Chapter 8 - My Mother's SecretI spent the night at Claire's house.
Emily was still missing.
Mark claimed she was “under medical supervision.”
I didn't believe a word he said.
At dawn, I called the police.
They opened an investigation, but because Mark claimed Emily was at a medical facility and no evidence of immediate harm had yet been established, they couldn't simply break down doors.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I called the oldest person in my mother's family.
My aunt Louise.
When I mentioned Dr. Sarah Vance, she went completely silent.
“You know her,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Tell me everything.”
“Rachel, some things are better left buried.”
“My daughter is missing.”
That changed her voice.
“She found you.”
“Who?”
“The woman in the photograph?”
“Yes.”
A long pause.
“Your mother trusted her.”
“For what?”
“Treatment.”
“My mother wasn't sick.”
“No.”
“Then why would she need treatment?”
Aunt Louise finally said:
“Because you were.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“Your mother was pregnant with you.”
“I know.”
“She was told you would be born with the same genetic condition.”
I felt cold.
“She never told me.”
“She was afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Of losing you.”
I sat down.
Aunt Louise continued.
“There was a research program. Your mother agreed to it because they promised they could prevent the condition from appearing in you.”
“Did it work?”
“Yes.”
I couldn't speak.
Then I remembered something.
My mother's old jewelry box.
After she died, I'd inherited it.
I still had it in storage.
I drove there.
Inside the box was an envelope I had never opened.
My mother's handwriting was on the front.
For Rachel, when she becomes a mother.
My hands shook as I opened it.
The letter was only two pages.
The first line destroyed me.
If you're reading this, they've probably found Emily.
I stopped.
My mother knew.
She had known this might happen.
She wrote that she had entered a study to prevent a hereditary disease.
The treatment worked on her unborn child.
Me.
But the researchers had discovered something else.
My genetic marker could be passed to my children.
She was told there was only a small risk.
She believed them.
Then, years later, she discovered the research company had been acquired by a larger corporation.
The project changed.
The descendants of participants were now being monitored.
She tried to pull out.
They threatened her.
Then she died suddenly.
The official cause had been a stroke.
But the last paragraph said:
Trust no document signed by Sarah Vance. Trust no promise made by the people who say they are protecting your child. Most importantly, never let Mark tell you he had no choice.
I stopped reading.
Mark.
My mother had mentioned my husband by name.
But I had married Mark seven years after my mother's death.
How could she have known him?
At the bottom was another line.
He came to me before you met him.
I dropped the letter.
My hands were shaking.
Then Claire walked into the room.
“What happened?”
I couldn't answer.
She picked up the letter.
Her face turned white.
“What?”
“My mother knew Mark.”
“That doesn't make sense.”
I showed her the signature.
Claire stared.
Then she whispered:
“Rachel…”
“What?”
“This letter was written twenty years ago.”
I looked at her.
“No.”
“It has a date.”
I turned the page.
The date was there.
My mother had written it two years before she died.
Before I met Mark.
Before our wedding.
Before Emily was born.
I felt sick.
My mother had warned me about him before I even knew his name.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman's voice said:
“Rachel, my name is Elena.”
My heart stopped.
“My name is not Elena,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
The caller paused.
“It's the name your mother used when she was hiding.”
I gripped the phone.
“Who are you?”
May you like
The woman said:
“I'm your biological mother.”
