Chapter 11 - The Woman by the SeaThree hours later, I was sitting in my car outside a white cottage by the sea.
Daniel was beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
The ocean was gray beneath the winter sky.
I stared at the front door.
“What if she doesn't want to see me?”
“She does.”
“You don't know that.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“But I know you deserve answers.”
I got out.
My hand still hurt from the soup.
My cheek was swollen.
I walked toward the house.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I knocked again.
Then the door opened.
A woman stood there.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
Eyes that looked startlingly familiar.
We stared at each other.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Emily?”
My knees almost gave out.
“Mom?”
She began to cry.
I did too.
She pulled me into her arms.
For several seconds, I forgot everything.
The lies.
The slap.
The house.
The money.
I was three years old again.
And I had my mother.
Then she whispered:
“I am so sorry.”
I stepped back.
“Why did you leave me?”
Her face collapsed.
“Because I was told you would die too.”
“Who told you?”
“Peter.”
I froze.
“He found me after your father's death.”
“What did he say?”
“That if I spoke, you would disappear.”
Daniel entered.
My mother looked at him.
“You're Daniel.”
He nodded.
“I remember you.”
He went pale.
“You knew me?”
“You were there that night.”
“Yes.”
She closed her eyes.
“You were terrified.”
I sat down.
“Tell me everything.”
She made tea.
Her hands shook.
“Thomas discovered the accounts.”
She nodded toward Daniel.
“He had proof.”
“And Margaret?”
“She knew.”
“Peter?”
“He controlled everything.”
My mother looked at me.
“Your father wanted to expose them.”
“What happened that night?”
She swallowed.
“I followed him.”
“Why?”
“He had called me.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me to take you and leave.”
“Why?”
“He knew Peter was coming.”
I felt sick.
“My mother was there when he died.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see Peter?”
“Yes.”
“What did he do?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“He got out of the car.”
He approached Thomas.
They argued.
Then Peter struck him.
“Was he alive?”
“Yes.”
My chest tightened.
“What happened next?”
“Richard arrived.”
I stared.
“He tried to help.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“Peter threatened him.”
“With what?”
“Your life.”
My mother looked at me.
“He told Richard that if he went to the police, Emily would be next.”
Richard had been trapped.
My mother had been trapped.
Everyone had been trapped.
But then she said:
“There was someone else.”
I leaned forward.
“Who?”
“A young man.”
“Daniel?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Another man.”
“Who?”
She looked toward the window.
“Peter's son.”
Daniel stared.
“He had a son?”
My mother nodded.
“His name was Marcus.”
I had never heard the name.
“Where is he?”
My mother looked at me.
“He is dead.”
I waited.
“Then why does this matter?”
“Because before he died, he told me something.”
“What?”
My mother reached into a drawer.
She pulled out an old photograph.
Peter stood beside Marcus.
And beside Marcus was someone else.
A young woman.
I recognized her immediately.
Chloe.
Daniel's sister.
My blood ran cold.
“How?”
May you like
My mother whispered:
“Chloe was not Margaret's daughter.”
