Chapter 4 - THE SISTER WHO HAD BEEN GIVEN ANOTHER NAME
“That's the envelope he tried to make me sign.”
The young woman behind the bookstore counter stared at the photograph Nicholas had placed before her.
Her voice was steady.
But her fingers trembled.
“My name is Claire Mercer. Who are you people?”
Rebecca stood beside the counter, her injured foot supported by a medical walking boot.
Nicholas had insisted that a physician examine her again before they left the mansion.
He had also arranged for Hannah to stay with Rebecca's trusted neighbor, Mrs. Dawson, with all her medications and emergency instructions.
Nothing about the trip felt safe.
But Rebecca couldn't have stayed behind.
“I'm Rebecca Morgan,” she said. “And I believe I'm your sister.”
Claire stared.
Then she laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the words sounded impossible.
“I think you have the wrong person.”
Elena stepped forward.
“Your name was Lily.”
Claire's face changed.
“Don't call me that.”
Elena stopped.
Claire looked toward Nicholas.
“Are you the man who owns Caruso Holdings?”
“Yes.”
“Then this is about the trust.”
Nicholas nodded.
“Partly.”
Claire crossed her arms.
“Mr. Whitaker said someone from your family might come looking for me. He said you'd try to convince me the adoption wasn't legal.”
Rebecca swallowed.
“What else did he tell you?”
“That my parents stole money from a foundation. He said signing the release would protect their house.”
June Mercer, Claire's adoptive mother, appeared from a small office behind the counter.
She was a sturdy woman in her late sixties with reading glasses hanging from a chain.
“Claire, honey, what's happening?”
“These people say I have another family.”
June looked at Elena.
Then her gaze dropped to the silver rose necklace.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh, dear Lord.”
Claire turned.
“Mom?”
June sat heavily on a stool.
“I hoped you'd never have to find out this way.”
The room went silent.
June explained that she and her late husband, Henry, had adopted Claire through a licensed agency in September 2001.
They had been told her birth family died in a fire.
“They gave us a blanket, a little coat, and a hospital bracelet,” June said. “Nothing else.”
Elena began to shake.
“The yellow blanket?”
June nodded slowly.
Claire looked between them.
“You knew?”
June's eyes filled.
“I knew there were gaps in the story. But I believed the adoption was legal.”
“Did you ever try to find my birth mother?”
“Yes.”
Claire stared.
June opened a drawer and removed a folder.
Inside were copies of letters she'd mailed to the adoption agency between 2009 and 2016.
Every response was nearly identical.
Birth family records sealed. Further contact not recommended.
Rebecca examined the signatures.
Thomas Whitaker.
He hadn't merely hidden Lily.
He had controlled every effort to find her.
Claire sank into a chair.
“Why would someone do that?”
Nicholas answered carefully.
“Because money was involved. And because your father found records someone wanted buried.”
Claire looked up.
“My father?”
“David Morgan.”
June covered her mouth.
“That was the name on the original application.”
Rebecca opened her handbag.
She removed the torn family photograph Nicholas had recovered from his office.
The picture showed David beside a red pickup truck.
Rebecca, nine years old, stood beside him wearing a yellow hair ribbon.
Elena held the baby.
Claire stared at it.
“That's me?”
Rebecca nodded.
“You were six days old.”
Claire touched the image of the little girl.
“And that's you?”
Rebecca's voice softened.
“Yeah.”
Claire looked at her for a long moment.
Then she whispered, “You look like me.”
Rebecca smiled through her tears.
“I was thinking the same thing.”
For the first time, Claire didn't move away when Elena approached.
But she didn't embrace her either.
“Why didn't you find me?”
Elena's eyes filled.
“I tried for years.”
“That doesn't explain twenty-five years.”
“No. It doesn't.”
Elena sat across from her.
“I trusted people who told me they could keep you safe. And after they took you, I was too afraid of what might happen to Rebecca if I challenged them.”
Claire studied her hands.
“I had a good childhood,” she said quietly. “Mom and Dad loved me. I don't want anyone telling me my whole life was a lie.”
Rebecca reached across the table.
“Nobody's asking you to stop loving them.”
June began crying.
Claire finally took Rebecca's hand.
Nicholas stepped away to give them privacy.
He approached Owen near the front window.
“Anything on Whitaker?”
“He contacted Claire's employer yesterday. Claimed she was involved in financial misconduct.”
Nicholas glanced back.
“She works here?”
“She manages the bookstore and helps June run an adult literacy program.”
“And he threatened her job?”
“Her reputation. Her mother's home. Everything.”
Nicholas's jaw tightened.
“Find out whether the release has been filed.”
Owen lowered his voice.
“There's something you should know. Catherine was paying the agency that sent those annual photographs.”
“I know.”
“But the agency closed in 2017. The recent photograph wasn't from them.”
Nicholas went still.
“Then who took it?”
“Whitaker's people.”
Catherine had believed she was keeping track of Claire.
In reality, Whitaker had been feeding her selected information for years.
Nicholas looked toward the young woman sitting with Rebecca.
He remembered how easily Catherine had controlled Rebecca using Hannah's medical needs.
Whitaker had been doing the same thing on a larger scale.
Keeping people frightened enough to obey.
Claire approached carrying a small cardboard box.
“Mom says these came with me.”
Inside lay a faded yellow baby blanket.
A tiny blue wool coat.
And a hospital bracelet.
Nicholas gently lifted the bracelet.
The printed words were almost gone.
But he could still read the foundation name.
ST. AGNES — CARUSO FAMILY.
Below it was a number.
081201-M2.
August 12, 2001.
The second Morgan child.
Rebecca touched the bracelet.
“We have proof now.”
Nicholas shook his head.
“We have part of it.”
Claire frowned.
“What else do you need?”
“Something proving who authorized your placement, where the trust money went, and why your father's disappearance was covered up.”
June opened the folder again.
“There was one other thing.”
She removed a photocopy.
It showed a receipt for the transportation of a newborn from St. Agnes to a private residence.
A signature appeared at the bottom.
Owen's expression changed.
Nicholas noticed.
“What is it?”
Owen didn't answer.
Nicholas took the receipt.
The signature belonged to an employee of Caruso Holdings.
A driver.
Owen Gallagher.
Nicholas looked at his security chief.
“You transported her?”
Owen stared at the floor.
“Boss, I can explain.”
Rebecca stepped toward him.
“You knew my sister was alive?”
“I knew a baby was taken somewhere safe.”
“For twenty-five years?”
Owen's silence was answer enough.
Claire backed toward June.
Nicholas felt an unfamiliar anger rising.
Owen had been beside him through business disputes, threats, and the worst days following Vincent's death.
He had trusted him with his life.
Now he wondered how many things Owen had hidden to protect his father's reputation.
“Tell me what happened that night,” Nicholas said.
Owen reached into his jacket.
He removed a photograph folded into four sections.
“I kept this because I couldn't live with what happened.”
He unfolded it on the counter.
The image showed the Morgan house burning in August 2001.
A red pickup stood beside the driveway.
Near the front door, a younger Owen Gallagher held a baby wrapped in yellow.
And behind him, unmistakable even through the smoke, stood a man wearing a gold ring with a black stone.
Thomas Whitaker.
Rebecca stared at the photograph.
Then her eyes moved to the driver's side of the red pickup.
A man's face was visible through the window.
May you like
She recognized him instantly.
“That's my father,” she whispered. “He was alive when they took Lily.”
