Chapter 7: The Daughter Who Was Never Lost
Victoria's smile lasted less than a second.
But I saw it.
I saw the way her eyes shifted toward Margaret's name on my phone. I saw the sudden relief that softened her face before she remembered that my father was standing beside her.
And I understood something terrifying.
Victoria wasn't afraid of the truth anymore.
She was afraid that someone else might reveal it before she could control the story.
"Who is she?"" I demanded.
Victoria immediately looked away.
"Who is Margaret Ellis?"" Dad asked.
"You know who Margaret is.""
"I know she's your wife's former acquaintance. I know she finished Elena's dress. I know she apparently kept information about our daughter's birth for twenty-two years."" His voice hardened.
"What I don't know is why you look relieved when Emily receives a message saying Elena's biological daughter is alive.""
Victoria's mouth tightened.
"Because I finally know this nightmare might end.""
"What nightmare?""
She looked at me.
"Yours.""
The words struck like a slap.
I stepped toward her.
"My nightmare? You tried to take money from my inheritance. Samantha destroyed my mother's dress.
And now I find out that my entire birth may have been concealed from me. Which part of that nightmare are you claiming to end?""
Victoria's expression hardened.
"You think everything began with you. It didn't.""
"Then tell me what happened.""
She glanced at the street, where Paul Mercer and his associate were still waiting beside the SUV.
"Not here.""
Dad stepped between us.
"No more secrets. If you have something to say, say it now.""
Victoria laughed bitterly.
"You want the truth? Fine. Margaret wasn't just Elena's friend. She was there the night those babies were born.""
Dr. Rebecca Collins stiffened.
"That's impossible. Margaret wasn't hospital staff.""
"She didn't need to be. She was visiting a relative who worked in the maternity ward.""
Rebecca stared at her.
"How do you know that?""
"Because I met her there.""
The rain had stopped, but cold water still dripped from the awning.
I felt as though I were standing outside my own life, watching strangers rearrange every memory I had.
"Why were you at the hospital?"" I asked.
Victoria looked at me.
"Because I had given birth to a daughter.""
"And Mom had given birth to me.""
"That's what everyone believed.""
"What did you believe?""
She didn't answer.
Dad moved closer.
"Victoria, stop playing games.""
She looked at him with something like exhaustion.
"Fine. Margaret was the person who first told me the babies might have been switched. She said the hospital had made a terrible mistake. She said there were two little girls and two mothers, and that one of us had gone home with the wrong child.""
Rebecca shook her head.
"That isn't what the records show.""
"Then explain why Margaret kept contacting me!""
"Because she was trying to establish the truth," Rebecca replied.
Victoria gave a sharp, humorless laugh.
"She told me that Elena had taken my daughter home.""
My knees weakened.
Dad caught my elbow.
"Emily, sit down.""
"No."" I pulled away gently.
"I need to hear this.""
I turned toward Victoria.
"Are you saying you believed I was your biological daughter?""
She nodded.
"At first, yes.""
"And when you found out that might not be true?""
"I was told there had been an error.""
"By whom?""
"Margaret.""
I looked at the photograph of the note again.
The biological daughter of Elena Carter is alive, and she has been living closer to Emily than anyone realizes.
I thought about every person who had entered our house over the past three years.
Every friend of Dad's.
Every designer who had known Mom.
Every woman who had ever looked at me a little too long.
Then I remembered something.
Six months earlier, Margaret had called me after I received my final scholarship award. She had congratulated me and asked whether I still kept my mother's sketches in the fireproof safe.
I had thought it was a sentimental question.
Now I wondered whether she had been checking that the evidence was still there.
"Where is Margaret?"" I asked.
Victoria looked toward the road.
"Probably at her studio.""
Dad took out his phone.
He called Margaret twice.
Both calls went unanswered.
On the third attempt, someone picked up.
"Daniel?""
Margaret sounded breathless.
"Where are you?"" he demanded.
A pause.
"At home.""
"Don't lie to me.""
Silence.
Then she whispered, "Has Emily seen the message?""
I closed my eyes.
Dad's expression became frighteningly calm.
"Yes.""
Margaret began crying.
"Oh, God.""
"Margaret, we are coming to see you.""
"No. Please, Daniel. Not yet.""
"Why?""
"Because there's something you need to understand before you hear the rest.""
Dad looked at me.
I nodded.
He put the phone on speaker.
"Then explain it now.""
Margaret took a shaky breath.
"Elena's biological daughter wasn't raised by a stranger. She was raised by someone Elena knew. Someone she trusted.""
"Who?"" I asked.
Margaret went quiet.
"Margaret, tell me," I said.
Her voice broke.
"Her name is Claire.""
The name meant nothing to me.
But Victoria made a strangled sound.
Dad turned toward her.
"You know that name?""
Victoria shook her head.
"No.""
She was lying.
I knew it as surely as I knew the color of my mother's eyes.
"Who is Claire?"" I demanded.
Margaret answered before Victoria could speak.
"Claire Ellis. My daughter.""
For a moment, nobody moved.
Margaret continued, her voice shaking.
"I was pregnant when Elena was pregnant. We were both due within weeks of each other. I had a difficult delivery, and Claire spent several days under observation. During that time, I became aware of the confusion at the hospital.""
