Chapter 6 - THE GIRL IN THE HOSPITAL
Nathan was arrested before sunrise.
But the story didn't end there.
Because the DNA report Serena had changed led us to a private hospital outside Baltimore.
Emily was there.
She was six years old.
When I entered the room, she was sitting beside the window drawing a picture of a house.
She looked up.
Our eyes met.
Something inside me broke.
She had my mother's eyes.
The same dark brown.
The same small crease between her eyebrows.
“Are you Maren?”
I nodded.
“Yes.”
She looked at Caleb.
“Are you Caleb?”
He smiled through tears.
“Yes.”
Emily looked down at her drawing.
“Mom said you were family.”
I sat beside her.
“She was right.”
Emily hesitated.
“Are you my sister?”
I couldn't speak for a moment.
Then I nodded.
“Yes.”
She smiled.
A tiny, uncertain smile.
“Do I have a family?”
I reached for her hand.
“You do now.”
Caleb turned away, wiping his eyes.
Later, Serena told us everything.
Our grandmother had discovered that my mother had secretly placed Emily under another family's protection after her birth.
She wanted to protect the child from Victor Hale.
But years later, the grandmother used Emily's existence as leverage.
She threatened to expose the secret unless my mother surrendered control of the family trust.
My mother refused.
That was when the first threats began.
The crash followed.
Nathan's father took control of the shipyard.
And Nathan was raised believing the company had been stolen from his family.
But the darkest revelation came from Dr. Porter.
She admitted that my grandmother had paid her to manipulate medical records.
She had helped Nathan obtain access to my health information.
She had also concealed the truth about Emily.
When confronted, she broke down.
“I thought I was protecting the family.”
“You were protecting money,” I said.
She cried.
But I didn't forgive her.
Not then.
Maybe not ever.
Some wounds didn't need forgiveness to heal.
They needed distance.
That evening, Caleb sat beside Emily while she colored at the hospital table.
I watched them.
For fifteen years, I had thought my brother was broken.
For years, he had thought he had failed me.
But now I understood.
We had both survived.
And for the first time, survival wasn't enough.
We wanted a life.
Then my phone rang.
The caller ID showed Nathan's attorney.
I answered.
His voice was unusually serious.
“Maren, there's something you need to know.”
“What?”
“The police found another document in Nathan's safe.”
“What document?”
“A death certificate.”
My blood ran cold.
“Whose?”
The attorney hesitated.
“Your mother’s.”
“But my mother died fifteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
He took a breath.
May you like
“That's the problem.”
“The certificate was issued two years before she supposedly died.”
