Chapter 5
I read the journals through the night.
Lily slept beside me, her small chest rising and falling, while I learned the truth about the woman who’d tried to kill me.
Margaret had started writing them the day Ethan was born. The first ones were normal—new mom stuff, cute stories, worries about his health. But when Ethan was five, the tone changed.
Richard, Ethan’s dad, had been cheating on her.
With my mom.
I stopped reading, my hands shaking.
My mom had died when I was ten. Car crash. I’d never known who my dad was—she’d never told me, just said he was a man who’d made a mistake and left.
I read on.
The affair had lasted three years. Richard had gotten my mom pregnant. With me. He’d planned to leave Margaret, move in with my mom, raise me and Ethan together. But then my mom got scared. She didn’t want to break up a family. She’d moved across the country, had me alone, never told Richard I existed.
Richard had gone back to Margaret. But he’d never stopped loving my mom. He’d spent twenty years looking for us, sending money anonymously, checking in through friends.
Margaret had known all along.
She’d hated me from the second I was born. I was the living proof of her husband’s betrayal. The daughter of the woman who’d stolen her husband’s heart.
And then, twenty years later, I’d walked into her son’s life.
Ethan had brought me home for Christmas our first year dating. Margaret had looked at me, and she’d known. I had Richard’s eyes. His smile. The same dimple in my left cheek.
She’d written that night: She’s here. Richard’s whore’s daughter is dating my son. She’s going to take everything from me. First Ethan. Then Richard. Then everything I’ve built. I won’t let her. I’ll destroy her before she destroys me.
She’d sabotaged our wedding—paid the caterer to cancel, spread rumors I was cheating on Ethan. She’d tried to make me miscarry by putting small doses of a fertility drug in my tea for months, hoping it would overstimulate my system and I’d lose the baby. When that didn’t work, she’d decided to kill me.
And the worst part.
The last entry, written the night before she pushed me down the stairs.
If the fall doesn’t kill her, the baby will. They’re half-siblings. Richard’s kids. If that baby is born with defects, everyone will find out. I’ll lose everything. I have to stop her. No matter what.
I dropped the journal. It hit the floor with a thud that woke Lily. She started crying.
I picked her up, holding her tight, like I could protect her from the words on those pages.
Half-siblings.
Ethan and I were brother and sister.
Our daughter was the product of incest.
The door opened. Ethan walked in, holding two cups of coffee. He saw my face, saw the journal open on the bed.
“You read it,” he said quietly.
I nodded. I couldn’t speak.
He sat down beside me. He’d known. Of course he’d known. He’d read the journals before he brought them to me.
“I called my dad last night,” he said. “He confirmed everything. He’s my father. And he’s yours too. He didn’t know about you until a year ago. Mom found out he was looking for you. That’s when she started planning the stairs.”
He paused, swallowing hard.
“I had a DNA test done last week. Before I went to get the journals. I needed to be sure.”
He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me.
Probability of half-sibling relationship: 99.97%.
I looked at Lily. Perfect. Healthy. So far.
“What if something’s wrong with her?” I whispered. “What if she gets sick? What if she has… problems?”
Ethan reached over and touched her hand. “The doctors did all the tests when she was born. The genetic screenings. Everything came back normal. She’s okay, Clara. She’s perfect.”
“But she’s our daughter,” I said, tears spilling down my face. “We’re brother and sister. We can’t be together. We can’t raise her like this. It’s wrong.”
“I know.” Ethan’s voice broke. “God, I know. I love you. More than anything. But you’re my sister. And that’s never going to change.”
A knock on the door.
Jade walked in, her face white. She held her phone out to us.
“You guys need to see this,” she said.
On the screen was a news article from the Boston Globe.
PREGNANT WOMAN FLEES HOSPITAL AFTER ASSAULTING ELDERLY MOTHER-IN-LAW. POLICE SEARCH FOR MISSING NEWBORN.
Below the headline was a photo of me, taken from the hospital security camera. And a quote from Margaret.
“I just want my granddaughter home safe,” she’d said, crying for the camera. “Clara is unstable. She needs help. Please, if you see her, call the police.”
The comments were already flooding in.
Monster.
Lock her up.
How could a mother do that to her own baby?
Jade looked at us. “Margaret’s already winning the PR war. And she’s got the police looking for you. We need to go public with the truth. All of it. The journals. The video. The DNA. Everything. Before she destroys you completely.”
I looked at Ethan. He looked at me.
We both knew what that meant.
If we told the world, everyone would know we were half-siblings. Everyone would know Lily was conceived in incest. She’d be labeled for the rest of her life. The daughter of a brother and sister. A freak.
But if we didn’t, Margaret would take her.
And we’d lose her forever.
Before we could answer, the hospital room door flew open.
A man in a leather jacket stood there, a camera hanging around his neck. A reporter.
May you like
He smiled when he saw us.
“Clara Bennett?” he said. “I’m from the Boston Herald. Care to comment on the charges against you? And is it true you and your husband are actually related?”
