Chapter 7 - THE SISTER I HAD NEVER MET
“My sister is waiting?”
The older kitchen worker nodded.
“She's in the preparation room. She told me to find the woman wearing the diamond locket.”
My legs barely worked.
Alexander approached immediately.
“I'm coming.”
The woman hesitated.
“She said Claire should come alone.”
“Eleanor doesn't get to disappear from me again,” he replied.
I looked at him.
“She's been running from people inside your home for two years. Maybe you should let her decide when she feels safe.”
He stopped.
Then slowly nodded.
“You're right.”
I handed Oliver to his father.
The baby stirred, reaching toward my necklace.
“I'll be back,” I whispered.
I followed the woman through the service corridor.
The ballroom noise faded behind us.
The kitchen smelled of roasted vegetables, coffee, and warm bread.
Workers moved between stainless-steel counters, pretending not to notice the extraordinary tension coming from the wedding hall.
At the far end, a woman stood beside a storage shelf.
She wore a white kitchen jacket and a gray scarf.
Her back was to me.
“Anne?” the older worker called.
The woman turned.
I stopped breathing.
It was like looking into a mirror.
My eyes.
My cheekbones.
The tiny dimple beside my mouth.
But her face was thinner than mine.
A faint scar crossed her left eyebrow.
And there was something in her expression I recognized immediately.
Not because I'd seen it before.
Because I'd felt it.
The fear of being unwanted.
“Claire?”
Her voice broke on my name.
I couldn't speak.
She took one uncertain step toward me.
“I'm Eleanor.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“I know.”
For several seconds, we simply stared at each other.
Then she reached for my hand.
Her fingers were cold.
“I've imagined meeting you a thousand times.”
I started crying.
“Why didn't you?”
She lowered her eyes.
“Because every time I came close, somebody reminded me what could happen to you.”
I pulled her into my arms.
She held me so tightly that I felt her trembling.
I'd spent twenty-six years believing I was an only child.
And suddenly I understood why that belief had always felt strangely incomplete.
We separated when footsteps sounded in the corridor.
Eleanor looked toward the door.
“Is Oliver safe?”
“He's with Alexander.”
Her face changed.
“Is Julian nearby?”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“I was afraid he'd regain control before I found the records.”
I touched her arm.
“Eleanor, Alexander knows you're alive.”
She stepped backward.
“He knows?”
“He knows about Oliver, the accident, and the foundation.”
Her breathing quickened.
“What did he say?”
“That he signed the closure papers.”
She looked away.
“He signed them because he trusted Julian.”
“He says he didn't know.”
“I believe that.”
I stared at her.
“Then why didn't you trust him?”
She pressed a hand against the counter.
“Because not knowing wasn't the only problem.”
She explained that in 2024 she'd discovered families whose children had been placed through the Crown Foundation without proper judicial review.
She'd asked Alexander to suspend the program.
He'd promised to investigate.
Then he'd accepted Julian's explanation and signed the closure authorization.
“I begged him to meet one of the mothers,” Eleanor whispered. “Just one. He told me Julian had handled it.”
Her eyes filled.
“I loved my husband. But I couldn't make him look at something he didn't want to see.”
I understood.
Love didn't always protect people from the consequences of someone's choices.
“What happened at the bridge?”
She rubbed her injured leg.
“The brakes failed. I don't know whether anyone caused it. I got out before the fire spread, but somebody tried to intercept the ambulance. Victoria and Margaret helped move me to another hospital under a different name.”
“And Oliver?”
Her face softened.
“Alexander and I had frozen embryos before the accident. After I recovered, I chose to have one transferred while I was living under an alias.”
My throat tightened.
“You carried him yourself?”
She nodded.
“For nine months.”
“Then why did you give him up?”
“Because the people watching me discovered I was pregnant. I thought his father was the safest person who could protect him openly.”
She began crying.
“Victoria carried him into Alexander's house. Julian told Alexander a surrogate had delivered him. I watched from a parked car across the street.”
I reached for her.
“You could have told me.”
“I wanted to. But by then Julian had started using your name in the financial records. I was afraid he'd destroy you if I came forward.”
She opened a worn leather folder.
Inside were photocopies, handwritten notes, and a list of names.
“These are the placement records I recovered. The originals are still in the foundation's upstairs office.”
I scanned the pages.
My name appeared again.
CLAIRE BENNETT.
Receiving officer.
Authorized representative.
The signatures were nothing like mine.
Then Eleanor turned to the final page.
A new transfer order had been prepared.
The date was today.
The receiving location was listed as a private facility outside Washington.
And the child named on the order was Oliver Whitmore.
Eleanor's hand shook.
“They weren't planning to wait for an investigation.”
I read the scheduled transfer time.
9:00 P.M.
Then I looked at the clock above the kitchen door.
8:47.
Thirteen minutes.
Eleanor stared at me.
“Claire, Julian isn't just trying to destroy us.”
May you like
Her voice cracked.
“He's planning to take my son tonight.”
