Chapter 13 - Rebecca’s Daughter
I refused to believe him.
Then Rebecca refused to look at me.
That was worse.
“Tell me.”
We sat inside an FBI conference room.
Sophie slept nearby.
Thomas stood behind the glass.
Rebecca cried.
“Melissa was mine.”
The words did not fit inside reality.
“No.”
“I gave birth to her.”
“No.”
“Diane—”
“NO.”
Twenty-nine years earlier, Rebecca had been seventeen.
Pregnant.
Terrified.
Our parents would have thrown her out.
I was thirty-two, married to Thomas, and had suffered two miscarriages.
Rebecca hid the pregnancy.
I helped her.
Then everything became complicated.
She originally intended adoption.
When Melissa was born, Rebecca changed her mind.
Our father threatened to disown her.
Thomas suggested something else.
We would raise the baby.
I remembered adopting Melissa.
I remembered paperwork.
A private attorney.
A closed arrangement.
I had always known she was adopted.
But Rebecca’s identity had been concealed from me.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to.”
“For twenty-nine years?”
“I was ashamed.”
I stood.
“You sat at my daughter’s birthday parties.”
“I know.”
“You let her call you Aunt Rebecca.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that!”
History repeated itself.
Everyone knew.
Nobody spoke.
But this revelation created another problem.
If Rebecca was Melissa’s biological mother, why did Melissa share my rare genetic markers?
Agent Cole ordered testing.
The answer arrived the next morning.
Rebecca was indeed Melissa’s biological mother.
But Thomas was her biological father.
My husband.
My sister.
The room went silent.
I felt strangely calm.
Thomas had impregnated Rebecca when she was seventeen.
Then helped arrange for me to raise their child without knowing the truth.
Melissa had been my daughter in every way that mattered.
But the entire foundation of my marriage had been a lie.
I looked at Thomas through the glass.
He began crying before I entered.
I did not ask why.
There was no answer capable of repairing it.
Instead I asked:
“Did Melissa know?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Six months.”
That was why she had intensified her investigation.
The Mercer network had led her toward Harrison.
Harrison led her toward Thomas.
Thomas led her toward her own birth.
Melissa discovered everything.
And kept it from me.
Not because she did not trust me.
Her final letter explained why:
You are my mother. Biology doesn’t get a vote. I wanted to tell you after I ended this.
I pressed the paper against my chest.
Then Sophie walked into the room.
She saw me crying.
“Nana?”
I hugged her.
“Mommy left me a letter.”
Sophie nodded.
“I know.”
I pulled back.
“How?”
“Mommy said you’d cry when you found out about Aunt Rebecca.”
Everyone froze.
“Sophie, when did Mommy tell you that?”
She frowned.
“Last night.”
No game.
No planted clue could explain that.
Before anyone responded, the lights flickered.
Agent Cole’s phone rang.
Harrison was gone.
Somebody had attacked the transport vehicle.
Two officers injured.
Harrison escaped.
May you like
And the person who freed him had left one message written across the vehicle window:
DIANE IS NEXT.
