Chapter 5 - Fourteen Missing Years
I forgot how to breathe.
The room disappeared.
Charles.
Richard.
Preston.
The wire beneath my dress.
All of it vanished.
There was only the man standing in the hidden doorway.
“Dad?”
His face broke.
“My girl.”
I crossed the room.
Then stopped.
Fourteen years.
Fourteen birthdays.
Fourteen Christmases.
My graduation.
My wedding.
My pregnancy.
Every milestone he had missed stood between us.
“Is it really you?”
“Yes.”
I touched his face.
Warm.
Real.
He covered my hand with his.
“I’m sorry.”
I hit him.
Not hard.
A flat palm against his chest.
“You were alive.”
“I know.”
“You were alive!”
“I know.”
I hit him again.
Then I collapsed into his arms.
I sobbed like I was seventeen again.
He held me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Behind us, Charles said, “How touching.”
I turned.
My father straightened.
For a thin, damaged man, he suddenly looked enormous.
“Don’t speak to her.”
Charles smiled.
“You’re still giving orders.”
Dad looked at me.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“That seems to be the family motto.”
A tiny smile touched his face.
I cried harder.
Preston stepped closer.
“Mr. Mercer.”
Dad’s expression turned cold.
“You.”
Preston stopped.
“I deserve that.”
“You deserve worse.”
“Yes.”
Charles laughed softly.
“Everyone is suddenly so moral.”
I turned toward him.
“Why was my father hidden here?”
“He wasn’t.”
Dad answered.
“Not all fourteen years.”
He guided me toward a chair.
“I spent the first three in a private rehabilitation facility under another name.”
“Why?”
“Because after the crash, Richard panicked.”
Richard looked away.
Dad continued.
“He wasn’t supposed to kill me.”
I stared at him.
“Then what?”
“Scare me. Take the records. Charles wanted leverage.”
Richard whispered, “It went wrong.”
“You ran my father off the road.”
“I know.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“When they realized I was alive, Charles saw an opportunity.”
“What opportunity?”
“To find where I had hidden the evidence.”
My hand moved instinctively toward my belly.
“He kept you prisoner?”
“Not exactly.”
Charles smiled.
“Careful, David.”
My father’s eyes hardened.
“He controlled my medical identity. My accounts. My access to you.”
“Why didn’t you escape?”
“I did.”
“What?”
“Twice.”
The first time, Charles threatened my mother.
The second, me.
Dad learned that Harlan employees were watching our house.
Watching my school.
Watching Nathan’s hospital.
“He sent photographs,” Dad said. “You leaving class. Your mother grocery shopping. Nathan walking into surgery.”
I felt sick.
“So you stayed away to protect us.”
“I thought I did.”
“Where have you been?”
“For the last nine years? Moving. Collecting evidence.”
“You could have contacted us.”
“I did.”
Nathan’s face flashed through my mind.
The anonymous messages.
“The texts.”
“Some were mine.”
“Some?”
Dad glanced at Preston.
My husband lowered his eyes.
“The others were his.”
I stared.
“You sent me messages?”
Preston nodded.
“Today.”
“Why anonymously?”
“Because my father monitors my communications.”
Charles sighed.
“This mythology is becoming tedious.”
Dad turned on him.
“You killed Marianne.”
Vanessa’s voice suddenly filled the room.
“No, he didn’t.”
Everyone froze.
Then the front door opened.
Vanessa walked in.
Charles stared at her.
“You.”
She removed the wire transmitter.
“You trained me badly.”
“You ungrateful little—”
“My mother died because of you.”
“She died because she panicked.”
“She died because you ordered the annex locked during the fire.”
Silence.
That detail wasn’t in the files.
Dad looked at her.
“You found the fire records.”
“Yes.”
Charles moved toward her.
Preston stepped between them.
“Don’t.”
His father stared at him.
“You finally grew a spine.”
“Too late.”
“For Emma, certainly.”
The cruelty landed.
