Chapter 4
Richard left for the house.
Ethan stayed with me.
It was the first good decision he had made all night.
But staying in the room did not mean we were suddenly okay.
I watched him sit beside the window, staring at his phone.
He looked like a man who had discovered his childhood was built on a trapdoor.
Part of me wanted to comfort him.
Another part remembered the dining room floor beneath my back.
“Did you know about Daniel?” I asked.
“No.”
“Did you know your father suspected anything?”
“No.”
“What exactly did Margaret tell you about the trust?”
Ethan rubbed his eyes.
“When I was thirty, she told me Grandpa had left money for a male heir.”
“Before or after your infertility diagnosis?”
“After.”
“And she told you Richard would disown you if he knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you believe her?”
He looked at me as if the answer were obvious.
“Because she was my mother.”
I let that sit between us.
Finally I said, “And I was your wife.”
His eyes dropped.
“I know.”
“No. You know now.”
“Emily.”
“You let me believe your silence was just fear of confrontation.”
“It was.”
“It was also fear of your secret coming out.”
He didn’t deny it.
My throat tightened.
“You watched her insult me because you were protecting yourself.”
“That’s not fair.”
I stared at him.
He immediately looked ashamed.
“You’re right.”
A nurse entered to check my blood pressure.
The baby’s heartbeat remained strong.
The bleeding had slowed.
That should have been enough to calm me.
It wasn’t.
Because every time I closed my eyes, I felt Margaret’s hands hit my shoulders again.
After the nurse left, Ethan moved closer.
“I’m sorry.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“I need more than that.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He sat on the edge of the chair.
“I should have stood up the first time she insulted you.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told her to leave our house when she criticized Ava.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told you about the trust.”
“Yes.”
“I should have told Dad about the diagnosis myself.”
“That was your decision.”
“I was ashamed.”
I finally looked at him.
“That part I understand.”
He seemed surprised.
“I understand being ashamed of something even when you shouldn’t be.”
My voice softened.
“But your shame became my burden.”
His eyes filled.
“And our daughters’ burden.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
My phone buzzed on the table.
Claire.
I answered.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m still at the house.”
“What happened?”
“Mom’s gone.”
Ethan stood.
“What?”
I put the call on speaker.
Claire continued.
“She left through the garage before Dad got back.”
“Where did she go?”
“I don’t know. Her suitcase is gone.”
Richard’s voice came faintly from the background.
“Ask her about the fire.”
Claire inhaled.
“Dad managed to pull some of the papers out before they burned completely.”
“What were they?”
“Letters. Bank statements. Something from a law firm.”
Ethan frowned.
“What law firm?”
Claire read the name.
Richard swore in the background.
I had never heard him swear.
“What is it?” I asked.
Richard took the phone.
“It’s the firm that administers my father’s trust.”
My heart pounded.
“Why would Margaret have letters from them?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Ethan came beside the bed.
“Dad, what did you mean when you said the old letters proved more than the affair?”
Richard was silent for a moment.
Then he said, “Daniel Mercer didn’t disappear after you were born.”
Ethan’s face tightened.
“He stayed in contact with her?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Years.”
“How many?”
“At least twelve.”
Ethan gripped the rail of my bed.
Richard continued carefully.
“One of the letters suggested Daniel knew you were his son.”
Ethan looked physically ill.
“So my biological father knew I existed?”
“Yes.”
“And never contacted me?”
“I don’t know whether he tried.”
Something in Richard’s tone caught my attention.
“What does that mean?”
He hesitated.
“I found references to money.”
“What money?”
“Payments.”
Ethan whispered, “From who?”
“I assumed Daniel was giving Margaret money.”
“But?”
“I may have been wrong.”
I sat forward.
“Richard.”
He exhaled.
“I think Margaret may have been paying Daniel.”
Ethan stared at the phone.
“For what?”
“To stay away.”
The room went silent.
Ethan turned and walked toward the window.
His shoulders rose and fell.
I could see his reflection in the glass.
He was crying.
Quietly.
I almost reached for him.
Then he said, “Find her.”
Richard’s voice was gentle.
“I will.”
“No.”
Ethan turned around.
“Find Daniel.”
Richard went silent.
“Ethan…”
“I’m thirty-eight years old. I just found out the man I thought was my biological father isn’t. If the man who is knew about me, I want to hear his side.”
