Chapter 4
Ethan stared at the attacker as if he had seen a ghost.
“What did you say?”
The man smiled through a split lip.
“You heard me.”
Harris tightened his grip on the man’s arm.
“Name.”
The attacker said nothing.
“Who hired you?”
Still nothing.
Ethan pushed himself up from the floor.
Blood ran from his nose.
“My father would never hurt Emily.”
The attacker laughed again.
“That’s what sons are supposed to believe.”
Harris shoved him toward the officers.
“Take him downstairs. Nobody questions him without me.”
As they dragged him away, the attacker twisted around.
His eyes found mine.
“Ask Richard about Caroline.”
Then he disappeared into the hallway.
I looked at Ethan.
“Who is Caroline?”
His confusion looked real.
“I don’t know.”
“Think.”
“I am thinking.”
“Your father knows her.”
“I’ve never heard the name.”
Dr. Reynolds checked the incision beneath my gown.
“You need to return to your room.”
“I’m not going anywhere alone.”
“You won’t be alone.”
“I mean without Ethan.”
Ethan looked at me.
For the first time since I entered his room, he seemed relieved.
Then I added, “Because I don’t trust him either.”
His relief vanished.
Twenty minutes later, hospital administrators moved us into a private secured wing normally used for high-profile patients.
Two officers stood outside.
Another sat near the elevator.
Ethan’s bed was rolled into the room beside mine.
We were ten feet apart.
It felt like ten miles.
Detective Harris returned after midnight.
He looked exhausted.
“The man who attacked you is named Victor Shaw.”
Ethan frowned.
“I know that name.”
“From where?”
“He worked security for Carter Medical years ago.”
“How many years?”
“Maybe fifteen.”
“Why did he leave?”
“I don’t know.”
Harris opened a notebook.
“He was fired after a female employee accused him of assault.”
I felt sick.
“Who was the employee?”
Harris looked at me.
“Caroline Bennett.”
The name landed heavily.
Ethan shook his head.
“I still don’t recognize it.”
“You were fourteen at the time.”
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared three weeks after filing the complaint.”
My skin prickled.
“Disappeared?”
“Police treated her as a voluntary missing adult. She was twenty-six. No body was ever found.”
“And Victor thinks Richard knows something.”
“Victor claimed Richard paid him to come here tonight.”
“Do you believe him?” I asked.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor lies as easily as he breathes.”
Harris placed his phone on the table.
“But sometimes liars tell the truth when the truth hurts someone else.”
He showed us a photograph.
Victor Shaw stood beside a black SUV outside our house.
The timestamp was from three days earlier.
A woman sat in the driver’s seat.
Even through the windshield, I recognized Margaret.
Ethan swore.
“So Mom hired him.”
“Likely.”
“Then why mention Dad?”
“To divide you.”
“Or because Richard really is involved,” I said.
Ethan looked at me.
“Emily.”
“Your father lied about leaving the country.”
“He had reasons.”
“You keep saying that about everyone.”
“That doesn’t make them criminals.”
“No. But twenty-two million dollars disappearing from your company, secret trusts, fake trips, attempted murder, and a missing woman are making your family look pretty criminal.”
He flinched.
I regretted the cruelty for half a second.
Then remembered Margaret’s hand across my face.
I didn’t take it back.
Harris pulled another paper from his folder.
“We identified the computer that accessed your medical record.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
“A terminal on the hospital’s administrative floor.”
“Employee?”
“The login belonged to someone named Laura Mills.”
Dr. Reynolds, who had been standing near the doorway, frowned.
“I know Laura.”
“Who is she?”
“Medical records supervisor.”
“Would she know Margaret?”
Dr. Reynolds hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
Harris checked his notes.
“She does.”
He showed us a social media photograph.
Margaret stood at a charity gala.
Beside her was Laura Mills.
Both women held champagne glasses.
The caption read:
Twenty years of friendship.
