Chapter 3
The drive to Margaret’s estate takes twenty-two minutes.
Elena counts every second.
She sits in the back of the Rolls.
Staring out the window.
Not speaking.
Richard tries twice to say something.
Gives up.
Lila is next to Elena.
Pale.
Quiet.
She saw everything from the balcony.
All of it.
“Mom,” Lila says softly. “Who was that woman?”
Elena closes her eyes.
“Your aunt Vivian,” she says.
Lila’s breath catches.
“But—she’s dead. You said—”
“I was wrong,” Elena says.
She opens her eyes.
Looks at her daughter.
Lila has Elena’s eyes.
Vivian’s eyes.
The same eyes.
“She’s alive,” Elena says. “And so is Julian.”
Lila’s mouth opens.
Closes.
Julian.
The father Lila never knew.
The man Elena has described as perfect. Kind. The love of her life.
The man who died before Lila was born.
“He’s… alive?” Lila whispers.
Elena nods.
“And the boy?” Lila asks.
Elena looks away.
“His name is Noah,” she says. “He’s Julian’s son.”
Lila processes this.
Her half-brother.
Eleven years old.
Born less than a year after Julian “died.”
The math is simple.
Cruel.
“So he cheated on you,” Lila says.
It’s not a question.
Elena doesn’t answer.
The car turns through the iron gates of Margaret’s estate.
The big stone house looms ahead.
Lights blazing.
Margaret is always awake.
Always waiting.
Elena steps out of the car before the driver can open the door.
She storms up the steps.
Richard and Lila follow.
The butler tries to greet them.
Elena brushes past him.
“Where is she?” she demands.
“Mrs. Whitmore is in the study, Ms. Elena—”
Elena is already moving.
She knows this house better than her own.
Down the hall.
Left.
The big double doors.
She doesn’t knock.
She shoves them open.
Margaret is sitting behind her desk.
Sixty-eight years old.
Silver hair perfectly coiffed.
A glass of scotch in her hand.
She looks up.
Not surprised.
Not even a little.
“Elena,” she says calmly. “I was wondering when you’d get here.”
Elena stops in the middle of the room.
Her hands curl into fists.
“You knew,” she says.
Margaret sets the glass down slowly.
“I did.”
“Twelve years,” Elena says. Her voice trembles. “Twelve years you let me think she was dead. Twelve years you sat there and watched me grieve and you knew.”
Margaret doesn’t flinch.
“I did what I had to do,” she says.
“Had to do?” Elena laughs. It’s a terrible sound. “What possible reason could you have—”
“To protect this family,” Margaret says sharply.
She stands.
Walks around the desk.
Stops in front of Elena.
“Vivian came to me twelve years ago,” Margaret says. “The night before the accident. She was hysterical. Pregnant. With Julian’s baby.”
Elena’s breath catches.
“Julian was married,” Margaret continues. “Married to you. Your husband got your sister pregnant. Do you have any idea what that would have done to this family? To the foundation? To you?”
“So you faked their deaths?” Elena shouts.
“It was the only way!” Margaret shouts back. “Julian agreed. He loved Vivian. He didn’t want to lose her. They were going to run away together. Start over. I helped them.”
“Helped them?” Elena stares. “You helped them destroy me?”
“I protected you!” Margaret says. “Do you know what the press would have done? Julian Carter—golden boy, war hero, your husband—knocks up his own sister-in-law? We would have been ruined. You would have been ruined. You were twenty-nine. Pregnant with Lila. Do you think you could have handled that on top of everything else?”
Elena stares at her mother.
The woman who raised her.
The woman she trusted.
“You decided for me,” Elena says quietly. “You didn’t ask. You just… decided I was too weak to handle the truth.”
“You were too weak,” Margaret says. “Back then. You would have fallen apart.”
“And now?” Elena asks. “Am I strong enough now? Because they just showed up at my gala. In front of everyone. On camera. So much for protecting the family.”
Margaret’s face falls.
“I know,” she says. “I told them not to come. I told them to wait—”
Elena steps closer.
“You’ve been in contact with them this whole time,” she says.
It’s not a question.
Margaret hesitates.
Then nods.
“Money,” she says. “I’ve been sending them money. Every month. For twelve years. To keep them away. To keep them quiet.”
Elena feels like she’s going to be sick.
“All those trips,” she says. “All those ‘business trips’ you took. You were going to see her.”
“Once a year,” Margaret says softly. “I had to. She’s my daughter too.”
Elena looks at Richard.
He’s standing by the door.
His face is unreadable.
“Did you know?” Elena asks him.
Richard’s eyes widen.
“What? Elena, no. I swear—”
“Everyone else knew,” Elena says, turning back to Margaret. “Mom knew. Vivian knew. Julian knew. Was I the only idiot in the world who didn’t?”
“Lila didn’t know,” Margaret says.
Elena glances at her daughter.
Lila is pressed against the wall.
Tears streaming down her face.
Watching her family fall apart.
“Great,” Elena says bitterly. “One other person in the dark. That makes it all better.”
She turns back to Margaret.
“Why now?” she asks. “Why come back now? After twelve years? What changed?”
Margaret’s jaw tightens.
She looks at the floor.
“Vivian is sick,” she says quietly.
Elena freezes.
“Sick?”
“Cancer,” Margaret says. “Stage four. Pancreatic. They gave her six months. That was four months ago.”
The room spins.
Elena grabs the desk to stay upright.
No.
Not that.
Anything but that.
“She’s dying,” Margaret says. Her voice cracks. “She came back because she’s scared. She doesn’t want Noah to end up in the system. She wants… she wants you to take him.”
Elena stares.
“Me?”
“Who else?” Margaret says. “You’re her sister. You’re stable. You have the means. You’re family.”
Elena laughs again.
That terrible sound.
“So let me get this straight,” she says. “You fake her death. You let me grieve for twelve years. She has my husband’s baby. They live happily ever after on my family’s money. And now that she’s dying, she wants me to raise her love child? Is that the plan?”
“Elena—”
“NO!” Elena screams. “You don’t get to ‘Elena’ me! You don’t get to ask me for anything! Not after what you did!”
She backs away.
Shaking her head.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
Margaret’s face crumbles.
“Elena, please—”
“I hate all of you,” Elena says.
She turns.
Grabs Lila’s hand.
Pulls her toward the door.
Richard steps aside.
“Elena, wait—” he says.
“Are you coming or not?” she snaps.
Richard looks at Margaret.
Then at Elena.
He follows.
They drive back in silence.
Worse than before.
Elena’s mind is racing.
Vivian is dying.
Noah needs a home.
Julian is alive.
Her mother is a monster.
And underneath it all—
Underneath the anger and the hurt and the shock—
There’s something else.
Elena saw Vivian’s face.
She’s thinner.
Paler.
There are dark circles under her eyes that even makeup can’t hide.
She is sick.
Elena knows it.
And that means—
May you like
That means Elena is going to lose her sister all over again.
For real this time.
