The key's tag listed a branch on Peachtree Street and a safe deposit box number.
Inside the folder, I found a folded letter addressed to me.
The handwriting was unmistakably my father's.
I opened it with trembling fingers.
My dearest Emmy,
If you're reading this, then the lies have finally begun to unravel. I need you to understand that I never stopped loving you. Everything I did was intended to keep you safe, even when my choices caused you pain.
The key opens a box containing the truth about your birth, your inheritance, and the night I disappeared.
But there is one thing I cannot put in writing.
The person who forged your signature is not Patricia.
I stopped breathing.
The letter continued.
It is someone who has been standing beside you for years.
A floorboard creaked outside the bedroom.
I looked up.
The doorknob began turning.
"Emily?"" my mother called softly.
"Please open the door.""
I folded the letter and slipped it into my pocket.
"Go away.""
"I need to tell you something.""
"Then tell me through the door.""
Silence.
Then she whispered, "Your father wasn't the only person who disappeared that night.""
I moved closer to the door.
"What are you talking about?""
Her voice broke.
"The woman who gave birth to you didn't disappear thirty-four years ago, Emily.""
I pressed my hand against the wood.
"Where is she?""
My mother took a shaky breath.
"She disappeared six years ago. The same night Richard vanished.""
I stared at the door.
"Why?""
"Because she came back to Atlanta to find you.""
I felt my heart pounding.
"And what happened to her?""
My mother didn't answer.
Then, from downstairs, a phone began ringing.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
My mother's footsteps retreated toward the stairs.
I pulled out my own phone and dialed the number that had called Daniel earlier.
Richard.
This time, someone answered immediately.
"Emmy?""
"Dad, I need the truth. Where is Laura Bennett?""
The silence on the other end was so long that I thought the call had dropped.
Then my father's voice returned, barely above a whisper.
"Emily, don't go to the bank.""
I gripped the phone.
"Why?""
"Because the moment you open that box, the person who forged your signature will know you've discovered everything.""
"Who is it, Dad?""
His breathing grew ragged.
"Look at the back of the letter I left you.""
I pulled the letter from my pocket and turned it over.
There was one final sentence written beneath the fold.
*THE PERSON YOU MUST FEAR MOST IS THE ONE WHO HAS BEEN CALLING YOU DAUGHTER.*
My eyes widened.
"Mom?""
My father whispered, "No, Emmy.""
A sound came through the phone.
A door slamming.
Footsteps running.
Then my father spoke one final time.
May you like
"It's Daniel.""
The call went dead.
