Chapter 7 - THE TRUTH ETHAN PAID TO HIDE
"Ethan knows?" I repeated.
Vanessa was still gripping my wrist when her doctor arrived.
She'd been examined upstairs after complaining of abdominal pain, and the physician had insisted she rest while they checked that everything was all right.
Fortunately, her vital signs were stable.
The baby appeared well.
The pain might have been related to dehydration and stress, but the doctor wanted her evaluated further if it returned.
I stood beside the bed while Ethan waited near the doorway.
Vanessa looked at him.
"Tell her."
He didn't move.
"Tell her, Ethan."
His face was unreadable.
For the first time since I'd met him, I couldn't tell whether he was angry, frightened, or ashamed.
"Claire," he said quietly, "there are things I should have told you before the divorce."
I folded my arms.
"That's becoming a popular sentence in this house."
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Ethan stepped into the hallway.
"Come with me."
I looked at her.
"Will you be all right?"
She nodded.
I followed him into his office.
The moment the door closed, Ethan went to the liquor cabinet.
I watched him pour whiskey.
"You know," I said, "when someone confesses a secret that could ruin their life, it's usually better to be sober."
He put the glass down untouched.
"Vanessa came to me three months ago."
"That's the story you told me."
"She was already pregnant."
I stared at him.
"How pregnant?"
"Thirteen weeks."
The room went quiet.
I thought about Vanessa's claimed twenty-two-week pregnancy.
Thirteen weeks at the time of her return fit.
But it meant she had conceived before reconnecting with Ethan.
"You knew the baby wasn't yours."
He didn't answer.
"Ethan."
"Yes."
I almost laughed.
Then I felt something much uglier.
Humiliation.
He'd looked me in the eyes and announced that another woman could give him what I supposedly couldn't.
He'd allowed Vanessa to insult me.
He'd watched me pretend to grieve over the end of our marriage.
And the entire time, he'd known.
"You let me believe you were that foolish?"
He looked away.
"I needed you to agree to the divorce."
"Why?"
"Because Vanessa was in trouble."
I stared.
"That's your explanation?"
"Her father owed money to men who don't negotiate."
"Then pay his debts."
"I did."
"Then why marry her?"
He looked exhausted.
"Because her father wasn't the only person in danger."
I thought about Margaret's warning.
The warehouse.
Daniel.
Rebecca's missing daughter.
"What did Vanessa give you?"
Ethan reached into his desk.
He took out a small black notebook.
Its cover was worn.
A brass clasp hung loose at the side.
"Daniel's accounts," he said.
I didn't touch it.
"From seventeen years ago?"
"Copies of transactions that passed through Blackwood Shipping."
"Why would Vanessa have them?"
"Because Daniel gave them to her before he disappeared."
I stared at the notebook.
"And you believed they were worth marrying her?"
Ethan's expression hardened.
"They contain names of men who helped my father hurt innocent people."
"Then take them to the authorities."
"Some of those men still control businesses in Chicago. Some work in government. Some have families who would be endangered if the information came out carelessly."
I folded my arms.
"You're not the only person capable of protecting people, Ethan."
"I know."
That surprised me.
He continued.
"Vanessa brought the notebook. She said someone had found out she possessed it and threatened to take her baby if she didn't hand it over."
I felt cold.
"Who?"
"She wouldn't tell me."
"Why?"
"She said it would be worse if I knew."
I stared at him.
"And your solution was to marry her?"
"It would put her under my protection."
"And divorce me?"
He looked straight at me.
"To put you outside the danger."
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I suddenly understood the entire performance.
"You made me look greedy so your enemies would believe I didn't matter."
His face tightened.
"Claire—"
"You let your first love tell me she was better than me."
"I know."
"You told me I couldn't give you a child."
"I never said that."
"You let her say it!"
He flinched.
"You're right."
I stepped backward.
For three years, I'd told myself I married Ethan for money.
That made everything simple.
I didn't have to admit that I knew how he liked his coffee.
Or that he quietly paid hospital bills for employees without putting his name on the checks.
Or that he once drove through a snowstorm to pick me up after my mother's final chemotherapy appointment.
I'd told myself money was enough.
But now I knew the worst part of his betrayal.
He'd decided my future without asking me.
Again.
"You could have told me."
"I thought you'd refuse to leave."
"Maybe I would have."
"Then you'd be in danger."
I looked him in the eye.
"You don't get to call control protection just because you're afraid."
He said nothing.
I took the notebook.
It contained columns of numbers, dates, and initials.
One entry caught my attention.
R.H. — 07/02/09 — child transfer.
I stared.
"Rebecca Hale?"
Ethan nodded.
"That's what I think."
Beside the entry was a payment.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
And underneath, another set of initials.
L.B.
Linda Bennett.
My mother.
I felt as though someone had kicked the air out of my lungs.
"Your father paid my mother?"
"Apparently."
"For what?"
"I don't know."
I remembered the years my mother spent working double shifts.
The overdue bills.
The winter she sold her wedding ring to keep our apartment.
Two hundred thousand dollars would have changed everything.
Unless she'd never received it.
I examined the entry.
There was a small mark beside the amount.
A circle containing the letter R.
"What's that?"
Ethan looked closer.
"Returned."
My pulse quickened.
"My mother refused the money."
He nodded slowly.
"That's what it looks like."
I turned the page.
Another entry appeared six months later.
L.B. — relocation expenses — paid through E.B. Foundation.
I stared.
"E.B. Foundation?"
"My mother's charitable trust."
"Your mother helped mine?"
"Apparently."
I closed the notebook.
For years, I'd believed my mother had been poor because nobody cared enough to help her.
Now I was beginning to understand that people had tried.
And that she had refused some of their money for reasons I'd never known.
"Where is Rebecca's daughter?" I asked.
Ethan looked toward the window.
"I think Vanessa knows."
"Then why hasn't she told you?"
"Because she made me promise not to look until we found Daniel."
My eyes narrowed.
"Found him?"
Ethan turned.
"Daniel is alive, Claire."
I stared.
"How long have you known?"
"Three weeks."
"Where is he?"
Ethan picked up the black notebook.
"That's the problem."
He opened the back cover.
Inside was a recent photograph.
A middle-aged man stood beside a teenage girl outside a bakery.
The man had a scar through his left eyebrow.
Daniel Mercer.
And the girl beside him wore a small gold necklace shaped like a bird.
Ethan pointed at the photograph.
"Daniel sent this to Vanessa."
"Why?"
"To warn her that someone had found Rebecca's daughter."
I studied the girl's face.
Something about her eyes felt painfully familiar.
Then I saw the sign above the bakery.
BENNETT FAMILY BAKERY.
My hands went cold.
Because the girl in the photograph was standing beside my cousin's shop.
And I knew exactly who she was.
"That's Lily," I whispered.
Ethan looked at me.
"Who?"
I raised my eyes.
"My cousin's adopted daughter."
Then I remembered the birthday card I'd received the previous month.
May you like
Lily had turned seventeen.
And she had recently started asking questions about her birth mother.
