Chapter 13: The Night We Found My Sister
"Emily!""
I shouted her name into the phone.
Nothing.
I called again.
Straight to voicemail.
Dad was already moving toward the door.
"Where does she live?""
Patricia gave Detective Harris the address, and within seconds, two officers were arranging emergency assistance.
"Nobody goes alone," Harris ordered.
"We don't know what we're walking into.""
I climbed into the back of Dad's car.
He started the engine.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at me.
"Ethan, if anything happens tonight, I need you to know something.""
"Don't.""
"Please.""
I stared out the window.
"I spent three years believing Vanessa because it was easier than admitting I had failed you. I thought keeping the peace meant keeping our family together.""
He swallowed.
"But I was wrong. I hit my own son without asking a single question. I will regret that for the rest of my life.""
I touched my swollen cheek.
"You can't undo it.""
"I know.""
"Then don't make promises. Just help me find Emily.""
He nodded.
We arrived at Emily's apartment building eleven minutes later.
Two police vehicles were already outside.
Detective Harris ordered everyone to remain behind the officers while they checked the entrance.
The building's front door was unlocked.
A security guard sat behind the reception desk, trembling.
"Two men went upstairs," he told the detective.
"One said he was family.""
"Did you recognize them?""
The guard shook his head.
One officer hurried toward the elevator.
We took the stairs.
Emily lived on the fourth floor.
Her apartment door was open.
A lamp lay shattered in the hallway. A handbag had been thrown against the wall, and a framed photograph was broken beneath someone's shoe.
"Emily!"" I shouted.
A faint sound came from inside.
"Help!""
I rushed toward the bedroom.
An officer moved ahead of me.
We found Emily crouched behind her bed, holding a heavy wooden lamp.
She was crying.
Her dark hair fell across her face, and her hands were shaking.
When she saw me, she lowered the lamp.
"Who are you?""
"I'm Ethan.""
She stared.
"Patricia said you were my brother.""
I nodded.
She looked at Dad.
"And him?""
Dad struggled to speak.
"I'm your father, Emily.""
She stared at him for several seconds.
Then she began crying.
Not because she believed us.
Because she didn't know what to believe.
Detective Harris searched the apartment.
One officer found the back window open.
Another discovered a small black device attached beneath the kitchen table.
A tracking device.
Emily looked at it.
"They've been following me?""
Patricia arrived moments later.
She rushed toward Emily.
"Sweetheart!""
Emily stepped backward.
"Don't.""
Patricia stopped.
Emily's voice trembled.
"Did you know?""
Patricia started crying.
"Yes.""
"Did you know they were my real family?""
"Not at first.""
"How long?""
Patricia couldn't answer.
Emily looked at me.
"How long have you known about me?""
"About an hour.""
She laughed through her tears.
"An hour. And my entire life has apparently been a lie.""
I didn't know what to say.
Then she noticed the silver locket around my neck.
Her expression changed.
"Where did you get that?""
I touched it.
"It belonged to our mother.""
Emily reached into her purse and pulled out a small photograph.
It showed a younger Margaret holding a newborn baby.
On the back, in my mother's handwriting, were four words:
My daughter, Emily Carter.
Emily stared at the photograph.
"She knew my name?""
I nodded.
"She never stopped looking for you.""
Emily covered her mouth.
Then Dad slowly approached.
"I don't expect you to forgive anyone tonight. But if you'll let me, I want to explain everything.""
She looked at him.
"Why didn't you find me?""
Dad's eyes filled.
"I didn't know you existed.""
"How could you not know your own daughter?""
He lowered his head.
"I don't have an answer that will make that hurt less.""
Detective Harris returned.
"We found something.""
He held up a small leather folder recovered from the apartment's living room.
Inside was a photograph of Emily leaving work.
Beneath it was a handwritten note.
Bring the girl to the warehouse. The original shares must be signed before midnight.
Emily stared.
"I've never been to any warehouse.""
Patricia suddenly looked terrified.
"I know that place.""
Dad turned toward her.
"Where?""
"The old Carter Development warehouse.""
The same place Michael had mentioned earlier.
Detective Harris examined the note.
"Why would Michael want Emily there?""
Patricia looked at Emily.
"Because he believes she has something your mother left behind.""
Emily frowned.
"I don't have anything.""
Patricia hesitated.
Then she looked at the small necklace Emily wore.
A silver pendant.
Almost identical to mine.
My heart began pounding.
"Emily, where did you get that?""
She touched it.
"My mother gave it to me.""
Patricia shook her head.
"No, sweetheart. I gave it to you when you were little. I told you it was from your birth family.""
Emily removed it.
There was a tiny seam along the edge.
I looked at my own locket.
Two keys.
Two children.
Two pieces of the same secret.
Detective Harris carefully opened Emily's pendant.
Inside was a tiny folded strip of paper.
My sister unfolded it.
Three words were written in my mother's handwriting.
Warehouse. Locker 18.
Dad stared at the message.
Then Detective Harris's phone rang.
He listened for several seconds before turning toward us.
"Michael has just filed an emergency transfer request for Carter Development Group.""
"Can he do that?"" Dad asked.
"Not if the ownership documents are valid. But he has submitted paperwork claiming both heirs are deceased or unavailable.""
Emily looked at me.
"Both heirs?""
Detective Harris nodded.
"Your mother established the trust in both your names.""
I took my sister's hand.
For eighteen years, we'd been living separate lives while someone else decided what our future would be.
Not anymore.
I looked at Dad.
"We're going to the warehouse.""
He nodded.
But as we walked toward the police vehicles, Emily stopped.
She looked at the photograph of our mother.
Then she whispered:
"There's something else Patricia never told me.""
Everyone turned.
Emily looked at the detective.
"Last week, a man came to my apartment. He said he was my biological father.""
Dad went pale.
Emily continued.
"He showed me a DNA report.""
She looked directly at him.
May you like
"But the report didn't say Marcus Carter.""
It said Daniel Carter.
