Chapter 6 - THE LETTER WRITTEN BEFORE I MET HIM
I read the letter twice.
Then a third time.
It had been written years before I met Ethan.
The handwriting belonged to his grandfather.
Claire,
You do not know me yet.
But one day you may marry my grandson.
If that happens, Margaret will try to convince you that you are destroying this family.
Do not believe her.
Ethan was raised to feel responsible for everyone.
That is his weakness.
She knows it.
Then came the sentence that changed everything.
Margaret has already stolen from the family trust.
Not thousands.
Millions.
I looked at Ethan.
“How much?”
He shook his head.
“I don't know.”
The letter explained that Margaret had secretly diverted trust money through several shell companies.
The money had been used to pay debts.
Political donations.
Private lawyers.
Luxury purchases.
And Madison's expenses.
But there was one final transfer.
$750,000.
Sent to Victoria Hale.
“For what?” Ethan asked.
I kept reading.
To purchase silence.
My hands trembled.
Silence about what?
The letter continued.
Your father knows.
Your mother knows.
But neither will tell you.
Because the money was connected to a child.
I looked at Ethan.
“A child?”
He stared at the page.
Then we heard footsteps.
Richard entered.
“I knew you'd find it.”
Ethan turned.
“Dad.”
Richard closed the door.
“There was a baby.”
I felt cold.
“What baby?”
“Your grandfather had another heir.”
Ethan stared.
“My grandfather had another child?”
“No.”
Richard hesitated.
“Your mother did.”
The room went silent.
Margaret had a child before Ethan.
A daughter.
She had given the baby up for adoption.
But the child had been named in the original trust.
That child was entitled to a portion of the estate.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Richard shook his head.
“We don't know.”
“What happened?”
“She disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Margaret paid someone to hide her.”
Ethan looked sick.
“Why?”
“Because she was entitled to more than Margaret.”
I stared at the letter.
The final paragraph read:
If Margaret ever discovers the child is alive, she will try to find her.
Not to reunite.
To silence her claim.
My heart pounded.
“Is she alive?”
Richard nodded.
“I think so.”
“Who is she?”
Richard looked at me.
“We have a name.”
He placed an old birth certificate on the desk.
The name was written clearly.
Rachel Hart.
I stared.
“Where is she?”
Richard's voice became barely audible.
“She lives in Nashville.”
I looked at Ethan.
“That isn't far.”
“No.”
“Then why haven't you found her?”
Richard swallowed.
“Because she's been looking for you.”
A knock came from the hallway.
Everyone froze.
A woman's voice called from outside.
“Ethan?”
He opened the door.
A woman stood there.
Late thirties.
Dark hair.
Tired eyes.
She held an old photograph.
“Are you Ethan Bennett?”
“Yes.”
She looked at me.
“Then you must be Claire.”
I nodded.
She raised the photograph.
“This is our mother.”
My blood ran cold.
It was Margaret.
But beside her was a baby.
The woman whispered:
“My name is Rachel.”
May you like
Then she added:
“And I have proof Margaret tried to have me killed.”
