Chapter 6
The detective warned us not to jump to conclusions.
A warning did nothing to stop my mind.
For six years, I had believed my mother died alone.
Now I knew Margaret had been inside the house shortly before paramedics arrived.
That did not prove murder.
It did not prove a crime.
But it proved another lie.
And I was drowning in lies.
The detective took Daniel’s laptop as evidence.
He also took copies of the surveillance logs and audio files.
Dad contacted the attorney who had handled Mom’s estate.
I went back to the apartment and sat beside Ava while she slept.
I watched her breathe.
One small hand rested beneath her cheek.
Her rabbit was tucked under her chin.
I thought about my mother.
She had held Ava only three times before she died.
For years, I had been angry at Dad for making the weeks after her death harder.
Now I wondered how much of that anger had been built by Margaret.
At six the next morning, Dad came into the kitchen.
He had not slept either.
“Coffee?”
I shook my head.
He sat across from me.
For several minutes, we said nothing.
Then I asked, “Why didn’t you fight harder for me?”
His face changed.
“After Mom died.”
“Naomi.”
“No. I need to know.”
He looked down at his hands.
“You told me to stay away.”
“I was grieving.”
“I know.”
“You knew Margaret hated you.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Daniel listened to her.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you disappear?”
His eyes filled.
“Because the last thing you said to me was that every time you saw my face, you remembered the worst day of your life.”
I closed my eyes.
I remembered.
Barely.
I had screamed it during our final argument.
“You said if I loved you, I would leave you alone.”
“I was broken.”
“I know that now.”
“You should have known then.”
He nodded.
“You’re right.”
That surprised me.
No defense.
No excuse.
Just agreement.
“I thought respecting your boundary was the only decent thing I had left to give you.”
My throat tightened.
“I needed my dad.”
“I know.”
He looked at Ava’s bedroom door.
“And I missed six years because I was too proud to risk hearing you reject me again.”
I reached across the table.
He took my hand.
It did not erase anything.
But for the first time since Mom died, I did not feel like I had lost both parents.
My phone rang.
Claire.
I almost ignored it.
Then I answered.
“What?”
“I need to meet you.”
“No.”
“Please. Daniel doesn’t know I’m calling.”
“That does not make it better.”
“It’s about the baby.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I don’t care about your baby.”
Silence.
Then she whispered, “You will when you know Daniel isn’t the father.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“I lied.”
Every muscle in my body went rigid.
“Say that again.”
“The baby isn’t Daniel’s.”
I stood.
Dad watched me.
“Then why did you tell me it was?”
“Because Margaret told me to.”
I nearly dropped the phone.
Two hours later, Claire sat across from me in Evelyn’s office.
Dad stayed outside.
Evelyn sat beside me.
Claire looked nothing like the polished woman from Margaret’s driveway.
No perfect hair.
No cream dress.
No confidence.
She wore jeans, a loose sweater, and fear.
“Start at the beginning,” Evelyn said.
Claire rubbed her hands together.
“I’ve known Daniel since college.”
“I know.”
“We dated briefly.”
That I didn’t know.
“It wasn’t serious.”
I looked at her.
“Apparently it was serious enough for you to sleep with him while he was married.”
She flinched.
“I deserve that.”
“Keep talking.”
She nodded.
“Last year, I started seeing someone.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
Evelyn said, “If you want our client to trust you, this is not the time to protect yourself.”
Claire swallowed.
“A man named Nathan Cole.”
I recognized the name.
A senior strategist on her father’s political team.
Married.
Of course.
“When I found out I was pregnant, Nathan panicked.”
I felt no sympathy.
“My father would have destroyed him politically. His wife would have left him. There were donors involved. It would have become a scandal.”
“So you chose my husband.”
“I didn’t at first.”
She wiped at her eyes.
“Margaret knew Daniel and I had reconnected.”
“Reconnected?”
“We were talking. Then it became more.”
“An affair.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Seven months.”
At least that part had been true.
Claire continued.
“Margaret found out I was pregnant before Daniel did.”
“How?”
“I told her.”
I stared.
“You told your boyfriend’s mother you were pregnant by another man?”