Preston didn’t defend himself.
Dad looked at me.
“What happened?”
I didn’t want to tell him.
Not there.
But he saw the bruise darkening along my side.
His face changed.
“Who touched you?”
Vanessa said, “I did.”
Dad stepped toward her.
I caught his arm.
“No.”
“She attacked you?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you protecting her?”
“I’m not. She’ll answer for it. But right now she’s helping.”
Dad stared at Vanessa.
She didn’t look away.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Dad’s voice was cold.
“Save it for a judge.”
“That’s fair.”
Sirens sounded faintly outside.
Charles looked toward the window.
For the first time, true fear crossed his face.
“You called authorities.”
“I called several,” I said.
His gaze sharpened.
“You stupid girl.”
“Woman.”
He looked at my stomach.
“Pregnant woman.”
“Even better.”
Richard moved toward the rear door.
Dad blocked him.
“No.”
Richard’s shoulders sagged.
“I saved your life.”
“You destroyed it.”
“I kept Charles from killing you.”
“You helped him erase me.”
“I loved Claire!”
There it was.
Fourteen years compressed into one pathetic confession.
Dad stared at him.
“You loved yourself.”
Richard flinched.
“You couldn’t stand that she chose me.”
“I protected her.”
“You made her a widow.”
The front door shook under a heavy knock.
“Federal agents!”
Charles backed toward the hidden passage.
Preston saw him.
“Dad.”
Charles stopped.
“Don’t make this worse.”
His father laughed.
“Worse? You handed your empire to a woman who married you for love.”
I looked at Preston.
He did not look away.
Charles continued.
“You had everything. You threw it away because you became sentimental.”
“No,” Preston said quietly. “I threw it away because I became you.”
The door opened.
Agents entered.
Everything happened quickly.
Charles was restrained.
Richard surrendered.
Vanessa raised her hands.
My father stood beside me.
Preston did not move until an agent told him to.
Then one of the agents approached me.
“Mrs. Harlan?”
“Yes.”
“We need to speak with you about the evidence you transmitted.”
“Okay.”
“And about your husband.”
I looked at Preston.
“What about him?”
The agent’s expression was unreadable.
“He may have committed federal crimes while attempting to hide the financial scheme.”
Preston nodded.
“I did.”
My heart sank.
“What did you do?”
He looked at me.
“I moved money.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
“Why?”
“To create a trail they couldn’t erase.”
“Illegal?”
“Yes.”
“You could go to prison.”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Another truth.
Another secret.
Before I could ask more, pain tightened across my abdomen.
I inhaled sharply.
Dad reached for me.
“Emma?”
“I’m fine.”
Another pain came.
Stronger.
Preston’s face changed.
“Emma.”
Then warmth spread down my legs.
I looked at the floor.
My water had broken.
Nathan rushed through the front door behind the agents.
He took one look at me.
“Hospital. Now.”
I grabbed his sleeve.
“It’s too early.”
“Thirty-one weeks is early, but babies are born safely at thirty-one weeks every day.”
Fear overwhelmed everything else.
“My baby.”
Preston moved toward me.
I looked at him.
He stopped.
He had finally learned.
He waited for permission.
Another contraction hit.
Hard.
I reached out.
Not because I forgave him.
Because I was terrified.
Preston took my hand.
We were rushed toward the ambulance.
My father followed.
My uncle followed.
Vanessa remained behind with investigators.
As the doors closed, I looked at the husband whose hand I was holding.
He whispered, “I’m here.”
I wanted to tell him that being there now could not erase when he wasn’t.
Before I could speak, Nathan looked at the monitor.
His expression changed.
“Emma, turn onto your left side.”
“What?”
“Now.”
The fetal heartbeat dropped.
Then dropped again.
Nathan reached for the emergency radio.
“We need an operating room ready.”
Preston squeezed my hand.
May you like
The monitor alarm began screaming.
And my daughter’s heartbeat disappeared.
