Chapter 4: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
The voice outside came again.
“Margaret.”
Older.
Deeper.
But unmistakably human.
Margaret pressed one finger against her lips.
“Don't say anything.”
I stared at her.
“You told me Thomas died.”
“He was supposed to.”
“That isn't an answer.”
Her eyes darted toward the door.
“Please.”
Another knock.
This time harder.
“Margaret, I know you're in there.”
I stepped backward.
The room suddenly felt too small.
My mind kept replaying the same sentence.
Thomas was dead.
Thirty-eight years.
Yet someone claiming to be Thomas was standing outside.
I looked at the old DNA report in my hand.
Sibling relationship: 99.98%.
I didn't even know whose DNA had been tested.
And now someone from that buried past had appeared at Margaret's door.
I whispered, “Who is he?”
Margaret's face had gone completely gray.
“He's the reason Richard died.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“He's the reason Evelyn disappeared.”
Another knock.
“Margaret.”
I grabbed her arm.
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“Open it.”
“You don't understand what he wants.”
“I think I deserve to know.”
She shook her head violently.
“If he knows you're here, he'll come after Emma.”
That was enough.
I stepped toward the door.
Margaret grabbed me.
“No!”
I pulled away.
“You already endangered my daughter once. I'm not letting you do it again.”
I reached the door.
Before I could touch the handle, someone spoke from the other side.
“Sarah.”
I froze.
He knew my name.
“I know you're in there.”
Margaret whispered, “Don't.”
I opened the door.
An elderly man stood on the porch.
He was perhaps seventy years old.
Thin.
Gray hair.
A deep scar ran from his right temple down toward his cheek.
But his eyes were sharp.
Very sharp.
He looked at me.
Then past me.
Then at Margaret.
“It's been a long time.”
Margaret whispered his name.
“Thomas.”
He smiled.
“That's what they used to call me.”
I felt my skin crawl.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
His smile disappeared.
“I know.”
“Then why are you here?”
He looked at Margaret.
“Because you opened the box.”
Margaret went rigid.
“What box?”
I turned toward her.
She didn't answer.
Thomas stepped inside.
I immediately moved between him and the hallway.
“You're not going anywhere near my daughter.”
He looked at me.
“I don't want your daughter.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want the truth.”
“So do I.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Then you're already in danger.”
He walked past me toward the study.
Margaret followed.
I stayed close.
Thomas stopped beside the desk.
“You found the report.”
I held it up.
“What is this?”
His eyes landed on the page.
For the first time, I saw genuine fear in his face.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your sister-in-law gave it to me.”
Thomas looked at Margaret.
“You promised me you'd destroy everything.”
“I couldn't.”
“You were supposed to.”
“I couldn't do it anymore.”
He slammed his fist onto the desk.
“Thirty-nine years, Margaret.”
She flinched.
“Thirty-nine years we kept them safe.”
“Safe?”
I stepped forward.
“You called it safety when you chained my daughter outside?”
Margaret looked down.
Thomas stared at me.
“You think Margaret did that because she hated Emma?”
“Didn't she?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because she recognized her.”
I frowned.
“Recognized what?”
“Her face.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Emma's face?”
Thomas nodded.
“She has Evelyn's eyes.”
I remembered Emma telling me that Margaret said she had Grandpa's eyes.
I felt sick.
“Who was Evelyn?”
Thomas looked toward the old photograph.
“My sister.”
“And the baby?”
His expression changed.
“Which one?”
My blood went cold.
“There were two?”
He nodded.
“Twins.”
“Daniel and who?”
Thomas didn't answer.
“Tell me.”
“Daniel wasn't one of them.”
I stared at him.
Margaret covered her face.
“No…”
Thomas continued.
“Daniel was born first.”
“Then who was the second baby?”
He looked directly at me.
“Emma.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“She carries the same mitochondrial line.”
“That doesn't make her Daniel's twin.”
“No.”
“Then what is she?”
Thomas looked at Margaret.
“Tell her.”
Margaret whispered,
“Emma is Evelyn's granddaughter.”
I stared at her.
The room seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“Your daughter is Evelyn's biological granddaughter.”
“But Evelyn disappeared forty years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And you said the baby was Daniel's twin.”
“I said there were two babies,” Thomas replied.
I looked at him.
“Then who was the second baby?”
He took a slow breath.
“Evelyn's daughter.”
My heart hammered.
