Chapter 11: The Truth About Uncle David
Nobody sat.
Nobody spoke.
The name David hung in the room like something poisonous.
I looked at Lauren.
“Explain.””
She swallowed.
“I never told you because I was ashamed.””
“Of what?””
She looked at my father.
Then back at me.
“Michael wasn’t just my child.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Lauren closed her eyes.
“David knew about him before anyone else.””
My father’s face changed.
“Lauren.””
But she continued.
“He was the one who told me I couldn’t do it alone.””
I felt confused.
“Wasn’t that true?””
“Yes.””
She nodded.
“But he didn’t help me.””
A cold feeling spread through me.
“What did he do?””
Lauren looked at the old photograph on the table.
“He filled my head with fear.””
The room became silent.
“He told me I was too young. Too irresponsible. That someone else should make decisions for Michael.””
My father looked shocked.
“I thought you came up with those ideas yourself.””
Lauren shook her head.
“I was seventeen.””
Her voice cracked.
“I was scared and grieving before I even lost him.””
I looked at the folder.
“So David influenced you?””
Lauren nodded.
“He kept telling me that children needed perfect parents.””
My stomach tightened.
The same belief.
The same words.
The same cruelty.
James looked at Dad.
“Why would he do that?””
Dad sat down.
“I don’t know.””
I looked at him.
“You’re telling me Uncle David has been involved in this, and you don’t know why?””
Dad looked frustrated.
“I have been trying to find out.””
My phone buzzed.
Everyone jumped.
A message.
From an unknown number.
I opened it.
One sentence.
Stop digging into the past.
My hands went cold.
James immediately saw my face.
“What is it?””
I handed him the phone.
His expression hardened.
“Did anyone else get this?””
Nobody answered.
Then Lauren slowly raised her hand.
“I did.””
Everyone looked at her.
“When?””
“Two days ago.””
I stared at her.
“You didn’t tell me?””
She looked ashamed.
“I thought I could handle it.””
James shook his head.
“That’s exactly how this started.””
Lauren looked down.
“I know.””
Another message appeared.
This time with a picture.
My heart stopped.
It was Emma.
Sleeping in her crib.
At our house.
A picture taken through the nursery window.
I screamed.
James grabbed my shoulders.
“Claire.””
I couldn’t speak.
Someone had been inside my home.
Someone had watched my daughter sleep.
My mother started crying.
“Oh my God.””
Dad grabbed the phone.
“When was this taken?””
I looked at the message.
Last night.
My knees almost gave out.
James caught me.
“Claire, listen to me.””
I stared at him.
“Our baby was alone.””
“No.””
His voice was firm.
“We’re going home.””
We grabbed our things immediately.
Nobody tried to stop us.
Not even my parents.
But as we reached the door, Lauren’s voice stopped me.
“Claire.””
I turned.
She was holding the old photograph of Michael.
Her eyes were filled with fear.
“There’s something else about David.””
I waited.
“He wasn’t just trying to take Emma.””
My heart pounded.
“Then what was he trying to do?””
Lauren looked at the picture.
“He was trying to prove something.””
“What?””
May you like
She whispered:
“That Claire was never supposed to be Emma’s mother.””
