Chapter 7 - Three Daughters
Before Robert.
Before the respectable Vale family.
Marjorie and Jonathan had been together for nearly a decade.
Their first daughter was born when Marjorie was twenty-one.
Serena Claire Mercer.
Declared dead.
Three years later, Marjorie and Jonathan had Serena.
Two years after that, me.
Why did Serena carry Robert’s surname if Jonathan was her biological father?
Because Jonathan disappeared when Serena was five and I was three.
Marjorie married Robert two years later.
Robert legally adopted both of us.
Serena had spent thirty-five years believing Robert was her biological father.
She stared at him.
“You knew?”
Robert began crying.
“No.”
Unlike with me, he believed Serena was his.
Marjorie whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
He pushed away from the table.
“You lied to me every day for thirty years.”
“I loved you.”
“Apparently everyone thinks that sentence repairs paperwork.”
I almost smiled despite everything.
Then Walter asked a question no one wanted.
“If Rebecca was Jonathan and Marjorie’s first daughter, why did Jonathan create the trust only for Clara?”
Mom looked at Pike.
Pike answered.
“He didn’t.”
The original trust had three beneficiary slots.
Daughter A.
Daughter B.
Daughter C.
Names were added later.
Serena.
Clara.
And one sealed beneficiary.
Rebecca.
My supposedly dead older sister.
The trust was designed to divide equally among all three daughters once each reached thirty.
But Rebecca’s status remained unresolved.
Serena’s share had been quietly diverted into a separate trust years earlier.
She knew nothing.
I stared at my sister.
“You’re worth millions too.”
Serena looked at her fiancé.
He suddenly looked very interested.
She noticed.
Something about her expression changed.
Good.
Then we focused on Rebecca.
Pike had tracked her.
She had used at least four identities.
One was Clara Mercer.
Another:
Rebecca Sloan.
Another:
Emily Grant.
The fourth mattered.
Rachel Vale.
My surname.
Mom’s married name.
“Why use our family name?”
Pike didn’t know.
Then he revealed the biggest problem.
For three years, the money I thought I was sending Mom went into Raymond’s company.
But Raymond had not kept it.
Every dollar went elsewhere.
“Where?”
He slid across bank records.
Recipient:
R. VALE.
Seattle.
Serena stared.
“Rachel.”
The missing sister had been receiving my money.
I felt sick.
“Why?”
Pike said:
“Because she requested it.”
“You helped impersonate Mom?”
“Yes.”
Elise whispered:
“Raymond!”
He ignored her.
“Why would you do that?”
“To keep Rebecca talking.”
“So you stole from me.”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re consistent.”
He looked ashamed.
Then:
“She said if payments stopped, Jonathan died.”
Silence.
My father’s survival had apparently depended on me continuing to fund an extortion scheme.
Mom whispered:
“So that’s why Jonathan stayed hidden.”
Pike shook his head.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Because Jonathan wasn’t the hostage.”
I looked at him.
“Who was?”
May you like
Pike answered:
“Rebecca.”