“She had become... close to me.”
I almost laughed.
Of course she had.
“She said Daniel could claim the baby.”
My stomach turned.
“What?”
“She said nobody had to know. She said Daniel wanted out of the marriage anyway and that this would force him to make a decision.”
“Did Daniel agree?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“He thought the baby was his?”
Claire nodded.
“I slept with both of them during the same period.”
Her voice shook.
“I told Daniel the dates matched him.”
Evelyn leaned forward.
“Did Margaret know for certain Daniel wasn’t the father?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“A prenatal paternity test.”
Claire opened her bag.
She removed a folded paper.
Daniel Mercer excluded.
Nathan Cole probability of paternity: 99.99%.
I stared at it.
“Why?”
My voice cracked.
“Why destroy my family for this?”
Claire cried.
“Because I thought your marriage was already over.”
“You saw us at Ava’s birthday.”
“Margaret told me it was an act.”
“You stood beside him while his daughter cried.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were carrying his child.”
“I know.”
“You let Margaret tell me my daughter could be replaced by a white family.”
Claire covered her face.
“I didn’t know she was going to say that.”
“But you knew how she felt.”
Silence.
That was enough.
Evelyn asked, “Why are you telling us now?”
Claire lowered her hands.
“Because yesterday Margaret called me from jail.”
I stiffened.
“She’s out?”
“Her lawyer arranged bond.”
My stomach dropped.
“She has a no-contact order.”
“I know.”
“What did she want?”
Claire pulled out her phone.
“I recorded it.”
She played the call.
Margaret’s voice filled the office.
“You need to stop panicking.”
Claire answered.
“A child was almost thrown in the garbage.”
“I never intended to put her inside.”
“You opened the lid.”
“To frighten Naomi.”
My skin crawled.
Margaret continued.
“Naomi needed to lose control. That was the point.”
Claire said, “The police have video.”
“They have one angle. Daniel still has custody rights.”
“You said this would be clean.”
“It will be if you stop being weak.”
Then Claire asked, “And the baby?”
Margaret laughed softly.
“You keep saying it’s Daniel’s until Naomi signs the divorce papers.”
My blood went cold.
Claire’s recorded voice trembled.
“What happens after?”
“By then it won’t matter. Daniel will have Claire Whitmore on his arm, a baby coming, and Ava living with us. Naomi will look like the bitter ex-wife trying to destroy a respectable family.”
Respectable family.
I felt physically sick.
Then Margaret said something even worse.
“Once Ava is comfortable with you, she’ll forget Naomi.”
The recording ended.
Nobody spoke.
Evelyn’s face had gone hard.
“That call goes to the detective.”
Claire nodded.
“And family court.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at me.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
She reached into her bag again.
This time she removed a small flash drive.
“Margaret kept records.”
“What records?”
“Everything.”
“Why do you have them?”
“Because she trusted me.”
Claire gave a broken laugh.
“She thought I was becoming the daughter-in-law she always wanted.”
I stared at the drive.
“What’s on it?”
“Emails. Financial documents. Notes about the custody case.”
My pulse quickened.
“And?”
Claire looked down.
“Something about your mother.”
Dad entered the room the moment he heard that.
“What?”
Claire looked at him.
“Margaret gave me an old folder because she wanted me to understand what she called family threats.”
“What kind of folder?”
“Medical records.”
My father went pale.
“Whose?”
“Elaine’s.”
I stood.
“How did Margaret have my mother’s medical records?”
“I don’t know.”
Dad took the flash drive but didn’t plug it in.
Evelyn called the detective.
An hour later, we reviewed copies under police supervision.
There were prescriptions.
Doctor visits.
Lab results.
My mother had a heart condition.
Mild.
Managed.
Then one document stopped the detective.
A pharmacy request made two weeks before her death.
A medication refill.
Except the dose had been changed.
Drastically.
Dad frowned.
“Elaine never told me about this.”
The detective asked, “Who picked up her prescriptions?”
Dad looked at the record.
Then his face went still.
The signature on the pickup receipt was not my mother’s.
May you like
It was a name we all knew.
Margaret Mercer.
