Chapter 5 - HE KNEW BEFORE HE MARRIED ME
Emily did not sleep.
At two in the morning, she sat in the nursery they had never converted.
Grant had suggested turning it into a gym twenty years earlier.
Emily refused.
So the room remained strange and neutral.
Cream walls.
Built-in shelves.
A window overlooking the south lawn.
They called it the upstairs sitting room because adults preferred polite names for grief.
Now Clara slept there in a rented bassinet.
Noah slept down the hall with his door open.
Grant slept nowhere Emily could see.
At seven, he made coffee.
She did not drink it.
“Tell me about Michael.”
Grant looked exhausted.
“He came to my office.”
“Why yours?”
“Your mother wouldn’t speak to him.”
“So he chose the man marrying me.”
“Yes.”
“Did he know about us?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That he had proof something was wrong with the adoption.”
“You just said he suspected.”
“He had a bank record.”
Emily stared.
“Whose?”
“Eleanor’s.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Grant.”
“I don’t. He showed me a photocopy.”
A monthly transfer from one of Eleanor Prescott’s private accounts to Golden Coast Family Services.
$1,500.
Every month.
For almost three years.
“Why would she keep paying an adoption agency?”
“Michael thought it was support.”
“For Grace?”
“Yes.”
“And what did you think?”
Grant looked away.
“I thought he was trying to upset you before the wedding.”
Emily laughed softly.
“Of course.”
“He hated me.”
“He loved me.”
“So did I.”
The sentence stopped her.
Grant’s eyes filled.
For one dangerous second, Emily saw her husband instead of the keeper of secrets.
The man who sat beside her during her father’s funeral.
The man who learned to make her mother’s lemon cake.
The man who slept on an airport floor with her after a cancelled flight because every hotel near Denver was full.
Love did not erase what he had done.
That was the problem.
“Did you know Grace was alive before our wedding?”
Grant looked at the table.
Emily’s heart slowed.
“Answer.”
“I knew there was a strong possibility.”
“Strong possibility is a lawyer’s phrase.”
“I knew.”
The kitchen became silent.
Noah stood in the doorway.
Emily had not heard him come down.
Grant looked at him.
Then back at her.
“I knew.”
The first major shift did not feel like a revelation.
It felt like gravity disappearing.
Emily sat.
“You married me knowing my daughter was alive.”
“I knew she had been adopted. I did not know where.”
“You knew the baby I mourned was not dead.”
“Yes.”
“On our wedding day.”
“Yes.”
“During our vows.”
“Yes.”
Emily pressed both palms against the table.
“Why?”
Grant spoke slowly.
“Because your mother had convinced me there was no way to undo it without destroying everyone.”
“Everyone.”
“You. The Carters. Grace.”
“She was three.”
“Yes.”
“She could have known her mother.”
“Eleanor said the adoption was sealed.”
“Eleanor lied.”
“I know that now.”
“You knew she had forged my consent.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“You saw her sign the document.”
“I believed she had legal authority.”
Emily looked at him.
“Do you hear yourself?”
“Yes.”
“No. You hear words. Do you hear what they mean?”
He said nothing.
“You stood beside me while I put flowers on an empty grave.”
His eyes closed.
“She wasn’t buried there.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe she was.”
“Yes.”
Noah stepped backward.
Emily looked at him.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head.
“This is yours.”
“No. It’s yours too.”
His mother had spent thirty-six years without her.
Different side of the same theft.
Emily turned back to Grant.
“Did Grace know you knew from the beginning?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t tell her.”
“Of course.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I learned from Eleanor near the end of her life.”
“Another lie.”
“Yes.”
Noah’s hands curled.
“You told my mom Grandma Emily knew too.”
Grant’s face tightened.
“I was trying to stop her from appearing without warning.”
“You made her think she’d been rejected twice.”
“I know.”
Noah moved toward him.
Emily stood.
“Noah.”
He stopped.
His face was red.
“My mom kept your Christmas cards.”
Emily stared at him.
“What?”
“Not cards you sent her.”
He looked at Grant.
“Cards from your foundation.”
Emily’s foundation mailed thousands each December.
Grace had apparently received one after donating to a pediatric health fundraiser.
“She kept them because your picture was on the front.”
Emily covered her mouth.
Noah continued.
“She used to say, ‘She looks happy. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’d only hurt her.’”
Grant sat down.
For the first time, he looked unable to defend himself.
Emily asked one final question.
“Why did my mother do it?”
Grant rubbed his eyes.
“She hated Michael.”
“That’s not enough.”
“She thought you were ruining your life.”
“Still not enough.”
“She thought if you kept Grace, you would marry him.”
Emily almost laughed.
“I wanted to marry him.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
Grant was silent.
Noah looked between them.
Finally Grant said, “Your father had just had the first heart attack.”
Emily froze.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“The Prescott family company was in negotiations with a Japanese buyer. There were inheritance and voting issues. Your mother thought scandal around an unmarried pregnancy and Michael’s family would give your uncles leverage.”
Emily stared.
“She gave away my child for a board vote?”
“No.”
“Then explain it better.”
“She believed she was protecting your future.”
The phrase made Emily sick.
Everyone had protected her by taking choices away.
Her mother.
Grant.
His father.
“She regretted it,” Grant said.
Emily’s head lifted.
“What?”
“Near the end.”
“You said she made comments.”
“She did more than that.”
“What?”
Grant stood.
“She wrote something.”
Emily’s heart started pounding.
“A letter?”
“Yes.”
“To me?”
“Yes.”
“Where is it?”
Grant looked toward his study.
Emily could see the answer on his face.
“You have it.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Eight years.”
Noah whispered, “Jesus.”
Emily stood.
“Get it.”
Grant did not move.
“Now.”
He walked to the study.
When he returned, he held a small sealed envelope.
Emily recognized her mother’s handwriting immediately.
EMILY.
Grant placed it on the table.
She reached for it.
His hand stayed on top.
“There’s something you need to understand before you read it.”
Emily stared at his fingers.
“Take your hand off my mother’s letter.”
He did.
Emily picked it up.
Then Marissa called.
Emily almost ignored the phone.
Something made her answer.
“Emily, don’t open anything yet.”
She froze.
“Why?”
“We found Michael Reyes.”
Emily stopped breathing.
“He’s alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Monterey.”
Marissa paused.
“And Emily, according to Grace’s records, he already knows Noah.”
Emily looked at her grandson.
Noah lowered his eyes.
May you like
“You knew my father too?”
Noah whispered, “He was at my mom’s funeral.”
