Chapter 8: The Sister Nobody Told Me About
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood Brianna.
I looked at the photograph again.
My father. A young woman. A newborn baby.
Then I looked at Patricia, who had backed away from the table as though the picture itself could expose her.
"Explain," I said.
Brianna shook her head.
"I can't.""
"That answer isn't good enough anymore.""
She pressed both hands against her wedding dress.
"My mother had another child before she married Thomas. A girl. She told me the baby died shortly after birth.""
Patricia's lips parted.
"Brianna, stop.""
"No!"" Brianna shouted.
"You told me my sister was dead. You told me not to ask questions. You told me Dad couldn't handle the grief.""
She turned toward me, tears spilling down her face.
"I found a birth certificate when I was seventeen. The name on it was different from the one you see in that photograph. I asked my mother about it, and she locked the document in a drawer. The next morning, it was gone.""
I stared at Patricia.
"Was that baby my father's child?""
Patricia looked toward Dorothy.
My mother nodded slowly.
"Yes.""
The word barely escaped her lips.
I felt as though the floor had shifted beneath me.
I had spent my entire life believing I was an only child. My father had never mentioned a daughter. My mother had never hinted at one. And now, on the day I was supposed to marry Brianna, I was learning that my family had been hiding an entire branch of itself.
"Where is she?"" I asked.
Dorothy shook her head.
"I don't know.""
"Does Dad know?""
"He did. He found out shortly before he died.""
"Then why didn't he tell me?""
"Because the discovery put her in danger.""
I turned to Brianna.
"You knew about her?""
"I knew there was a baby. I didn't know she was alive.""
"Did you ever search for her?""
Brianna looked down.
"No.""
The answer cut deeper than I expected.
She had spent years investigating my father, searching for documents, listening to Patricia's stories, and looking for evidence that Thomas had been framed.
Yet she had never searched for her own sister.
"Why?"" I asked.
"Because my mother convinced me that the baby was dead.""
Patricia suddenly grabbed her handbag.
"That's enough. We're leaving.""
Brianna caught her arm.
"You don't get to walk away from this.""
"Let go of me.""
"Tell him what you did.""
Patricia yanked her arm free.
"I did what I had to do to protect this family!""
"What family?"" Brianna cried.
"You destroyed mine before I even understood what family meant!""
Patricia slapped her daughter across the face.
The sound cut through the ballroom.
For one terrible second, I saw the same expression on Brianna's face that I had seen on my mother's earlier that afternoon.
Shock.
Humiliation.
Disbelief.
Patricia raised her hand again.
This time, Brianna caught her wrist.
"Never touch me again.""
Her voice was quiet, but there was steel beneath it.
Patricia stared at her daughter, then slowly lowered her arm.
I stepped between them.
"Nobody is leaving until we get answers.""
Raymond approached from the far side of the ballroom. His tuxedo jacket was torn at the shoulder, and a thin line of blood ran down his temple.
"They're gone," he said.
"Who?""
"The men who took the letter. Security checked the parking lot, but their car disappeared before anyone could identify the plates.""
I showed him the photograph.
His expression changed.
"Where did you get that?""
"My mother.""
He stared at the newborn.
Then he closed his eyes.
"Oh, Daniel.""
I grabbed his arm.
"You know who she is.""
Raymond nodded.
"Your father told me about the baby. He believed she was being kept away from both families because someone wanted to control what happened to the company.""
"Who?""
He looked at Patricia.
She refused to meet his eyes.
"Your father discovered that a trust had been established before the business partnership collapsed," Raymond explained.
"It was supposed to protect the children of both families if anything happened to their parents. But someone altered the paperwork.""
"What paperwork?""
"The documents that determined who controlled the company shares and the money in the trust.""
I thought of the missing box.
The sealed letter.
The anonymous messages.
"Was my sister named in the trust?""
"Yes.""
"And Brianna?""
Raymond looked at her.
"Yes.""
Brianna sank into a chair.
I could see her trying to piece together the years of deception. Her mother had told her that her sister was dead. My father had hidden the truth from me.
Raymond had concealed evidence. My mother had kept a letter sealed for eleven years.
And everyone seemed to believe they had been protecting someone.
"Where is the second box?"" I asked.
Raymond glanced toward the ballroom doors.
"Your father left instructions that it would be moved if the first box disappeared. He arranged for it to be kept in a place connected to the trust.""
"Where?""
"At the old family estate.""
I frowned.
"My father sold that property years ago.""
"He sold the house. Not the land beneath the east wing.""
Patricia let out a strangled breath.
I turned toward her.
"You know something.""
She stared at Raymond.
"The estate was demolished.""
"Most of it," Raymond replied.
"The basement vault remained. The new owners never knew it existed.""
I looked at the brass key in my palm.
"Then that's where we're going.""
Raymond shook his head.
"Not until we know who is waiting for us.""
My phone vibrated again.
A message from the same unknown number.
You have twenty minutes to bring the key to the ballroom's service entrance. Come alone, or your sister disappears again.
I showed the message to Raymond.
He read it, then looked at my mother.
Dorothy's face crumpled.
"They know she's alive.""
"Who?"" I demanded.
Nobody answered.
Then Patricia slowly reached into her handbag and removed a second photograph.
This one showed a woman in her thirties standing outside a hospital, holding a bouquet of white flowers.
Her face was unmistakably similar to my father's.
On the back was a name.
*Nia Carter.*
My sister.
Below it, someone had written a date from three weeks earlier.
I looked at Patricia.
"Where did you get this?""
She swallowed.
"From the person who has been paying me to keep your father hidden.""
My heart hammered.
"Who is paying you?""
Patricia stared toward the service entrance.
Then she whispered, "The man who raised your sister.""
Before I could ask another question, the ballroom doors opened.
A woman in a dark blue dress walked inside.
She was tall, with my father's eyes and the same slight crease between her eyebrows that appeared whenever I was angry.
She looked directly at me.
Then at Dorothy.
"Hello, Mom," she said.
My mother collapsed into a chair.
The woman turned toward me.
"And you must be Jalen.""
I couldn't speak.
She smiled sadly.
"I've been looking for you for eleven years.""
Then she pulled a small brass key from her purse.
May you like
It was identical to the one Raymond had given me.
"Because our father left me something, too.""
