Chapter 7
Daniel didn't move.
The phone trembled in his hand.
“What did you say?”
Patricia repeated it slowly.
“Your father is alive.”
Daniel's face turned white.
“That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
“I saw him in the hospital.”
“You saw a man covered in burns after an explosion.”
Daniel looked at Richard.
Richard looked away.
That was enough.
Daniel’s voice rose.
“You knew?”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Daniel—”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
Daniel lunged toward him.
Two nurses jumped back.
The police officer moved between them.
I cried out as another contraction ripped through me.
Daniel stopped instantly.
He turned toward me.
Everything else disappeared from his face.
“I’m here.”
I squeezed his hand.
“Don't leave.”
“I won't.”
Patricia was still on the phone.
“Daniel?”
He looked at the screen.
Then ended the call.
His father could wait.
Our daughter couldn't.
Labor advanced quickly.
Too quickly.
Within an hour, I was six centimeters.
Then seven.
The medication couldn't stop it.
The neonatal team came to explain what might happen.
Incubator.
Breathing support.
Feeding tube.
Possible weeks in the NICU.
I listened while crying.
Daniel listened without blinking.
Then he leaned close.
“She’s a Walker.”
I stared at him.
“Is that supposed to comfort me after everything we learned about the Walkers?”
For the first time all night, he laughed.
A broken little laugh.
“No.”
He kissed my hand.
“She’s yours.”
“That’s better.”
Three hours later, our daughter was born.
She came into the world screaming.
That scream was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard.
I sobbed.
Daniel sobbed.
Even the nurses smiled.
“She’s breathing on her own,” the doctor said.
I looked toward the warmer.
Tiny.
Red-faced.
Angry.
Perfect.
Daniel whispered, “Charlotte.”
We had chosen the name months ago.
Charlotte Susan Walker.
After my mother.
The woman who raised me.
The woman whose decisions I suddenly understood less than ever.
Our baby needed help regulating her temperature and blood sugar.
The neonatal team took her upstairs.
Daniel went with her.
I told him to.
Laura remained outside my room until a nurse asked if I wanted her in.
I almost said no.
Then I changed my mind.
She entered quietly.
“You did well.”
I stared at the empty bassinet.
“She’s so small.”
“You were smaller.”
I looked at her.
“You remember?”
“Every second.”
She sat down.
“I remember the nurse taking you.”
I swallowed.
“Did you hold me?”
“For maybe a minute.”
Her voice broke.
“You opened your eyes.”
I looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not being able to call you Mom.”
Laura nodded quickly.
“You don't owe me that.”
“Susan was my mother.”
“I know.”
“She loved me.”
“I know.”
“And she lied to you.”
Laura’s face tightened.
“Yes.”
“I don't know how to feel.”
“You don't need to know today.”
That answer helped more than anything else she could have said.
Daniel returned forty minutes later.
“Charlotte is stable.”
I started crying again.
He smiled.
“Feisty.”
“Of course.”
“She kicked a nurse.”
“That’s my girl.”
Then his smile vanished.
He looked at Richard through the glass wall.
“We need to talk about my father.”
I nodded.
Laura stood.
“I’ll leave.”
“No,” I said.
She looked surprised.
“Stay.”
Daniel invited Richard inside.
The officer remained near the door.
Daniel didn't sit.
“Start talking.”
Richard looked exhausted.
“Thomas discovered that Patricia had been using foundation records to blackmail families.”
“When?”
“About twelve years ago.”
“Why didn't he expose her?”
“Because she had evidence connecting him to earlier illegal placements.”
Daniel shook his head.
“So he ran?”
“Eventually.”
“My father supposedly died three years ago.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
Richard swallowed.
“There was an explosion at an old warehouse owned by the foundation.”
“I remember.”
“A body was found.”
Daniel’s eyes hardened.
“Whose body?”
“We don't know.”
“What do you mean you don't know?”
“The identification was made using dental records.”
“So?”
“The records were switched.”
Daniel stared.
“By who?”
“Thomas.”
My skin prickled.
“He faked his death?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To disappear.”
“From Patricia?”
“And others.”
“Where is he?”
“I don't know.”
Patricia’s call suggested she did.
Daniel looked toward the hallway.
“What does any of this have to do with our house?”
Richard pulled another folded document from his coat.
A map.
Old survey lines.
The property.
Our property.
There was a red X beneath what was now our kitchen.
My stomach dropped.
“Records?” I asked.
Richard nodded.
“Thomas believed the original foundation ledger was hidden there.”
Daniel stared at the map.
“What ledger?”
“A handwritten record of every child transferred through the network.”
Laura went pale.
“Names?”
“Yes.”
“Birth mothers?”
“Yes.”
“Children?”
“Yes.”
Her hand covered her mouth.
“Then it could prove everything.”
“And destroy people,” Richard said.