“Evelyn had a daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“She never got to raise her.”
“Where is she?”
Thomas looked at me.
“You're looking at her family.”
I felt my knees weaken.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone changed the records.”
“Whose records?”
“Everyone's.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out an old envelope.
He handed it to me.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
A newborn baby.
A hospital bracelet was visible around the tiny wrist.
I read the name.
BABY GIRL CARTER.
Underneath it was a date.
The same date as Daniel's birth.
I stared at Thomas.
“Why were there two babies?”
“Because there were two pregnancies.”
I frowned.
“That doesn't make sense.”
“It will.”
He took another photograph from the envelope.
This one showed Evelyn standing outside a hospital.
She was pregnant.
Beside her stood Richard.
And behind them was Margaret.
But someone had written a date across the photograph.
Three months before Daniel was born.
I looked at Margaret.
“You were there.”
She nodded.
“I was.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn was my sister.”
I froze.
I had never heard that before.
“What?”
Margaret began crying.
“Evelyn wasn't Richard's sister.”
I looked between them.
“Then who was she?”
Thomas answered.
“My wife.”
I couldn't speak.
Margaret whispered,
“Evelyn was Thomas's wife.”
My mind struggled to catch up.
“Then why was Richard with her?”
Thomas looked away.
“Because Richard wasn't supposed to know.”
“Know what?”
“That Evelyn was pregnant.”
“With whose child?”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“Mine.”
I stared at him.
“Then why did Richard's name appear on the records?”
“Because Richard took the child.”
“What?”
“He believed the baby was his.”
Margaret interrupted.
“He didn't know about the second pregnancy.”
I looked at her.
“Second pregnancy?”
Margaret nodded.
“Evelyn became pregnant again.”
“With whom?”
She didn't answer.
Thomas did.
“Richard.”
The room went silent.
I felt a chill run through me.
“So Evelyn had two children.”
“Yes.”
“One with Thomas.”
“Yes.”
“And one with Richard.”
Thomas nodded.
“Daniel was Richard's biological son.”
I stared at the man who had supposedly died thirty-eight years ago.
“But you said Daniel wasn't one of the twins.”
“He wasn't.”
“Then where is the second child?”
Thomas's face became grim.
“That's the question everyone has been asking for almost forty years.”
“And Emma?”
“Emma is connected to that child.”
I shook my head.
“How?”
Thomas took another document from his coat.
This one was newer.
Much newer.
He placed it on the table.
I looked down.
It was a DNA genealogy report.
Several names were listed.
At the bottom was Emma.
My heart stopped.
One of the matches was marked unknown maternal relative.
Another was marked direct descendant.
And one name appeared repeatedly.
Evelyn Carter.
I looked at Thomas.
“Evelyn is alive?”
“No.”
“Then how can she match?”
“She died.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
I stared at him.
“Three years?”
Margaret looked away.
“You told me she disappeared.”
“She did.”
“But she wasn't dead.”
“No.”
“Where was she?”
Thomas didn't answer.
I felt anger rising.
“You've been lying to me since I walked through that door.”
“No,” he said quietly.
“We've been lying to ourselves.”
He pointed toward the DNA report.
“That's why your daughter doesn't belong here.”
I looked at him.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas's expression hardened.
“Because Emma is proof that someone in this family has been using a false identity for decades.”
My blood ran cold.
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he looked toward the window.
“She's coming.”
“Who?”
“The woman who knows where the second child went.”
I heard a car stop outside.
A door slammed.
Footsteps approached the porch.
Margaret's eyes widened.
Thomas whispered,
“We don't have much time.”
The front door opened.
A woman stepped inside.
She was in her late sixties.
Gray hair.
Black coat.
And around her neck was a gold heart-shaped necklace.
The same necklace from the photograph.
She looked directly at me.
Then at Thomas.
Then at Margaret.
And said:
“You weren't supposed to tell her.”
Margaret began crying.
I stared at the woman.
“Who are you?”
She removed her sunglasses.
Her eyes were exactly like Emma's.
She whispered:
“My name is Evelyn Carter.”
I couldn't move.
The woman everyone believed had vanished nearly forty years ago was standing in front of me.
Alive.
And she was looking at my daughter like she had been searching for her all her life.
Then Evelyn said six words that changed everything.
“Sarah, Emma isn't your daughter.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
Evelyn looked toward the hallway.
“No.”
May you like
She swallowed.
“She's mine.”
