Chapter 3 - OUR MARRIAGE WAS PART OF THE PLAN
Clara did not speak to me for the rest of the night.
Not because she blamed me.
That might have been easier.
She simply didn’t know what was real anymore.
Neither did I.
We had met at a charity auction nine years earlier.
At least that was what I remembered.
Clara worked for a nonprofit helping children aging out of foster care.
I spilled champagne on her notes.
She told me I was arrogant.
I told her she was rude.
We argued for twenty minutes.
I asked for her number.
She refused.
I donated fifty thousand dollars to her organization the next morning.
She called me furious because she thought I was trying to buy a date.
I fell in love during that phone call.
For years, that had been my favorite story.
Now I learned Victoria had approved surveillance of Clara three years before that auction.
Detective Hayes requested every Sterling Foundation record connected to our meeting.
By afternoon, we found the event guest list.
Clara had not originally been invited.
Her nonprofit received a last-minute invitation forty-eight hours before the gala.
The invitation came from Victoria’s office.
Clara stared at the document.
“She put me there.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I didn’t know.
Victoria did.
Her attorney had arrived, so she stopped speaking.
But Nora was willing.
Doctors examined her at the hospital.
Malnourished.
Dehydrated.
Muscle weakness.
But mentally alert.
When I entered her room, she stared at me for a long time.
“You look like Edward.”
“I’ve been told.”
“You sound different.”
“I hope so.”
She smiled sadly.
I sat.
“Why did Victoria put Clara in my path?”
Nora’s expression changed.
“She didn’t.”
“The invitation came from her office.”
“Edward arranged that before he died.”
My blood chilled.
“Dad knew Clara?”
“He knew Rebecca’s daughter existed.”
“Why would he want me to meet her?”
“Guilt.”
I almost laughed.
“Edward had guilt?”
“Toward the end.”
Nora explained.
My father became paranoid as he aged.
He knew people were collecting evidence.
Rebecca Bennett’s death haunted him.
Not enough to confess.
Enough to try compensating Clara from a distance.
He paid for her education.
Then he began imagining that if I married Clara, the Sterling family could somehow repair what it had done.
“That’s insane.”
“Yes.”
“He arranged our meeting?”
“He arranged for her organization to receive funding. Victoria arranged the invitation after Edward requested it.”
“So she knew.”
“Yes.”
“Did Clara know?”
“No.”
I sat back.
“Did Dad expect us to fall in love?”
Nora almost smiled.
“No. Apparently that part surprised everyone.”
For some reason, that mattered.
The meeting was manipulated.
The love wasn’t.
At least not entirely.
Then Nora told me why Victoria hated our marriage.
Rebecca had hidden something before she died.
A master ledger documenting every illegal Sterling Foundation payment.
Edward never found it.
He believed Rebecca might have left clues for Clara.
So when Clara entered my life, Victoria initially watched her.
Then Clara began asking questions about my family finances.
I remembered.
Two months before she vanished, Clara told me something was wrong with one of the foundation’s children’s housing programs.
I dismissed it.
I actually told her:
“My mother handles the foundation. She knows what she’s doing.”
The memory made me sick.
Clara had been trying to warn me.
I had defended Victoria.
“What happened the night Clara disappeared?”
Nora looked toward the door.
“I heard screaming.”
“You were downstairs?”
“Yes.”
“Who brought her?”
“Victoria.”
“Was Clara conscious?”
“At first.”
My hands curled into fists.
“Then?”
“A doctor came.”
“What doctor?”
“Dr. Malcolm Pierce.”
I knew him.
Our family physician.
The man who signed my father’s death certificate.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Hayes arrested Pierce that evening.
The evidence inside Sterling House gave police probable cause to question him about unlawful confinement.
He initially denied everything.
Then investigators showed him photographs.
He requested an attorney.
Meanwhile, Clara finally agreed to tell me what happened.
We sat in a hospital consultation room.
She kept the door open.
I sat across the room so she never felt trapped.
“I was going to surprise you,” she began.
“With what?”
Her eyes filled.
“I was pregnant.”
The world stopped.
“What?”
“Seven weeks.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“You were pregnant when you disappeared?”
She nodded.
For four years I had searched for my wife.
I had never known I was also searching for my child.
“What happened?”
“I found documents connecting the foundation to my mother’s fire.”
She wiped her face.
“I confronted Victoria.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was going to.”
Her voice cracked.
“She said you already knew.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
“She showed me documents with your signature.”
“Forged.”
“I know that now.”
“What did they say?”
“That I was being monitored because I had inherited my mother’s instability.”
My stomach twisted.
“She told me you were planning to have me committed.”
“No.”
“I believed her.”
“Clara, no.”
“She had your signature.”
“I would never—”
“I know.”
She started crying harder.
“I know now.”
I wanted to cross the room.
I didn’t.
“What happened next?”
“I tried to leave.”
“Victoria stopped you?”
“Graham Crane did.”
The name connected immediately.
Harold Crane had received money after Rebecca’s fire.
Graham was his son.
Victoria’s estate manager.
The man I had trusted with my home.
“They put me in a car.”
“Where?”
“Here.”
My chest tightened.
“You were inside Sterling House the entire time?”
“No.”
That surprised me.
“For the first year, they kept me at a private clinic.”
“Pierce?”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“Victoria moved me back after police stopped searching the estate.”
I felt physically ill.
“What happened to the baby?”
Clara looked down.
For several seconds, she couldn’t speak.
Then she whispered, “They told me I lost it.”
My heart broke.
“Did you?”
“I don’t know.”
I stared.
“What do you mean?”
“I woke up after being sedated. I was bleeding. Pierce told me the pregnancy ended.”
“Did you see medical records?”
“No.”
“An ultrasound?”
“No.”
“A hospital?”
“No.”
Clara’s eyes lifted.
“Julian, I never saw anything.”
I stood so quickly my chair scraped backward.
Not anger at her.
Terror.
The secret rooms contained medical records.
Children.
Guardianship documents.
My biological mother had been robbed of her child.
Was history repeating itself?
Hayes searched Pierce’s seized records.
Three hours later, he entered the room.
His expression told me everything.
“We found a delivery record.”
Clara stopped breathing.
“Delivery?”
Hayes sat.
“Approximately seven months after your disappearance.”
“No.”
Clara shook her head.
“No, I would remember.”
“The records indicate prolonged sedation and medically induced unconsciousness during portions of the pregnancy.”
Her face went white.
I gripped the table.
“Baby?”
Hayes looked at us.
“Male.”
My heart stopped.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Clara made a broken sound.
“Where?”
“That’s what we’re trying to determine.”
He placed a photocopy on the table.
INFANT MALE — CLARA STERLING.
Date of birth.
Three years and three months ago.
Then another line.
TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION.
Receiving guardian:
JULIAN STERLING.
I stared at my own name.
My signature appeared underneath.
Perfect.
Except I had never seen the document.
May you like
Someone had stolen my son.
And legally forged records claiming I was the person who ordered it.