Daniel turned on him.
“People deserve to know where they came from.”
“Some do.”
“All do.”
“Daniel, imagine telling a sixty-year-old woman that her parents bought her illegally.”
“That isn't our decision to make.”
Richard looked at me.
“What do you think?”
I thought about Laura.
About Susan.
About Robert.
About being thirty-three years old and discovering that half my childhood was built on secrets.
“They deserve the truth.”
Richard nodded.
“I thought you’d say that.”
Daniel frowned.
“Why?”
“Because Robert said the same thing.”
The next morning, I was allowed to visit Charlotte.
She was inside an incubator.
Tiny wires covered her chest.
Daniel slipped his finger through the opening.
She wrapped her entire hand around one part of his finger.
His face crumpled.
“I’ll fix this,” he whispered.
I knew he wasn't only talking about Charlotte.
He was talking about everything.
We stayed beside her for an hour.
Then Rachel came running into the NICU waiting room.
“Daniel.”
Something in her voice made him stand.
“What?”
“Your house.”
My heart dropped.
“What happened?”
“Someone broke in.”
“Again?”
“No.”
Rachel shook her head.
“They didn't steal anything.”
“Then what?”
“They tore up the kitchen floor.”
Daniel and I looked at each other.
The ledger.
“They found it?”
Rachel swallowed.
“The police don't think so.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever did it left angry.”
“How do you know?”
Rachel pulled out her phone.
She showed us a photograph.
Our kitchen was destroyed.
Cabinets overturned.
Floorboards ripped up.
And spray-painted across the wall were five words.
WHERE DID ROBERT MOVE IT?
My father.
He had moved the ledger.
Richard had been wrong.
It was never beneath our kitchen.
Or not anymore.
I stared at the image.
Then I remembered something.
A conversation with Dad when I was seventeen.
He had been repairing my old childhood dollhouse.
I asked why he kept it when I was too old to play with it.
He smiled and said:
“Some houses protect more than people.”
At the time, I thought he was being sentimental.
Now my pulse raced.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“Do you still have my dollhouse?”
She frowned.
“The huge wooden one?”
“Yes.”
“I think it’s in Mom and Dad’s storage unit.”
Daniel grabbed his coat.
“Where?”
“Across town.”
I looked at him.
“Daniel.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You need to go.”
“Emily—”
“If that ledger is inside the dollhouse, Patricia knows about it too.”
He looked toward the NICU.
Then at me.
“I can't leave you and Charlotte.”
“You’re protecting her by finding it.”
Rachel said, “I’ll go with him.”
Richard stood.
“So will I.”
Daniel hesitated.
Then kissed me.
“Call me every ten minutes.”
“I will.”
They left.
Laura stayed with me.
For twenty minutes, nothing happened.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered immediately.
“Did you find it?”
No response.
“Daniel?”
I heard breathing.
Then Patricia’s voice.
“Hello, Emily.”
My body went cold.
“Where is Daniel?”
“He’s fine.”
“Put him on.”
“I said he’s fine.”
“Patricia.”
She laughed.
“You really do sound like me when you’re angry.”
“I am nothing like you.”
“No.”
Her voice sharpened.
“You’re worse.”
“Where is my husband?”
“At the storage facility.”
“What did you do?”
“I got here first.”
I stood too quickly.
Pain flashed through my body.
Laura reached for me.
I waved her away.
“If you hurt him—”
“I’m not interested in hurting Daniel.”
“What do you want?”
“The ledger.”
“I don't have it.”
“But you know where it is.”
I said nothing.
Patricia continued.
“You inherited Robert’s stubbornness.”
“He wasn't my biological father.”
“No.”
“But he was your father.”
Something about the way she said it stopped me.
Almost respectful.
Almost sad.
“Why do you hate him?”
Patricia became silent.
Then said, “Because he took everything from me.”
“What?”
“My husband.”
My breath caught.
“Thomas?”
“Robert convinced Thomas to turn against me.”
“That’s not why Thomas turned against you.”
“You don't know anything.”
“I know you blackmailed families.”
“I protected the Walkers.”
“You protected yourself.”
Patricia’s breathing changed.
“You think you understand people because you grew up loved.”
I almost laughed.
“Is that supposed to excuse you?”
“No.”
Her voice became cold again.
“It explains why you’re weak.”
Then I heard Daniel in the background.
“Emily!”
I grabbed the phone tighter.
“Daniel!”
A loud sound.
Then silence.
“Patricia?”
Nothing.
“Daniel?”
The call ended.
I screamed for the nurse.
But before anyone reached me, another call came in.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A man spoke.
His voice was older.
Tired.
Familiar in a way I couldn't explain.
“Emily?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Thomas Walker.”
I stopped breathing.
May you like
Daniel’s dead father continued.
“If you want your husband alive, do exactly what I say.”
