Chapter 5 - The Second Name
I didn't open the message.
Not immediately.
I stared at the screen.
Daniel took my phone gently.
“Let me.”
I nodded.
He opened it.
There was another photograph.
This time it showed a man standing outside a building.
Older.
Bearded.
But the eyes were unmistakable.
The same eyes as the young man in the first photograph.
Daniel looked at me.
“This could be him.”
My mother whispered:
“No.”
I turned toward her.
“Why?”
She shook her head.
“That isn't Charles.”
Thomas stared at the photograph.
Then he whispered:
“It is.”
My mother looked at him.
“You're lying.”
“I saw him three months ago.”
My heart stopped.
“You saw him?”
Thomas nodded.
“He asked about you.”
“What did he say?”
“He wanted to know whether you had a son.”
My mother stood abruptly.
“Where is he?”
Thomas looked at her.
“You're asking now?”
“Where?”
Thomas didn't answer.
Daniel stood between them.
“Everyone sits down.”
His voice was calm.
But there was something in it that made everyone obey.
My son slept in my arms.
I looked at the photograph again.
“Why would Charles care about my baby?”
Thomas sighed.
“Because the family secret didn't die with your father.”
“What secret?”
He opened the folder.
Inside was a copy of a financial ledger.
Thousands of dollars.
Names.
Dates.
Transfers.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Margaret Reed.
My mother.
I stared.
“No.”
She whispered:
“I can explain.”
Daniel looked at her.
“Then explain.”
She closed her eyes.
“The money was protection.”
“For whom?”
“For my children.”
Thomas shook his head.
“You lied to both of them.”
My mother looked at me.
“I made choices I regret.”
“What choices?”
She looked at the baby.
“I gave Charles away.”
I couldn't speak.
“What?”
“When you were babies, your father wanted one of you.”
“Why?”
“He believed Charles could inherit everything.”
“And you?”
“I took you.”
My heart cracked.
“You took me and left him?”
“I thought I was saving you.”
“But he died.”
“I didn't know he was alive.”
Thomas said:
“You knew.”
She looked at him.
“I received one letter.”
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“What did it say?”
She couldn't answer.
Thomas pulled out another envelope.
My mother's handwriting was visible on the front.
My name was written across it.
I stared.
“That's mine.”
She shook her head.
“I never sent it.”
Thomas handed it to me.
I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet.
Emily,
If you ever learn the truth, don't trust anyone who tells you Charles is dead.
Your mother has been protecting the wrong person.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
My mother began crying.
“I didn't write that.”
“I know.”
Thomas looked at her.
“Because Charles wrote it.”
I looked up.
My heart hammered.
“He was alive when he wrote it?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
“Then who died?”
Thomas didn't answer.
Daniel looked at him.
“Who died?”
Thomas slowly closed the folder.
“A boy who was using Charles's identity.”
I felt sick.
“Why?”
“Because someone needed the world to believe Charles was dead.”
My mother whispered:
“My father.”
Thomas nodded.
“He was still alive then.”
My mother covered her face.
“Why?”
“Because Charles found the missing money.”
“What money?”
“The foundation's.”
Daniel looked at the ledger.
“How much?”
Thomas named a figure.
I stared at him.
“That much?”
He nodded.
“And Charles knew where it went.”
“Where?”
Thomas looked at my mother.
She whispered:
“My father gave it to someone.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
Then a voice came from behind me.
“I can tell you.”
I turned.
A man stood near the café entrance.
Older.
Bearded.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
My son stirred in my arms.
The man looked at him.
Then at me.
He smiled sadly.
“Hello, Emily.”
May you like
My mother screamed.
“Charles...”
