Chapter 13: The Daughter Who Was Stolen Twice
For several seconds, I couldn't move.
The letter trembled between my fingers as I read my mother's final sentence again.
You weren't the only child Vanessa took.
My father looked over my shoulder.
"Emily, what does that mean?""
"I don't know.""
But even as I said it, an awful thought had begun to take shape.
I turned the letter over, searching for another page. Nothing. Only my mother's signature and a phone number written in the corner.
Margaret took the paper from me.
"This number looks familiar.""
She pulled her phone from her purse and compared the digits with an old address book she'd found in the storage locker.
"It's my father's private office number," she whispered.
Dad stared at her.
"Richard's office?""
Margaret nodded slowly.
"He died in 2015. But before he died, he kept a separate file of family medical records. He wouldn't let anyone touch them.""
I looked between them.
"Do you still have those files?""
Margaret's eyes filled with sudden understanding.
"Yes. They're in a locked cabinet at my house.""
Dad immediately reached for his car keys.
"Then we're going there.""
The drive back toward Atlanta felt endless.
I sat beside Dad, holding the photograph of my mother and the little girl on the beach. Madison sat in the back seat, unusually quiet.
After almost an hour, she finally spoke.
"Emily?""
I turned.
"What?""
"Whatever we find, I need you to know I never knew about another child.""
I looked at her for a long moment.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to believe anymore.""
She nodded, accepting the answer without argument.
"I understand.""
It was the first time she hadn't tried to defend herself.
When we reached Margaret's house, she led us into a small study filled with bookshelves and old family photographs. She moved a heavy chair aside, unlocked a cabinet, and removed several dusty folders.
One was labeled *CATHERINE—2009*.
Another read *BIRTH RECORDS: CONFIDENTIAL*.
Margaret opened the second folder.
The first document was my original hospital record.
My name appeared at the top.
Emily Hayes Carter.
Beneath it was a handwritten notation.
*Twin A: Female.*
My entire body went cold.
Dad leaned over her shoulder.
"Where's Twin B?""
Margaret began turning pages frantically.
There were two separate birth records, both dated August 19, 2009.
The second baby's name had been crossed out.
Below the alteration was a replacement name.
*Baby Girl Hayes—Deceased.*
But there was no death certificate.
No burial record.
No medical report confirming the child's death.
Only a signature.
Richard Hayes.
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
"I had a twin sister?""
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
"Apparently.""
Dad sank into a chair.
"How could Catherine have hidden this from me?""
Margaret looked at him carefully.
"Maybe she didn't. Perhaps someone made certain you never knew.""
I stared at the papers.
"Why would anyone say a baby was dead if she wasn't?""
Margaret pulled out another document.
It was an emergency placement order, signed three days after our birth.
The document authorized the temporary transfer of a female infant to a private guardian.
The guardian's name had been blacked out, but a faint impression of the original writing remained beneath the ink.
Margaret tilted the page toward the desk lamp.
Then she whispered, "Vanessa Carter.""
Dad stood so suddenly that his chair scraped across the floor.
"No.""
Margaret examined the paper again.
"Michael, the signature is hers.""
"She was already married to someone else in 2009.""
"That doesn't change what this says.""
I looked at the placement order.
"Did she take my sister?""
Margaret couldn't answer.
She turned to another folder and found a photograph of two newborn babies lying side by side in hospital bassinets.
One wore a white bracelet.
The other wore a yellow one.
My name was written on the white bracelet.
The yellow bracelet carried a different name.
*Lillian.*
On the back of the photograph, my mother had written a note.
My girls. Emily and Lillian. August 19, 2009.
Tears blurred the image.
I had spent seventeen years believing I was an only child.
All that time, there might have been someone else in the world who shared my face, my birthday, and the same woman I had mourned without ever knowing her.
Dad sat beside me.
"Sweetheart, we'll find her.""
I shook my head.
"What if she doesn't want to meet me? What if she thinks she was abandoned?""
Margaret took my hand.
"Then we'll tell her the truth.""
She searched through the remaining documents until she found a sealed envelope addressed to a lawyer in Charleston.
Inside was a letter explaining that a child identified as Lillian Hayes had been placed with a family under a private guardianship arrangement.
The adoptive parents' names were listed.
Helen and Robert Reed.
Beneath their signatures was an address in Charleston, South Carolina.
Margaret immediately searched her old address book.
"I knew Helen," she whispered.
"She was a friend of my mother's. She and her husband had been trying to adopt a child for years.""
Dad looked at her.
"Did they know Lillian was Catherine's daughter?""
Margaret shook her head.
"I don't think so.""
I stared at the address.
"Are they still alive?""
Margaret checked her phone.
"Helen died two years ago. But Robert may still be living there.""
I looked at the photograph of the twins again.
"Then we have to find out.""
Dad nodded.
"We'll go tomorrow morning.""
"No," I said.
They both turned toward me.
"If my sister is alive, she's spent seventeen years without knowing the truth. I'm not waiting another day.""
Dad hesitated, then looked at Margaret.
She was already picking up her purse.
"We can reach Charleston before midnight.""
As we hurried toward the door, Madison's phone began vibrating.
She looked at the screen and turned white.
"What is it?"" Dad asked.
Madison showed us the message.
It was from Vanessa.
I know what you've found. Get Emily to the house immediately. If she meets Lillian, she will learn why Catherine disappeared—and the truth about who her father really is.
Dad stopped walking.
I felt the room tilt beneath me.
Slowly, I turned toward him.
"Dad?""
He looked at me, his face drained of color.
Then my phone rang.
An unknown number appeared on the screen.
I answered.
A woman's voice came through, trembling and desperate.
"Emily? My name is Lillian Reed. I think we're sisters.""
She paused.
May you like
Then she asked the question that shattered the last certainty I had about my family.
"Why does my birth certificate say Michael Carter is my father, too?""
