Chapter 2 - A Lie Written in Ink
The hallway felt smaller.
The air grew heavy with the scent of motor oil and old wood.
Marcus took one step closer.
The crowbar hung loosely in his right hand.
"You're lying," I whispered.
"Read the line again," Marcus said.
His voice was dead and flat.
"Your mother gave birth to her in secret."
"My father died ten years ago!" I shouted.
"He couldn't be her father!"
"Your father didn't die ten years ago," Marcus said.
"He left."
"He was buried in St. Jude’s cemetery!" I screamed.
"I attended the funeral!"
Marcus shook his head slowly.
"You attended an empty casket service, Claire."
"Your mother paid the director to lie."
I backed away until my shoulder hit the doorframe.
The paper in my hand felt hot.
"Why would she do that?" I asked.
"To save the company," Marcus said.
"He stole three million dollars from the firm."
"He ran to Canada."
"And your mother hid the disgrace."
"What about Lily?" I asked.
"What about my daughter?"
Marcus looked down at the floor.
"Your real baby died in the hospital, Claire."
"Six years ago."
"During the storm."
The world tilted around me.
My knees buckled.
I grabbed the doorframe to keep from falling.
"No," I whispered.
"No, that's impossible."
"I held her."
"I held my baby."
"You held a child that lived for two hours," Marcus said.
"You were heavily medicated."
"Your mother brought this child from the cabin."
"She swapped them before you woke up."
I stared at him in horror.
"You knew?" I asked.
"For six years?"
"I found out three years ago," Marcus said.
"That's why I left."
"That's why I couldn't look at you."
"Every time I looked at that girl, I saw the lie."
"Then why did you come back today?" I demanded.
"Because the money is gone," a voice said from the stairs.
My mother stood on the top step.
She was holding a small black leather book.
Her hair was neat.
Her spine was straight.
She showed no fear.
"Your father came back last week, Claire," my mother said.
"He wants the girl."
"Why would he want her?" I gasped.
"Because he put the remaining accounts in her name," my mother said.
"Six million dollars in a trust fund."
"She has to sign the release when she turns eighteen."
"Or her legal guardian signs it now."
I looked between my mother and Marcus.
"You're both trying to take her from him," I said.
"We're trying to save ourselves," Marcus corrected.
"Your father threatened to ruin me."
"He said he would release the fake accident report I signed six years ago."
"I go to prison if that trust opens, Claire."
I looked down at the yellowed birth certificate.
The ink was faded.
The seal was raised against the thick paper.
I noticed something small near the bottom left corner.
A thumbprint.
A faint smudge of blue ink.
My mother had a distinct scar across her right thumb.
She had cut it on broken glass when I was ten.
The thumbprint on this paper had no scar.
The lines were clean and round.
This was not my mother's signature on the witness line.
It belonged to someone else.
"Where is the blue house, Marcus?" I asked sudden.
Marcus blinked.
His posture shifted.
"What?" he asked.
"Lily said she remembered the blue house," I said.
"Where is it?"
"It's nothing," Marcus said quickly.
"She's repeating things from television."
"It's the old caretaker's cottage near the lake," my mother said softly.
"It was painted blue five years ago."
Marcus glared at my mother.
"Shut up, Eleanor!" he snapped.
"He's staying there, isn't he?" I asked.
"My father is in that cottage right now."
Marcus lifted the crowbar slightly.
"You aren't going down there, Claire."
"We're settling this tonight."
"The lawyer is coming at eight."
"You're going to sign the custody surrender."
"We give the girl to David."
"He clears my name."
"He pays off your mother's debts."
"And you leave."
"And what do I get?" I asked.
My voice was quiet now.
The terror was turning into something cold and sharp.
"You get to walk away without charges," Marcus said.
"Charges for what?"
"The fire," Marcus said.
"Six years ago."
"The hospital records say you left the heater running in the nursery."
"You caused the power surge."
"You killed your own baby, Claire."
My heart stopped beating for a second.
"That's a lie," I whispered.
"I have the report right here," Marcus said.
He pulled a folded white paper from his jacket.
"Signed by the fire chief."
"It's been in my safe for six years."
"You sign the custody paper, or I hand this to the sheriff."
I looked at my mother.
She looked away.
She did not deny it.
"You let him frame me?" I asked my mother.
"It kept you out of prison, Claire," my mother whispered.
"We made a deal with the chief."
"They ruled it an accident."
I took a deep breath.