Dad's face tightened.
"You took Elena's biological daughter?""
"No!"" Margaret cried.
"I didn't know which baby was hers at first. I only knew that the hospital had made a mistake, and that the records were being changed.""
"Then why did you raise a child who might have belonged to someone else?""
"Because I was told the matter had been resolved. Because I was afraid. Because I thought if I kept quiet, no one would lose the child they loved.""
I stared at the phone.
"Does Claire know?""
"She knows something happened. She doesn't know everything.""
"Does she know I exist?""
Margaret hesitated.
"Yes.""
My heart twisted.
"How long?""
"Since she was eighteen.""
Three years.
For three years, another woman might have known that we were connected.
For three years, she might have looked at photographs of me and wondered whether the girl in them was her sister.
I pressed my fingers against my temples.
"Why didn't you tell us?""
"Because I was afraid of losing her.""
I laughed once, without humor.
"That's what everyone keeps saying. You were afraid of losing someone, so you decided I didn't deserve to know the truth.""
Margaret began sobbing.
"Emily, I never wanted to hurt you.""
"But you did.""
The words came out quietly.
Somehow, that made them hurt more.
Dad ended the call.
He stood beside me, looking as if the world had turned against him.
Then Samantha spoke.
"I know where Claire is.""
Everyone turned toward her.
She had been silent for several minutes, clutching the black notebook against her chest.
"How?"" Victoria demanded.
Samantha looked at her mother.
"Because I've met her.""
Victoria went pale.
"When?""
"At Margaret's studio. Last summer.""
I stared at Samantha.
"You knew there might be another daughter?""
"No. I knew Claire was important to Margaret. I didn't know why.""
"What did she look like?""
Samantha looked at me.
Then her expression changed.
"She looked like you.""
A cold sensation moved through my body.
"How much like me?""
"Enough that I noticed. Same eyes. Same smile. Same little mark near the left eyebrow.""
My hand flew to my face.
I had a tiny crescent-shaped birthmark near my left eyebrow. Mom used to tell me it looked like a brushstroke.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Samantha looked down.
"Because I was jealous of you.""
The honesty surprised me.
She swallowed.
"Margaret always talked about Claire like she was the most important person in the world. When I asked why, she told me Claire had been through a lot. I thought she was just being protective.""
"And you decided to destroy my dress instead?""
Samantha flinched.
"I didn't know about the baby switch then.""
"That doesn't excuse what you did.""
"I know.""
For once, she didn't argue.
She opened the notebook and turned to the final pages.
"There was something else in here. Something I didn't understand until tonight.""
She handed it to me.
A small photograph had been tucked into a pocket at the back.
It showed my mother standing outside a hospital, holding a newborn baby. Beside her stood Margaret, visibly pregnant, one hand resting on her stomach.
On the back, Mom had written:
Two mothers. Two daughters. One terrible mistake.
Beneath that, in a different ink, someone had added:
If the truth ever comes out, find the child who bears the silver crescent.
I looked up.
My father was staring at the photograph.
Victoria had stopped crying.
Her expression was no longer frightened.
It was furious.
"Give me that notebook," she said.
I stepped back.
"No.""
"Emily, give it to me.""
"Why?""
She lunged toward me.
Dad caught her wrist before she could reach the notebook.
"Don't you dare.""
Victoria struggled against him.
"You don't understand! If that notebook gets out, everything will be ruined!""
"What will be ruined?"" Dad demanded.
"Your marriage? Your reputation? Your little scheme to steal Emily's inheritance?""
Victoria twisted free.
"You think this is about money?""
"Then tell us what it's about!""
She stared at me.
For a moment, I thought she might finally confess everything.
Instead, she whispered, "Claire isn't the only person Margaret has been hiding.""
My blood ran cold.
"What does that mean?""
Victoria looked toward the SUV.
Paul Mercer was watching us through the open window.
Then she leaned close enough for only me to hear.
"Your biological mother isn't Margaret's daughter.""
I stared at her.
"But Margaret said—"
"Margaret lied.""
Victoria stepped away.
"Claire is someone else's child. And if you want to know who gave birth to you, you need to ask the woman who has been pretending to help you.""
Before I could respond, she turned and walked toward her car.
Dad started after her.
But I couldn't move.
Because the woman I had trusted to finish my mother's dress had just become the center of a mystery that seemed to grow more dangerous every time someone told the truth.
My phone buzzed.
A new message appeared.
This time, it came from a saved contact.
Margaret Ellis.
Emily, don't believe Victoria. Come to my studio alone. I have the original birth records, and I can prove which baby was yours.
A second message followed.
But you must come before midnight. Claire has already found out what Samantha did, and she's on her way to your house.
I looked at Dad.
He was reading over my shoulder.
Then he took my phone and called the police.
"Nobody is going anywhere alone," he said.
For the first time that night, I felt safe enough to breathe.
But when we returned home, a single white rose had been placed on my front doorstep.
Beneath it was a note.
Emily, if you want to know who your real mother is, ask your father what he signed the day you came home from the hospital.
I looked at Dad.
May you like
He read the note.
And the expression on his face told me that, after twenty-two years, he finally remembered.
