Chapter 5 - MY SISTER’S SECRET
Rebecca disappeared that night.
Her apartment was empty.
Her assistant claimed she had gone to Boston.
No flight existed.
Her driver hadn’t seen her.
Her phone went dark.
By morning Morrison Dynamics was in crisis.
I called an emergency board meeting.
My mother attended.
She looked exhausted.
I placed Lauren’s evidence on the table.
“Did Rebecca know?”
Mother said nothing.
“Did she?”
“Yes.”
The room erupted.
“How long?”
“Years.”
I stared at her.
“Was she involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Stop saying that!”
My palm struck the table.
Mother flinched.
“I protected all of you!”
“You protected secrets.”
“You don’t understand your father.”
“Then make me understand.”
She finally did.
My father’s fraud had begun twenty years earlier.
Fake vendors.
Inflated contracts.
Kickbacks.
Offshore accounts.
Michael discovered it.
Rebecca discovered it later.
But instead of exposing it, Rebecca helped conceal it.
“Why?”
Mother whispered:
“Because your father promised her control of the company.”
I felt sick.
“He promised me the company.”
“Yes.”
“So he played us against each other.”
“Yes.”
After our father died, Rebecca inherited access to several hidden accounts.
She continued the scheme.
Lauren found it.
“Did Rebecca kill Lauren?”
Mother began crying.
“I don’t know.”
This time I believed she genuinely didn’t.
Detectives traced Rebecca to a private property in Connecticut.
By the time police arrived, she was gone.
But they found evidence.
Photographs of Lauren.
Her SUV.
Her daily schedule.
My sons’ preschool.
My house.
Then Detective Alvarez called me aside.
“There’s something else.”
She showed me a photograph.
A delivery truck.
The truck that struck Lauren.
It belonged to a company controlled through one of Rebecca’s shell corporations.
My knees weakened.
“You’re saying—”
“I’m saying your wife’s crash requires reinvestigation.”
The world narrowed.
Lauren had been murdered.
Not random.
Not fate.
Someone had taken her from us.
I returned home after midnight.
The house was quiet.
Annie sat on the kitchen floor with Jordan and Justin.
They were building something from wooden blocks.
Jordan saw me.
“Daddy!”
Both boys ran toward me.
I knelt.
They wrapped themselves around my neck.
I cried.
For the first time since Lauren died, I didn’t hide it.
“I miss Mommy,” Justin whispered.
“Me too.”
Jordan touched my face.
“Daddies cry?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because daddies get sad.”
Annie looked away, giving us privacy without leaving.
Later, after the boys slept, I found her washing cups.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s my job.”
“No.”
She looked at me.
“Not anymore.”
Her face fell.
“You’re firing me?”
“What? No.”
I almost laughed.
“I mean you’re not a housekeeper anymore.”
“What am I?”
I didn’t know.
The woman who had saved my sons?
The person who had exposed everything?
The only adult in my house they trusted completely?
“Stay.”
Her expression softened.
“As what?”
“For now?”
I looked toward the stairs.
“As someone they trust.”
She nodded.
Then:
“And someone you trust?”
The question caught me.
“Yes.”
The truth frightened me.
“Yes.”
Days passed.
Rebecca remained missing.
Then Annie received an envelope.
No postage.
It had been left beneath the windshield wiper of her car.
Inside was a photograph of her younger brother, Caleb.
Annie went white.
“You have a brother?”
“He’s twenty-four.”
The photograph showed Caleb leaving a construction site.
On the back:
LEAVE THE MORRISON HOUSE OR HE’S NEXT.
I immediately called police.
Annie grabbed her coat.
“I’m leaving.”
“No.”
“They threatened Caleb.”
“Which is exactly why leaving won’t protect him.”
“I can’t risk his life.”
“You think I’m letting you walk out alone?”
“This isn’t your decision.”
She was right.
I hated that.
“Then let me help.”
She looked at me.
“Why?”
The answer came too quickly.
“Because I can’t lose anyone else.”
Silence.
Annie’s eyes filled.
She looked away.
Caleb was placed under protection.
That evening the twins learned Annie might leave.
Jordan panicked.
“No!”
Justin grabbed her apron.
“Don’t go!”
Annie crouched.
“I’m not going anywhere tonight.”
Jordan looked at me.
“Daddy make her stay.”
My throat tightened.
“I can’t make Annie do anything.”
Jordan began crying.
I knelt beside him.
“But we can ask.”
Both boys looked at Annie.
“Stay,” Justin whispered.
Annie cried.
“I’ll stay.”
That night, for the first time, the twins asked me to put them to bed with Annie.
We read three stories.
Justin fell asleep against my shoulder.
Jordan curled beside Annie.
As we left, Annie whispered:
“They’re getting better.”
I looked back.
“So am I.”
Her eyes met mine.
Something changed.
Not romance.
Not yet.
Something more dangerous.
Hope.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Rebecca.
One sentence.
YOU’RE BLAMING THE WRONG PERSON FOR LAUREN.
Attached was a photograph.
My mother.
May you like
Standing beside Graham Vale.
Taken three days before Lauren died.