The air felt like ice in my lungs.
I looked toward Lily's room.
The little girl was standing in the doorway.
She was holding her small blue backpack.
She had drawn a red circle around her own hand.
"Mommy," Lily said quietly.
It was the first time she had called me that all day.
"Don't let the man take me to the water."
"I won't," I said.
I moved fast.
I grabbed the heavy walnut vanity mirror with both hands.
I pulled with all my strength.
The heavy glass fell forward.
It crashed onto the hardwood floor between Marcus and me.
Thick glass exploded in every direction.
Marcus jumped back, dropping the crowbar.
My mother screamed.
I grabbed Lily's hand.
"Run!" I shouted.
We sprinted down the back stairs toward the kitchen.
I grabbed my coat and my car keys from the counter.
We ran out into the pouring rain.
My old sedan was parked by the barn.
I threw Lily into the back seat.
I jumped into the driver's seat and locked the doors.
The engine roared to life.
In the rearview mirror, I saw Marcus running out of the house.
He was bleeding from a cut on his cheek.
He hit the hood of my car with his fist.
"Claire! Stop!" he roared.
I slammed the car into reverse.
The tires spun in the mud.
I backed up fast, hitting the wooden gate.
The gate splintered into pieces.
I shifted into drive and floored the accelerator.
The sedan shot down the dark gravel driveway.
Rain pounded against the windshield.
The wipers could barely keep up.
"Where are we going?" Lily asked from the back.
Her voice was trembling.
"To the blue house," I said.
"We need to meet your father."
"Is he a bad man?" she asked.
"I don't know yet," I said.
Ten minutes later, I pulled off the main road.
The narrow dirt track led toward the lake.
The trees were thick and dark.
At the end of the road sat a small wooden house.
It was painted dark blue.
A single light was burning on the front porch.
I parked the car behind an old pickup truck.
I turned off the engine.
The silence was deafening.
"Stay in the car, Lily," I said.
"Lock the doors."
"If anyone comes, blow the horn."
She nodded, holding her backpack tight against her chest.
I stepped out into the freezing rain.
My shoes sank into the mud.
I walked up the creaky wooden steps of the porch.
The front door was slightly open.
A faint smell of old tobacco and damp wood drifted out.
"David?" I called out.
"Dad?"
No one answered.
I pushed the door open.
The living room was small and dusty.
An old radio was playing quiet jazz music in the corner.
On the wooden table sat a fresh cup of coffee.
Steam was still rising from the mug.
Beside the mug was an open ledger.
Columns of names and numbers were written in dark ink.
I stepped closer to the table.
My name was written across the top of the page.
Beside my name was a date from six years ago.
Claire Vance — Paid in full.
Amount: $500,000.
Recipient: County General Hospital.
My mind raced.
My father hadn't stolen money.
He had paid the hospital.
I heard a heavy footstep behind me.
I turned around quickly.
A tall man stood in the doorway of the kitchen.
His hair was pure white.
He wore a dark raincoat.
His face was covered in deep wrinkles.
He looked at me with pale blue eyes.
"You shouldn't have come here, Claire," he said.
His voice was rough and raspy.
"You paid them to take my baby?" I demanded.
David took a slow step into the room.
He raised his hands slowly.
"I didn't take your baby, Claire," he said.
"I saved her."
"Saved her from what?" I yelled.
"From your husband," David said.
"Marcus didn't want a child."
"He set that fire himself."
I froze.
"What?"
"He set the fire in the nursery to collect the insurance money," David said.
"He was broke six years ago."
"I found out two hours before the fire started."
"I got the baby out."
"Then who died in the hospital?" I asked.
David looked down at the wooden floor.
"Nobody died, Claire."
"Marcus bought a dead baby's records from a corrupt doctor."
"He told you your child was dead so you wouldn't look for her."
"And my mother?" I asked.
"Eleanor helped him," David said.
"Because Marcus was blackmailing her with her own debt."
"Where is my real daughter, David?" I screamed.
David looked at me with deep sorrow.
He pointed toward the front window.
"She's sitting in your back seat, Claire."
"Lily IS your daughter."
My breath hitched.
"Then whose name is on the birth certificate?" I asked.
"The paper you found behind the mirror was fake," David said.
"Marcus made it to confuse you if you ever searched the house."
"He knew you would find it eventually."
A loud metallic crash sounded from outside.
The sound of breaking glass echoed through the trees.
May you like
A car horn began to blore continuously.
Lily was screaming.