I closed my eyes.
“Of course.”
Ethan looked furious.
“My mother knew Emily was pregnant.”
“Yes,” Harris said.
“She knew before we left the house.”
“Likely.”
“And she planned everything.”
“We’re not ready to say everything.”
“What else do you need?”
“A motive.”
Ethan laughed bitterly.
“You have eighteen million motives.”
“Twenty-two.”
“What?”
“The amount missing is now closer to twenty-two million.”
“That transfer was controlled.”
“Explain.”
Ethan looked at me before answering.
“Dad and I discovered that money was moving from Carter Medical into Northstar Holdings.”
“Your mother’s company?” I asked.
“No. We couldn’t identify the owner.”
“So you signed another transfer?”
“To make whoever controlled Northstar think we hadn’t discovered the scheme.”
“You sent them twenty-two million dollars?”
“The transfer never actually completed. It moved into a monitored account.”
Harris nodded.
“That part checks out.”
I looked at Ethan.
One accusation disappeared.
A hundred remained.
“Who accessed the monitored account?”
“That’s where it gets interesting,” Harris said.
He slid a printed image toward us.
It showed a security camera frame from a bank lobby.
A man wearing a baseball cap stood at a counter.
My mouth went dry.
Richard.
Ethan looked shocked.
“No.”
“The account was accessed using Richard Carter’s credentials.”
“When?”
“Yesterday at 9:12 a.m.”
“Before our crash.”
“Yes.”
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
“Dad told me he was watching Northstar.”
“Maybe he was doing more than watching.”
I stared at Richard’s picture.
Every memory I had of him felt unstable now.
Quiet Richard.
Kind Richard.
Invisible Richard.
Maybe invisibility had been his greatest talent.
“Find him,” I said.
Harris looked at me.
“We’re trying.”
The door suddenly opened.
An officer stepped inside.
“Detective.”
“What?”
“There’s someone downstairs asking for Mrs. Carter.”
“No visitors.”
“She says she’s family.”
“I don’t care.”
The officer hesitated.
“She says her name is Sophie Bennett.”
Harris froze.
“Bennett?”
“Yes.”
He looked at us.
Then he stood quickly.
“Keep this room locked.”
“Who is Sophie?” I asked.
But Harris had already left.
Fifteen minutes passed.
Then thirty.
Ethan slept intermittently from the pain medication.
I couldn’t.
My phone had been returned to me.
It contained seventy-three missed calls.
My mother.
My sister.
Coworkers.
News reporters.
The crash had become public because the Carter name always attracted attention.
I texted my mother only four words.
Alive. Safe. Call tomorrow.
Then I saw a voicemail from Richard.
Timestamp: yesterday, 8:31 a.m.
Four minutes before Ethan and I left home.
My hands went cold.
I pressed play.
Richard’s voice filled the room.
“Emily, it’s Richard. I need to speak to you privately. Do not tell Ethan I called. Please call me before you leave for the hospital. It concerns your baby.”
I stopped breathing.
Ethan opened his eyes.
“What are you listening to?”
I replayed it.
His face changed.
“He called you?”
“I never saw it.”
“Why would he tell you not to tell me?”
“You tell me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Your father knew I was pregnant.”
“I told you, I don’t know how.”
I replayed the voicemail again.
It concerns your baby.
My baby.
Not the company.
Not the trust.
The baby.
Harris returned an hour later.
A woman followed him.
She looked about thirty-five.
Dark hair.
Pale skin.
Eyes swollen from crying.
She stopped when she saw Ethan.
“You look like him.”
Ethan frowned.
“Like who?”
“Richard.”
The woman turned to me.
“Emily?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Sophie.”
“Sophie Bennett?”
She nodded.
“Caroline was my mother.”
My breath caught.
“Your mother?”
“She disappeared when I was six.”
Harris closed the door.
“Sophie contacted police after seeing news of your accident.”
“Why?”
