Chapter 4 - The Secret Child
The clue led them to a private adoption agency on the South Side.
The agency had closed nine years earlier.
Its records were missing.
But Emily found a surviving employee.
An elderly woman named Mrs. Collins.
When she saw Emily, she cried.
“You look just like her.”
Emily frowned.
“Like who?”
“Clara.”
Dante went still.
Mrs. Collins covered her mouth.
“I shouldn't have said anything.”
“You already did,” Dante replied.
She looked frightened.
“I knew your wife.”
“How?”
“She brought me a baby.”
Dante's heart stopped.
“What baby?”
“A little girl.”
Emily felt cold.
“How long ago?”
Nine years.”
“What was her name?”
Mrs. Collins looked at Emily.
“Elizabeth.”
Emily frowned.
“Who was Elizabeth?”
“Clara's daughter.”
Silence.
Dante whispered:
“Clara had a daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't I know?”
“She wasn't yours.”
Dante stared.
“What?”
Mrs. Collins hesitated.
“Clara had been separated from the child years before.”
“Who was the father?”
She looked at Emily.
“Your family.”
Emily shook her head.
“That makes no sense.”
Mrs. Collins reached into a drawer.
She pulled out an old file.
Inside was a photograph.
A baby.
And a name.
Elizabeth Davies.
Emily stopped breathing.
“My last name.”
Mrs. Collins nodded.
“She was your mother's daughter.”
Emily stared.
“My mother?”
“Yes.”
Dante looked between them.
“So Emily…”
“Is Clara's biological niece.”
Mrs. Collins shook her head.
“No.”
She looked directly at Emily.
“She was Clara's daughter.”
Emily stumbled backward.
“No.”
“Your mother changed the records.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
Dante stared.
The little child Clara had talked about.
The child she had hidden.
The child who somehow became Emily.
Emily felt dizzy.
Her entire life had been a lie.
Her mother had not simply been a single parent.
She had been protecting Emily from the Marino family.
Dante's voice softened.
“Emily.”
She turned toward him.
“I don't know who I am.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“I grew up believing my mother was Isabel Davies.”
“She was.”
“But Clara…”
“Was your biological mother.”
Emily covered her face.
She cried silently.
Dante stood nearby.
For once, he didn't know what to say.
So he stayed.
When Emily finally looked up, she asked:
“Did Clara know me?”
Mrs. Collins nodded.
“She visited once.”
“When?”
“Two weeks before her death.”
“Why?”
“She wanted to take you back.”
Dante frowned.
“Take her where?”
“Home.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“I never knew that woman.”
“She knew you.”
Dante asked:
“Where is the rest of the file?”
Mrs. Collins looked terrified.
“Someone stole it.”
“When?”
“Three days ago.”
Dante stared.
“Someone knew we would come.”
Emily suddenly understood.
“This isn't about the past.”
“What?”
“It's happening now.”
A phone vibrated.
Dante answered.
Marcus's voice came through.
“We found Clara.”
Dante froze.
“What?”
“She's alive.”
The line went dead.
Emily's eyes widened.
Dante looked at her.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Emily.”
“I am done being left behind while people discuss my life.”
He stared.
She grabbed her coat.
“I'm coming.”
They drove to an old psychiatric hospital.
The building had been abandoned for years.
They entered.
A room at the end of the hall contained a woman.
Dark hair.
Pale face.
Older.
Alive.
Clara.
Dante stopped.
Emily froze.
Clara looked at her.
Tears filled her eyes.
“Elizabeth.”
Emily could not breathe.
“My name is Emily.”
Clara smiled sadly.
“I know.”
Dante stepped forward.
“You let me bury you.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
Clara looked at him.
“Because if they knew I was alive, they would kill our daughter.”
Dante froze.
“Our daughter?”
Clara looked at Emily.
Then back at Dante.
“I never told you.”
May you like
She took a shaky breath.
“Emily is ours.”
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