Chapter 5
My father had been dead for nine years.
At least, that was what I believed.
A heart attack.
A closed casket because the damage from the fall had been “too upsetting,” according to my mother.
My mother, who had died two years later.
My mother, who had hated Vivian from the first meeting.
My mother, who once told me, “That woman knows more than she should.”
I had dismissed it as bitterness.
Now Mara stood beside me in a hospital hallway, staring at a hidden child who looked like our family.
“Explain,” I said.
Mara’s lips trembled.
“Do you remember Dad’s assistant? Claire?”
“Barely.”
“She disappeared before he died.”
“She quit.”
“That’s what Mom said.”
I stared at her.
Mara lowered her voice.
“Mom thought Dad was having an affair. She hired someone to follow him. Then Claire vanished. Then Dad died.”
My throat tightened.
“What does this have to do with Nora?”
Mara looked through the glass.
“Claire was pregnant.”
I stepped back.
“No.”
“I don’t know if it’s true.”
“No.”
“Daniel—”
“No.”
Because if Nora was Claire’s child, she could be my father’s daughter.
My sister.
Hidden in my house.
Hidden by my wife.
The doctor came out before I could speak.
“Nora is asking for Daniel.”
Everything inside me went cold.
I entered the room alone.
Nora sat on the bed with a blanket around her shoulders.
She looked smaller under hospital lights.
Her eyes followed me.
“Are you Daniel?”
“Yes.”
She stared at my face.
“Mommy said you were kind.”
I sat slowly.
“Who is your mommy?”
Her fingers twisted in the blanket.
“Claire.”
Mara made a small sound behind the door.
I kept my voice steady.
“Claire what?”
“Claire Bell.”
My father’s assistant.
My chest hurt.
“Where is your mother, Nora?”
Nora looked at the blanket.
“She got sick.”
“When?”
“Before Vivian brought me here.”
I gripped the chair.
“Vivian brought you to my house?”
Nora nodded.
“She said you would help me. But then she said it was too dangerous.”
“Dangerous why?”
Nora’s eyes filled.
“Because if people saw me, they’d know Grandpa Robert didn’t die right.”
The room stopped.
Grandpa Robert.
My father.
I leaned forward.
“Nora, who told you Robert was your grandpa?”
“Mommy.”
May you like
“And what did Mommy say about how he died?”
Nora whispered, “She said he was pushed.”
