Chapter 8 - REBECCA SLOAN
Rebecca Sloan was not my father's mistress.
That would have been simpler.
She was my half-sister.
Twenty-six years old.
Living in San Antonio.
Nobody knew she existed.
Not Mom.
Not Brandon.
Not me.
Grandpa discovered it through old business records and a confidential support agreement Dad had buried among vendor contracts.
When Samuel told me, I thought he had the wrong family.
“He has another daughter?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
That was a stupid question.
I corrected myself.
“When?”
“Before your parents married.”
I stared at him.
“Mom didn't know?”
“We don't believe so.”
Dad had been twenty-two.
Rebecca’s mother, Allison Sloan, had been nineteen.
They dated for less than a year.
Rebecca was born seven months before Dad met Mom.
According to the support agreement, Dad learned about the pregnancy late and began sending money privately after a paternity test.
He never established a public relationship.
But six years earlier, the monthly payments increased dramatically.
“Why?”
Samuel pushed a document toward me.
Rebecca had gone to medical school.
Dad paid tuition.
Apartment costs.
Insurance.
Living expenses.
I felt sick.
Not because Rebecca received help.
She was his daughter.
What hurt was the contrast.
He had stood in a restaurant and told me my education could be sacrificed.
Meanwhile he had quietly funded another daughter’s medical school.
Grandpa looked furious.
“Thomas told Emily to choose a cheaper university.”
I laughed once.
It sounded ugly.
Dad had said exactly that.
State school is practical.
Private universities are for people who don't understand debt.
Apparently debt only mattered when the daughter asking was me.
Mom learned that evening.
I wasn't present, but Aunt Melissa called.
“She smashed a lamp.”
“Sounds like Mom.”
“She wants a divorce.”
That surprised me less than it should have.
Then Mom called.
Her voice was terrifyingly calm.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I found out today.”
“Your grandfather knew?”
“Today.”
She breathed slowly.
“How much did he give her?”
I told her.
Mom began crying.
It was the first time I had ever heard her cry without anger attached.
“He said we couldn't afford to replace your trust.”
That sentence hit differently.
Dad had claimed there was no money.
But more than $300,000 had gone to Rebecca.
Mom had helped steal from me because she believed Brandon was the only secret crisis.
Dad had been hiding another entire financial life.
Then she said something I never expected.
“I was wrong.”
I went silent.
“About what?”
“You.”
One word.
Years of favoritism lived inside it.
Mom continued.
“I thought your father was protecting Brandon because he was scared.”
“He was.”
“No.”
Her voice hardened.
“He was protecting himself.”
The next morning, Dad asked to meet me.
I almost refused.
Grandpa said, “Go only if you want answers.”
I did.
Dad looked exhausted.
“Rebecca isn't a secret child.”
I stared at him.
“You hid her for twenty-six years.”
“I mean she wasn't a mistake I wanted erased.”
“Then why hide her?”
He looked down.
“Your mother gave me a choice before we married.”
My pulse changed.
“What choice?”
“She found out Allison was pregnant.”
I frowned.
“But Mom said she didn't know.”
“She knew about the pregnancy.”
Dad swallowed.
“She didn't know Rebecca was actually mine.”
That made no sense.
Then he explained.
When Mom discovered Allison was pregnant, Dad claimed the child belonged to someone else.
Mom believed him.
Dad married her.
Months later, a paternity test proved Rebecca was his.
Instead of confessing, Dad began paying support secretly.
“For twenty-six years?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“What else haven't you told us?”
His face changed.
That was when I knew Rebecca was not the biggest secret.
Dad leaned forward.
“The money in your trust wasn't originally meant only for college.”
“What does that mean?”
May you like
“Your grandfather created it because of something that happened when you were born.”
And for the first time, Grandpa’s obsession with protecting my money began to make sense.