“I’ll try.”
“No more secrets.”
Richard’s voice cracked.
“No more secrets.”
After the call ended, Ethan stood beside the bed.
“I don’t know what to do.”
For once, he wasn’t asking me to rescue him.
That mattered.
I held out my hand.
He stared at it.
Then took it.
“I don’t know if our marriage is okay,” I said.
His fingers tightened around mine.
“I know.”
“I don’t know if I can forgive you.”
“I know.”
“But you don’t have to deal with this part alone.”
He started crying harder.
“Thank you.”
The doctor discharged me the next morning with strict instructions.
No heavy lifting.
No unnecessary stress.
Return immediately if the bleeding worsened.
I almost laughed at “no unnecessary stress.”
When we reached our house, Ava and Sophie were staying with my sister.
I wanted them nowhere near Margaret.
Ethan unlocked the front door.
We stepped inside.
Then stopped.
The living room had been destroyed.
Couch cushions were on the floor.
Drawers were open.
Family photos had been pulled from the shelves.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
“Someone broke in.”
Ethan grabbed his phone.
“Stay outside.”
I ignored him.
We moved carefully through the hall.
Nothing expensive appeared missing.
The television remained on the wall.
My laptop sat on the kitchen counter.
Jewelry boxes upstairs were untouched.
But Ethan’s desk had been searched.
Every drawer emptied.
He looked at me.
“This wasn’t a robbery.”
I knew.
Someone had been looking for something.
We called police.
An officer took our statements and checked the doors.
No forced entry.
“Who has keys?”
Ethan and I exchanged a look.
“My mother,” he said.
The officer wrote down her name.
I stared at him.
“She shoved me yesterday.”
He looked up.
“Were police called?”
“Paramedics documented it.”
Ethan said quietly, “My mother may be in possession of a key.”
The officer nodded.
“We’ll need to speak with her.”
I walked upstairs after they finished.
Our bedroom had been searched too.
Then I saw the closet.
A small lockbox I kept on the upper shelf had been pulled down.
It was open.
Empty.
I froze.
Ethan came behind me.
“What was in it?”
My stomach turned.
“The fertility records.”
His face changed.
“All of them?”
“Copies of the donor paperwork. The clinic contracts. Your diagnosis.”
“Why would she want those?”
I thought of the trust.
Of Margaret’s panic.
Of a woman who had spent almost four decades protecting a lie.
“Because she’s scared.”
Ethan’s phone rang.
Richard.
He answered immediately.
“Did you find her?”
“No.”
“What about Daniel?”
“I found something.”
Ethan looked at me.
Richard continued.
“Daniel Mercer died six years ago.”
Ethan’s shoulders dropped.
I closed my eyes.
He would never get the confrontation he wanted.
Never ask why Daniel stayed away.
Never hear the answer from the man himself.
Then Richard spoke again.
“But he had a daughter.”
Ethan opened his eyes.
“A daughter?”
“Her name is Rebecca.”
“How old?”
“Forty-one.”
Ethan stared at me.
An older half-sister.
Richard said, “I found her number.”
“Did you call?”
“No. I wanted to ask you first.”
Ethan’s voice shook.
“Call her.”
An hour later, Richard arrived.
We sat around our kitchen table.
The same table where Margaret had criticized my Thanksgiving pies and called Ava “too sensitive.”
Now every memory of her felt contaminated.
Richard dialed the number.
A woman answered.
“Hello?”
Richard put the phone on speaker.
“Is this Rebecca Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Richard Whitmore.”
Silence.
A long silence.
Then Rebecca said, “I know who you are.”
Ethan stopped breathing.
Richard leaned forward.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Rebecca’s voice changed.
“Because my father spent the last years of his life waiting for this phone call.”
Ethan covered his mouth.
Rebecca continued.
“He told me that someday a man named Ethan might learn the truth.”
Ethan finally spoke.
“I’m Ethan.”
There was a soft gasp.
“Oh.”
His voice cracked.
“Did your father know about me?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“All your life.”
Ethan shut his eyes.
“Why didn’t he come?”
Rebecca was quiet.
“Because your mother made sure he couldn’t.”
“How?”
Another pause.
May you like
Then she said something none of us expected.
“She told him you died.”
