Chapter 3 - THE CHILD WHO WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO EXIST
“If you're my mother, why did you let another woman raise me?”
Nicholas's voice was quiet.
That made the question harder to hear.
Elena Morgan stood before him, holding the old hospital photograph as though it were the only thing keeping her upright.
“I didn't want to give you away.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because I was nineteen, frightened, and alone. Your father had the money and the power to make every decision.”
Nicholas looked at Catherine.
“Did you know?”
His sister lowered her eyes.
“I found out when I was seventeen.”
Nicholas stepped away from both women.
For forty-four years, he had believed Margaret Caruso was his biological mother.
He remembered her reading beside his bed, kissing his bruised knees, and sitting through every school performance.
Now another woman stood before him claiming a place in his life.
“Margaret knew?” he asked.
Elena nodded.
“She knew before she married your father. She agreed to raise you.”
Nicholas closed his eyes.
That hurt more than anything else.
Not because Margaret hadn't loved him.
Because the people who loved him had decided he didn't deserve the truth.
Rebecca shifted painfully in her chair.
“Mom, what about the baby in the recording?”
Elena looked at her daughter.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
Elena couldn't answer.
Rebecca reached for the crutch beside her.
“Dad disappeared. We buried an empty coffin. You spent years telling me not to ask questions. And now I find out I had another sister?”
“You were nine years old.”
“I'm thirty-four now.”
Elena began crying.
Rebecca didn't move to comfort her.
Not yet.
Nicholas pulled out a chair.
“Start with the fire.”
Elena sat.
Her hands rested on her knees.
“Your father bought the old St. Agnes maternity clinic through one of his foundations. Whitaker managed it. He also controlled a network of private adoption agencies.”
Nicholas frowned.
“The foundation closed years ago.”
“Not before it hurt people.”
Elena explained that David Morgan had worked as a maintenance contractor for the clinic.
In 2001, he discovered records showing that several mothers had been pressured into signing away their children.
Some believed their babies had been placed temporarily.
Others were told their children had died.
Whitaker had collected money through charitable trusts supposedly created to protect those children.
David copied several records.
Then he confronted Vincent Caruso.
“Your father promised to investigate,” Elena said.
“Did he?”
“He told David to bring him the originals.”
Catherine turned toward the window.
Elena continued.
“Six days after Lily was born, our house caught fire.”
Rebecca's breath caught.
“Lily?”
Elena nodded.
“Your little sister. Her name was Lily.”
Rebecca covered her face.
She remembered the night of the fire.
The yellow ribbon her mother had tied in her hair.
Her father's red pickup parked near the kitchen.
The terrible smell of smoke.
And a man lifting her through a bedroom window.
She had always believed that man was a firefighter.
Now she wasn't sure.
“Where's Lily?” Rebecca asked.
Elena looked toward Catherine.
The silence answered before Catherine did.
Nicholas turned.
“You know.”
Catherine gripped the back of a chair.
“I know where she was taken.”
Rebecca stood so suddenly that pain shot through her bandaged foot.
“Tell me.”
“Rebecca, please sit.”
“Tell me where my sister is!”
Catherine's expression crumpled.
“Her name is Claire Mercer.”
Elena made a small, broken sound.
“She's alive?”
Catherine nodded.
“She's twenty-five. She was adopted by a couple named June and Henry Mercer.”
Rebecca stared.
“You've known this whole time?”
“I was told the placement was legal. I believed she would be safer away from Whitaker.”
“You could have told my mother!”
“I tried once.”
Elena looked up.
“No, you didn't.”
“I sent a letter in 2008.”
“I never received it.”
Catherine frowned.
She turned toward Owen.
“Whitaker handled the delivery.”
Owen said nothing.
Catherine slowly sat down.
For the first time, she seemed to understand how much control Whitaker had maintained over everyone involved.
Nicholas wasn't impressed.
“You threatened a woman with a sick child because you didn't want this discovered.”
Catherine wiped her eyes.
