Chapter 6
Daniel told the driver to turn around.
Mom grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“We need to go to the apartment.”
“The police are already there.”
“Then we meet them.”
“Sophie is not walking into a crime scene.”
He looked at me.
Mom was right.
Daniel pulled out his phone.
“I have an apartment in Midtown.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“No.”
“Someone broke into your home and specifically stole documents involving Sophie.”
“And your solution is moving us into your home?”
“My solution is putting you somewhere with security.”
Mom laughed.
“Security controlled by the Whitmore family?”
“Controlled by me.”
“That distinction hasn’t exactly protected us so far.”
Daniel stared at her.
Then he nodded.
“Fair.”
Rebecca, seated in front, turned around.
“I have a suggestion.”
Mom looked at her.
“A hotel suite under my firm’s name.”
Daniel nodded.
“Good.”
Mom hesitated.
Rebecca said, “No one will connect it to either family immediately.”
“Okay.”
That afternoon, police photographed our apartment.
Mom went inside while I stayed downstairs with Daniel.
It was the first time we were alone.
He bought me hot chocolate from a corner café.
I didn’t drink it.
He didn’t pressure me.
For several minutes we sat without talking.
Then he said, “When I was eight, I hated hot chocolate.”
I looked at him.
“Why did you buy it?”
“Because every eight-year-old in movies likes hot chocolate.”
I almost smiled.
“That’s dumb.”
“It was poorly researched.”
“What did you like?”
“Lemonade.”
“I hate lemonade.”
“Already failing as a father.”
I smiled before I could stop myself.
His expression softened.
Then I remembered everything and looked away.
“Are you rich?”
He paused.
“Yes.”
“How rich?”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Very.”
“Like you have a pool?”
“Yes.”
“In Manhattan?”
“No. The pool is at another house.”
I stared at him.
“You have more than one house?”
“Yes.”
“That’s weird.”
He laughed quietly.
“I suppose it is.”
“Mom says rich people sometimes forget how normal people live.”
His smile disappeared.
“Your mom is probably right.”
“Did you forget?”
“Sometimes.”
I looked at him carefully.
“Did you really not know about me?”
“No.”
“If you knew, would you have come?”
He answered immediately.
“Yes.”
“How do I know?”
“You don’t.”
Again, he didn’t lie.
I stared at the cup.
“What if you get tired of me?”
Daniel’s face changed.
“What?”
“What if you like having a daughter now because it’s new?”
“Sophie—”
“People like new things.”
He leaned forward.
“You are not a thing.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
His voice became quiet.
“I can’t prove today that I’ll still be here next month or next year.”
My chest hurt.
“But I can show up tomorrow.”
I looked at him.
“And then the day after that.”
“You missed yesterday.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
“I don’t think you get those days back.”
“No.”
That was the moment I decided I might give him tomorrow.
Not forever.
Just tomorrow.
Mom came downstairs forty minutes later.
She looked furious.
“What?”
Daniel stood.
“The police said whoever entered knew exactly what they wanted.”
“Anything else missing?”
“Cash was untouched. Electronics untouched.”
“The medical records?”
“Gone.”
She looked at me.
“And something else.”
“What?”
Mom reached into her bag and pulled out a little velvet box.
Daniel stared.
“I thought you said something was stolen.”
“It was hidden somewhere else.”
She opened the box.
Inside was a tiny silver hospital bracelet.
The name printed on it had faded.
BABY CARTER.
Daniel’s face softened.
“Sophie’s?”
Mom shook her head.
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
Daniel slowly looked at her.
“Then whose?”
Mom sat on the apartment steps.
I sat beside her.
Daniel remained standing.
Mom held the bracelet between two fingers.
“I was pregnant with twins.”
Daniel stopped moving.
“What?”
My heart pounded.
“Twins?”
Mom nodded.
“You and another baby.”
“Where is the other baby?”
She started crying.
“I don’t know.”
Daniel stared at her like he hadn’t understood.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
Mom’s voice shook.
“The hospital told me he died.”
“He?”
“A boy.”