Sophie looked directly at Ethan.
“Because three days ago, Richard Carter came to my apartment.”
Ethan went still.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“What did he want?”
“He said someone was about to die.”
The room became silent.
“Who?” I whispered.
“You.”
My stomach tightened.
Sophie continued.
“He said he had spent twenty-nine years protecting the wrong person.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Why come to you?”
“Because of my mother.”
Ethan leaned forward.
“What did Dad know about Caroline?”
Sophie reached into her coat.
Harris watched carefully.
She removed an old envelope.
“My mother left this with my grandmother the week before she disappeared.”
She handed it to me.
Inside was a photograph.
Caroline Bennett stood outside Carter Medical.
Beside her was Richard.
And Margaret.
Caroline was visibly pregnant.
On the back, someone had written:
June 1997.
I looked at Sophie.
“You were born that year?”
“Yes.”
“Then your mother was pregnant with you.”
Sophie shook her head.
“No.”
My heart skipped.
“What do you mean?”
“She was already my mother.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She adopted me as a newborn.”
The room seemed suddenly colder.
Sophie pointed to Caroline’s stomach in the photo.
“That baby was someone else.”
Ethan’s face drained of color.
“Who?”
Sophie stared at him.
“According to the letter my mother left behind, Richard Carter was the father.”
Ethan whispered, “My dad had another child?”
“Yes.”
“What happened to the baby?”
“No one knows.”
Sophie’s eyes shifted to me.
“But that isn’t why Richard came to see me.”
“Then why?”
She took another document from her bag.
“He wanted me to give you this if anything happened to him.”
I unfolded it.
It was a DNA report.
Three names had been blacked out.
But one line remained visible.
Probability of biological relationship: 99.998%.
“What am I looking at?”
Sophie swallowed.
“A sibling test.”
Ethan stood as much as his injuries allowed.
“Between who?”
Sophie looked at him.
“Richard said one sample belonged to you.”
“And the other?”
“He wouldn’t tell me.”
I felt an awful certainty forming.
“No,” Ethan whispered.
Sophie nodded slowly.
“He said the other sample belonged to someone who had been living inside your house.”
I immediately thought of the staff.
Our housekeeper.
The gardener.
Ethan’s assistant.
Then my mind stopped on one person.
Someone who had stayed with us for almost two months.
Someone Margaret had insisted needed “family support.”
Ethan’s younger brother.
Daniel.
I looked at Ethan.
He was thinking the same thing.
“No,” he said.
Daniel had always been Margaret’s favorite.
Charming.
Reckless.
Thirty-one years old.
Constantly rescued by his parents.
If Daniel wasn’t Margaret’s biological son—
A phone began ringing.
Not mine.
Not Ethan’s.
Sophie reached into her pocket.
Her face went white when she saw the screen.
“Who is it?” Harris asked.
She turned the phone toward us.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
“Answer it,” Harris said.
Sophie put it on speaker.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice whispered:
“Sophie?”
She began shaking.
“Who is this?”
“Sophie, listen carefully.”
Ethan sat upright.
I recognized the voice from family dinners.
From holidays.
From my wedding.
Richard Carter.
“Dad?” Ethan shouted.
There was a sharp breath on the other end.
“Ethan?”
“Where are you?”
“Listen to me.”
Richard sounded weak.
Terrified.
“Dad, what is happening?”
“You need to get Emily out of that hospital.”
Harris moved closer.
“Richard, this is Detective Harris. Where are you?”
Richard ignored him.
“Emily?”
“I’m here.”
“Your mother-in-law didn’t act alone.”
I closed my eyes.
“Who helped her?”
Richard started coughing.
Then I heard a noise behind him.
A door opening.
“Richard?” I said.
His voice dropped.
“She knows about Caroline.”
“Who?”
“Margaret?”
“No.”
The line crackled.
Then Richard said the name I least expected.
May you like
“Your mother.”
The call ended.