“I know what I did.”
“You don't get forgiveness because you're frightened.”
“I haven't asked for it.”
Rebecca looked at her.
“Then help us find Lily.”
Catherine reached inside her handbag.
She removed a small brown envelope.
Inside were photographs.
One showed a little girl with dark curls holding a birthday cake.
Another showed a teenager in a graduation gown.
The last showed a young woman outside a bookstore.
She had Elena's dark eyes and Rebecca's smile.
Her name, according to the picture's label, was Claire Mercer.
Rebecca touched the photograph.
“She's beautiful.”
Elena leaned forward.
“My baby.”
Nicholas examined the other pictures.
“Where did you get these?”
“I paid for updates through a private family services agency.”
“For twenty-five years?”
“After Margaret died, I kept making the payments.”
Rebecca looked at Catherine with renewed anger.
“You got to watch her grow up. We didn't.”
Catherine lowered her head.
“I know.”
Nicholas turned the latest photograph over.
A date had been stamped on the back.
September 28, 2026.
Less than two weeks earlier.
He passed it to Owen.
“Find the bookstore.”
Owen enlarged the digital photograph.
“There's something else.”
In the window behind Claire stood the reflection of a silver-haired man.
He wore a gray suit.
His left hand rested on the bookstore door.
On one finger was a gold ring with a black stone.
Thomas Whitaker.
Rebecca felt cold.
“He knows where she is.”
Catherine nodded.
“That's why he came back.”
Nicholas studied the photograph.
“What did he want from you?”
“The original adoption and trust agreement. The one your father kept.”
“Why now?”
Catherine hesitated.
“Claire's twenty-fifth birthday triggered a review of an old family trust. Whitaker needs her to sign a release before an independent accountant examines the account.”
Nicholas leaned forward.
“And the money?”
“More than seven hundred thousand dollars was originally placed in the account. With investments, it should be worth considerably more.”
Rebecca stared at her.
“My mother worked two jobs. I grew up wearing secondhand clothes. Lily was raised by strangers. And someone has been sitting on money that belonged to us?”
Catherine couldn't meet her eyes.
Nicholas opened his father's financial records.
He located the original foundation account.
It had been moved repeatedly between holding companies.
The latest balance was nearly $2.4 million.
The account was scheduled for an ownership review on October 12.
Two days away.
Nicholas checked the authorization page.
Thomas Whitaker still held signing authority under an old foundation agreement.
Owen frowned.
“Why would he risk coming here personally?”
Nicholas looked at the photograph.
“Because the original document could prove that money was stolen.”
“And if he destroys it?”
“He can claim Claire was legally adopted and voluntarily surrendered her rights.”
Rebecca touched the photograph again.
“What if she's already signed?”
Catherine reached back into her handbag.
Her fingers trembled as she unfolded a note.
It had been delivered to her that morning.
She placed it on the table.
There were only two sentences.
Bring me the original agreement by Sunday morning.
Otherwise, Claire Mercer signs in person, whether she understands what she's signing or not.
Nicholas looked up.
“Where is she now?”
Owen checked the bookstore address.
“Stamford. Connecticut.”
Rebecca reached for her crutch.
“Then I'm going with you.”
Nicholas glanced at her injured foot.
“You need medical care.”
“She needs her family.”
Elena quietly took Rebecca's hand.
For once, her daughter allowed it.
Nicholas looked at the three women.
A mother he'd never known.
A sister he'd watched being humiliated in his own home.
And another sister who didn't know any of them existed.
His father's secrets had already cost them twenty-five years.
He wasn't going to let them take another day.
Owen suddenly enlarged the photograph once more.
“Boss. Look at Whitaker's other hand.”
Nicholas leaned toward the screen.
The man's right hand held a white envelope against the bookstore window.
Written across it were three words.
CLAIRE MERCER — FINAL RELEASE.
May you like
And underneath, in red ink:
OCTOBER 12. NO EXTENSIONS.
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