Chapter 12 - The Father I Never KnewThe words didn't make sense.
They couldn't.
I stared at my mother.
“Say that again.”
She couldn't.
Nathan stepped toward her.
“Mom.”
She covered her face.
“My father is Edward Mercer,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Martin isn't?”
“No.”
The building filled with smoke.
Quinn pulled us toward the exit.
“We can do the family secrets later.”
I couldn't move.
“You knew.”
My mother cried.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“When Martin was gone.”
“He was never going to be gone.”
“I know.”
We escaped through a service corridor.
Outside, firefighters rushed toward the building.
Quinn turned toward my mother.
“Who is Claire's biological father?”
She looked at him.
“Daniel Park.”
Quinn froze.
I saw the reaction.
“Who?”
Quinn stared at her.
“My father.”
I looked at him.
“You're related to me?”
“No.”
He looked stunned.
“Your mother and my father had an affair?”
My mother shook her head.
“No.”
“Then how?”
She answered.
“Your grandfather arranged it.”
That sounded insane.
Until she explained.
“Edward knew Martin was infertile.”
Nathan went still.
“What?”
My mother looked at me.
“Martin believed you were his daughter.”
“But he knew Nathan was his.”
She shook her head.
“He believed both of you were.”
Nathan's face went pale.
“Then who is my father?”
She didn't answer.
“Mom.”
“I don't know.”
Quinn looked at Eleanor.
“You knew about this?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Edward believed Martin would eventually try to destroy every child he couldn't control.”
My mother's voice shook.
“He wanted one child outside Martin's control.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“Why me?”
“Because Edward believed you would become the trustee.”
I couldn't breathe.
My grandfather had spent twenty-six years planning around a man he knew was dangerous.
But the worst part wasn't my parentage.
It was the implication.
My father had raised me.
Protected me.
Controlled me.
And perhaps hated me.
All for something I didn't even know I possessed.
My phone buzzed.
A new message.
YOU KNOW NOW.
Another.
COME TO THE CLIFF HOUSE. ALONE.
Then a photograph.
My father standing beside Nathan.
Nathan wasn't in the present.
The photograph showed him at thirteen.
A bruise around his neck.
My father had been hurting him too.
The next message appeared.
BRING THE RING OR YOUR BROTHER LEARNS WHAT I DIDN'T FINISH.
Nathan stared at the screen.
“That photo was from the summer I disappeared.”
“What happened that summer?”
He looked at my mother.
“Dad locked me in the garage.”
My blood ran cold.
“Why?”
“Because I found something.”
“What?”
“A file.”
“What file?”
He swallowed.
“Your father's employee list.”
“What was wrong with it?”
“One name.”
“Whose?”
“Eleanor.”
We all looked at her.
Nathan continued.
“But Eleanor was listed as dead.”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“My brother found out about me.”
“And you?”
“I took him out of the house.”
Nathan stared.
“You saved me.”
“Yes.”
“Then why don't I remember?”
“Your father drugged you.”
Silence.
The truth was becoming a maze.
Every answer opened another door.
Quinn looked at me.
“Don't go to the cliff house.”
“I have to.”
“No.”
“He'll hurt Nathan.”
“He wants you isolated.”
“Then I'll take people.”
“No.”
I stared.
“You just told me not to go, now you're saying you will?”
Quinn's expression was hard.
“I'm saying you won't go alone.”
We headed toward the cliff house.
It had once belonged to my grandfather.
Now it stood empty above the Atlantic.
The door was open.
Inside, candles burned along the hallway.
My father waited at the end.
Nathan had never been there.
But he knew the room.
He whispered,
“That's where he kept the records.”
The room behind my father opened.
Walls covered with photographs.
Our family.
Every year.
Every birthday.
Every injury.
Every lie.
My entire childhood had been documented.
My father looked at me.
“You finally understand.”
I held up the ring.
“This ends tonight.”
He smiled.
“No.”
He pointed at the wall.
A photograph showed my grandfather holding a newborn baby.
A name was written beneath it.
Not mine.
Not Nathan's.
A third child.
ELEANOR MERCER.
I stared.
My mother whispered,
“That's impossible.”
My father smiled.
“My dear.”
He looked at me.
“Your grandfather had another child.”
Eleanor stepped forward.
She stared at the photograph.
May you like
Then whispered,
“That child is me.”
