Chapter 3 - MARGARET
Margaret was found inside a small apartment on the north side of Chicago.
She didn't resist.
She was sitting beside a window when police entered.
She looked older than I remembered.
Her hair was completely gray.
Her hands trembled.
When she saw me, tears immediately filled her eyes.
“You look like your mother.”
I stopped.
“You knew my mother?”
Margaret nodded.
“Very well.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
She looked at my father.
Then at Daniel.
Finally, she looked back at me.
“Your mother knew about Thomas.”
“How?”
“They worked together.”
I frowned.
“My mother worked with him?”
“For a short time.”
“Doing what?”
“Trying to stop him.”
My father stepped closer.
“What did she discover?”
Margaret swallowed.
“Thomas wasn't just stealing money.”
“What else?”
“He was building a private network.”
“For what?”
“Control.”
She looked at Daniel.
“He wanted control of Carter Holdings.”
Daniel whispered:
“Why?”
“Because he believed the company should eventually belong to his children.”
“That makes no sense.”
Margaret shook her head.
“He believed wealth gave him the right to decide everyone's future.”
I thought about Evelyn.
The way she had ordered me beneath the table.
The way she had spoken about Daniel controlling the family.
The pattern suddenly became obvious.
The Carter family had never simply wanted money.
They wanted control.
Margaret continued.
“Your mother discovered that Thomas had created secret trusts.”
“For whom?”
“For the children.”
I froze.
“What children?”
Margaret looked at Daniel.
“Daniel.”
Then at me.
“You.”
Then she lowered her eyes.
“There was another.”
Daniel's face changed.
“Another what?”
“Another child.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“My mother had another child?”
Margaret nodded.
“A daughter.”
“Where is she?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“Then why have you never told us?”
“Because Thomas made sure nobody knew.”
My father looked furious.
“Why?”
“Because the girl was named as a beneficiary.”
“Of what?”
“The original Carter trust.”
Daniel stared.
“So there were three beneficiaries?”
Margaret shook her head.
“Four.”
Silence filled the room.
“Four?”
“Yes.”
I sat down.
“How many children did my mother have?”
Margaret whispered:
“Four.”
I felt dizzy.
Daniel.
Me.
Another sister.
And another child.
Who was the fourth?
Margaret wouldn't answer.
Then she looked toward me.
“Your mother tried to protect all of you.”
“From Thomas?”
“From everyone.”
I stared at her.
“What happened to the other children?”
“One was taken.”
“Who?”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“Your sister.”
I stood.
“What was her name?”
“Claire.”
Daniel whispered:
“Claire.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But Margaret continued.
“She was raised under another name.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Marcus interrupted.
“We do.”
Everyone turned.
He held up a file.
“Claire Bennett.”
Margaret covered her mouth.
Marcus continued.
“She lives in Wisconsin.”
I looked at my father.
“Take me there.”
We drove through the night.
Daniel came with us.
So did Marcus.
The snow became heavier as we left Chicago.
No one spoke much.
Daniel sat beside me.
After an hour, he finally said:
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
He looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because if you knew, you'd have tried to control me.”
He smiled sadly.
“That's fair.”
I looked out the window.
“Daniel.”
“Yes?”
“Did you ever love me?”
He was silent for a long time.
“Yes.”
“Even while you were betraying me?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
His voice cracked.
“I was weak.”
I shook my head.
“You were selfish.”
“Yes.”
“And afraid.”
“Yes.”
“But not innocent.”
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Good.”
He nodded.
“I don't want you to forgive me.”
“Why?”
“Because forgiveness without consequences would make what I did meaningless.”
I looked away.
For the first time, I understood that our marriage was truly over.
Not because of the divorce papers.
Because the man I loved no longer existed in my mind.
There was only a stranger who had once worn his face.
We arrived at Claire's house just before dawn.
She opened the door wearing a sweater.
She was about my age.
Brown hair.
Green eyes.
A small scar above her eyebrow.
She stared at me.
I stared at her.
Neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered:
“Emily?”
My breath caught.
“Yes.”
May you like
She began crying.
“I've been waiting for you.”