I felt dizzy.
“I had a brother?”
Mom pulled me against her.
“Yes.”
Daniel sat down hard beside us.
“What happened?”
Mom wiped her face.
“I went into labor early. There were complications. Sophie was stronger. The boy had breathing problems.”
“What was his name?”
Mom closed her eyes.
“Samuel.”
Daniel whispered it.
“Samuel.”
She nodded.
“I saw him for maybe thirty seconds.”
Daniel covered his mouth.
“They took him away.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“That he was going to neonatal intensive care.”
“And then?”
“A nurse came six hours later and told me he had died.”
Daniel’s face crumpled.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I thought you hated me!”
Her voice broke across the sidewalk.
People glanced toward us.
Mom lowered it.
“I had just lost one baby. Sophie was fighting to breathe. I had no one.”
Daniel looked destroyed.
“So the note meant Samuel.”
“Maybe.”
“What makes you think something else happened?”
Mom opened the velvet box again.
“There were mistakes.”
“What kind?”
“The hospital initially listed two live births.”
“That makes sense.”
“Later, Samuel’s record disappeared.”
Daniel frowned.
“What?”
“I asked for the death certificate.”
“And?”
“They told me it had been filed.”
“You never received it?”
“No.”
“Did you follow up?”
“For months.”
Daniel stared.
“And nobody gave you one?”
“No.”
“Why didn’t you investigate?”
“I was twenty-four with a premature baby and no money left for lawyers.”
His eyes moved to the bracelet.
“And your father’s people were still watching me.”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“How do you know?”
“I recognized one of them.”
“The man from Sophie’s school?”
“No.”
Mom looked at the building.
“Another man.”
Daniel pulled out his phone.
Rebecca joined us.
He told her everything.
Her expression changed immediately.
“No death certificate?”
Mom shook her head.
“I eventually assumed it was hospital bureaucracy.”
Rebecca looked at Daniel.
“We can verify a vital record.”
“Do it.”
Mom grabbed her wrist.
“No.”
Rebecca stopped.
Mom looked terrified.
“If Samuel died, I don’t want Sophie dragged through this for nothing.”
I spoke quietly.
“I want to know.”
Mom turned.
“Sophie.”
“He was my brother.”
She closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“What if he didn’t die?”
“That’s exactly why I don’t want you hoping.”
Daniel looked at Mom.
“We need facts.”
She stared at him.
Then slowly nodded.
Rebecca walked away to make calls.
Daniel looked again at the bracelet.
“Why keep it?”
Mom smiled through tears.
“Because it was the only proof I had that he existed.”
Daniel’s eyes turned red.
“He existed.”
Mom looked at him.
“Yes.”
That night we stayed in Rebecca’s hotel suite.
Daniel left after making sure security was stationed downstairs.
At eleven, Rebecca called.
Mom put the phone on speaker.
“I searched the city vital records index.”
Daniel was on another line.
“And?” he asked.
Rebecca hesitated.
“There’s a birth record for Sophie.”
Mom gripped my hand.
“There is also a birth record for a male infant born to Emily Carter six minutes earlier.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
“Samuel.”
“Yes.”
Mom whispered, “And the death certificate?”
Rebecca was silent.
My heart pounded.
“Rebecca?”
“There isn’t one.”
Mom stood.
“That’s impossible.”
“I checked state records too.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
Rebecca finally said:
“It means, legally, I have no evidence that Samuel Carter ever died.”
Mom dropped the phone.
Daniel’s voice came faintly through the speaker.
“Emily?”
She backed against the wall.
“No.”
I ran to her.
She grabbed me.
“No. No, no, no.”
Then Rebecca’s voice came through again.
“There’s more.”
Mom stared at the phone.
“I found a sealed adoption petition filed three days after the twins were born.”
Daniel went silent.
Mom whispered:
“Whose adoption?”
Rebecca took a breath.
“The child’s name was removed from the public index.”
She paused.
May you like
“But the attorney who filed it worked exclusively for Whitmore Industries.”
And suddenly the room felt colder than winter.
