Chapter 12 - The Other Daughter
The caller's name was Claire Bennett.
She lived in Boston.
Forty-three years old.
Born on the same day as Fay.
Kathleen collapsed when she heard the name.
There had been twins.
Fay and Claire.
Victor learned Adrian was the father and threatened both children.
Kathleen and Vivienne separated them.
Fay went home with Patrick.
Claire went to a nurse who later moved east.
“You gave away my sister?”
Kathleen cried.
“I saved her.”
“You keep calling everything saving.”
The sentence ended the argument.
Claire came to Chicago.
Fay waited at the airport.
When Claire appeared, neither woman spoke.
They weren't identical.
But they shared enough.
Eyes.
Hands.
The way they pressed their lips together when trying not to cry.
Claire whispered, “Hi.”
Fay laughed through tears.
“That's all you've got?”
“I had a speech.”
“Me too.”
They hugged.
For the first time, a family revelation gave Fay something instead of taking something away.
Claire had a husband.
Two teenage daughters.
A quiet life.
No interest in Harwick money.
“I wanted a sister,” she said.
“You got the complicated one.”
“So I've read.”
Fay groaned.
“Please stop reading Chicago newspapers.”
Conrad liked Claire immediately because she embarrassed Fay.
Fay accused him of treason.
For several weeks, life almost became normal.
Then Claire discovered something among her adoptive mother's papers.
A safety-deposit key.
The box contained Vivienne's original evidence.
And one sealed document.
Conrad opened it with Fay's permission.
A trust.
Millions of dollars.
Legitimate money.
Set aside for Kathleen's daughters.
Fay stared at the amount.
“I don't want it.”
Claire agreed.
Conrad said, “Then don't keep it.”
They created the Kathleen Donahue Fund.
Housing assistance.
Women's shelters.
Job training.
Legal support for families trapped by coercive debt.
Fay insisted the fund carry her mother's name only after Kathleen agreed to work there anonymously for the first year.
“You don't get a statue for traumatizing me,” Fay told her.
Kathleen laughed.
It was the beginning of forgiveness.
Not the completion.
Conrad watched Fay transform the worst part of their history into something useful.
He had never admired anyone more.
One evening, he came home carrying a box.
Fay stared.
“No.”
“What?”
“We've discussed boxes.”
“This one isn't clothing.”
“If jewelry comes out, I'm returning you.”
He handed it over.
Inside was the original marriage contract.
Fay frowned.
Then noticed every page had been stamped VOID.
“What did you do?”
“Ended our agreement.”
Her chest tightened.
Conrad placed another document beside it.
Divorce papers.
Unsigned.
Fay went still.
“If you want out,” he said, “you leave with everything guaranteed in the original agreement. More, if you want it. No conditions.”
She stared at him.
“You want a divorce?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because the first time you chose me, you didn't really have a choice.”
Fay couldn't speak.
“I want to know what happens when you do.”
He walked away.
He actually walked away.
Fay remained beside the table.
She looked at the divorce papers.
Then the voided contract.
Then toward the doorway where Conrad had disappeared.
For the first time since meeting him, Conrad Harwick had given her complete control over whether he remained in her life.
Fay picked up a pen.
She signed one document.
Then she walked upstairs.
Conrad was standing by the bedroom window.
He turned.
Fay held the papers behind her back.
“Conrad.”
His face became unreadable.
She extended the document.
May you like
He looked down.
And saw which one she had signed.
