Chapter 4 - THE BRACELET MY MOTHER NEVER TOOK OFF
“No.”
Mom said it before Arthur could.
“No. Don't look at her like that.”
Arthur's eyes stayed on me.
I pulled his coat tighter around my shoulders.
I didn't understand everything.
But I understood enough.
“You think Aunt Evelyn was my mom?”
My mother flinched.
“No, sweetheart.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Then explain the photograph.”
“I can't.”
“You can.”
“I said no.”
“Claire—”
“She is my daughter.”
The words cracked through the hospital room.
Mom reached for me.
I went to her immediately.
She pulled me against her side.
Her arm was weak.
Her grip wasn't.
“Ivy Sterling is my daughter.”
Daniel spoke quietly.
“No one's saying you didn't raise her.”
Mom looked at him with pure fury.
“Don't.”
Arthur held up one hand.
“Daniel, leave.”
“Arthur—”
“Now.”
Daniel left.
Arthur waited until the door closed.
Then he lowered himself into the chair across from Mom.
No threats.
No anger.
“Tell me what happened.”
Mom stared at him.
“You want truth?”
“Yes.”
“You won't like yourself afterward.”
“I haven't liked myself for years.”
Something in that answer reached her.
Not enough to forgive him.
Enough to speak.
“Evelyn came to me one night in November. She was seven months pregnant and terrified.”
Arthur's brow furrowed.
“November?”
Mom nodded.
“She'd been hiding outside Chicago.”
“From me?”
“From whoever was watching you.”
Arthur absorbed that.
“She wouldn't tell me who.”
“Because she didn't know.”
Mom looked at the star bracelet.
“She gave me this. Said if anything happened, I was supposed to protect the baby.”
I looked down at her wrist.
“You said Grandma gave you that.”
Mom closed her eyes.
“I lied.”
That hurt.
She felt it immediately.
“Oh, Ivy.”
“What else did you lie about?”
“Only things I thought would keep you safe.”
“That means a lot of things.”
I pulled away.
Mom's face crumpled.
Arthur stood, but he didn't come toward me.
He seemed to understand I couldn't handle another adult reaching for me.
Mom continued.
“Evelyn went into labor early.”
Arthur stopped moving.
“She gave birth to a girl.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happened to her?”
Mom's eyes filled.
“She lived.”
Arthur's voice was barely audible.
“My daughter lived?”
“For three days, I believed she did.”
Arthur gripped the back of the chair.
“Then?”
“The hospital said there had been complications.”
“What hospital?”
“St. Vincent's.”
Arthur's head snapped up.
“That wing closed fifteen years ago.”
“I know that now.”
His face changed.
“You didn't know then?”
“I was twenty-three. Evelyn insisted on going there because a doctor she trusted worked privately.”
Arthur looked sick.
“What doctor?”
“Dr. Samuel Pike.”
Arthur knew the name.
I could tell.
“Who is he?” Mom asked.
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
“He treated my father.”
Mom's expression sharpened.
“Your father?”
“He worked for my family.”
Mom slowly shook her head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Evelyn said Pike was independent.”
“He wasn't.”
A terrible silence filled the room.
Arthur walked to the window.
“That means she walked directly into a place connected to my family.”
“You see why she was afraid?”
“Yes.”
“No, Arthur. I don't think you do.”
Mom's voice grew stronger with anger.
“She loved you. But loving you put a target on her back.”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“I know.”
“You know now.”
That landed.
Arthur didn't defend himself.
I was still staring at the baby photograph.
“Was the baby me?”
Mom looked at me.
“No.”
She answered too quickly.
I noticed.
“So who was she?”
“I don't know.”
“But you said she lived.”
“For three days.”
“What happened after that?”
Mom looked toward Arthur.
“Pike told me the baby died.”
Arthur turned.
“Did you see her?”
Mom's silence answered.
Arthur's face tightened.
“You never saw the body.”
“No.”
“Did Evelyn?”
Mom looked down.
“Evelyn disappeared that same night.”
Arthur stared at her.
“You were told the baby died, and Evelyn vanished?”
“Yes.”
“And three days later Daniel told you Evelyn was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you disappear?”
Mom reached beneath her hospital gown neckline.
She pulled out a chain.
At the end hung a tiny gold key.
“I received this.”
Arthur came closer.
“A key?”
“With a note.”
“What did it say?”
Mom looked at me.
Then she whispered the words from memory.
If Arthur comes looking, run. Someone close to him already chose blood over family.
Arthur went still.
“Who sent it?”
“I never knew.”
He held out his hand.
Mom hesitated before giving him the key.
Arthur inspected it.
Small.
Old.
A number stamped on the side.
Daniel returned before anyone called him.
Arthur turned.
“I told you to leave.”
“I know.”
Daniel's face was grim.
“But you need to see this.”
He handed Arthur his phone.
On the screen was a scanned newspaper archive.
A photograph of St. Vincent's maternity ward employees.
Arthur enlarged it.
Dr. Samuel Pike stood in the center.
Beside him was a younger woman in a nurse's uniform.
My mother gasped.
“You know her?” Arthur asked.
Mom nodded slowly.
“She was there the night Evelyn gave birth.”
Arthur read the caption.
The nurse's name was Margaret Vale.
Daniel said, “She still lives in Chicago.”
Arthur looked at him.
“Where?”
“She runs a private children's home on the South Side.”
I frowned.
“A children's home?”
Daniel nodded.
Then he swiped to another photograph.
Recent.
A charity event.
Margaret Vale stood surrounded by teenagers and children.
On her neck was a thin gold chain.
Hanging from it was a small key.
Exactly like Mom's.
Arthur enlarged the image.
Stamped on Margaret's key were three numbers.
Mom's key was 217.
Arthur looked at us.
“Those keys belong to the same place.”
Mom's face went pale.
“Then whatever Evelyn hid...”
“May still be there.”
Arthur looked down at the photograph.
But I wasn't looking at the key anymore.
I was staring at the girl standing beside Margaret Vale.
She looked about seventeen.
Dark hair.
Gray eyes.
May you like
Around her wrist were three tiny silver stars.
The exact same bracelet as Mom's.
