Chapter 4 - FORTY-THREE LETTERS
I did not wait until morning.
That was probably a mistake.
Nora called it one.
Mrs. Alvarez called it worse in Spanish.
Maisie slept in a reclining chair beside Nora’s bed while I drove to Daniel’s house in Lake Forest at two in the morning.
Snow had begun falling.
Thin, dry flakes swept across Sheridan Road.
My brother opened the front door before I rang.
“You came.”
“You knew I would.”
He looked at the security camera above the porch.
“I hoped.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No.”
The house was the one our father had bought when we were children.
Daniel inherited it.
I had avoided it after Charles died.
Too many rooms still felt like instructions.
Sit straight.
Speak clearly.
Do not embarrass the family.
Win.
Daniel led me into the library.
The box sat on the desk.
NORA LANE / ETHAN — PRIVATE.
I recognized my father’s handwriting immediately.
My throat tightened.
“Where was it?”
“Basement archive.”
“You have had this for how long?”
“Four years.”
I looked at him.
“After Dad died?”
“Yes.”
“And you did not tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Daniel leaned against the desk.
“I was ashamed.”
“That didn’t stop you for four years.”
“No.”
“Try again.”
He closed his eyes.
“I was afraid.”
That answer surprised me.
“Of what?”
“That you would hate me.”
I laughed without humor.
“Efficient strategy.”
“I know.”
I opened the box.
Letters.
Dozens.
Cream envelopes.
Blue envelopes.
College stationery.
Some with hearts drawn beside my name.
Some marked RETURNED.
Some never stamped because Nora had apparently given them to someone to forward.
My hands shook.
The first was dated September 3, fourteen years earlier.
Ethan,
Stanford probably already has you pretending you don’t miss Chicago, but I know you. You miss bad pizza, the river at night, and me, in that order.
I had to stop.
I sat down.
Daniel said nothing.
I opened another.
October.
Then November.
Then January.
Nora wrote about her classes.
Her mother.
A stray cat she fed behind the art building.
How angry she was that I had not written back.
How embarrassed she felt for continuing.
Then the letters changed.
March.
Ethan,
Your father came to see me.
My blood went cold.
I kept reading.
He says you asked him to speak to me because you don’t want a dramatic goodbye. I don’t believe him, but I am starting to think maybe believing him would hurt less than waiting.
I looked up.
“Dad saw her.”
Daniel nodded.
“How many times?”
“Three that I know of.”
Rage filled me.
“He told her I sent him.”
“Yes.”
I returned to the box.
A letter dated April.
I won’t write again.
If this is really what you want, I will try to respect it.
I hope Stanford is beautiful.
I hope you become everything you keep saying you will become.
I wish becoming it didn’t require forgetting me.
Nora.
I put the letter down.
For several seconds, I could not see.
Daniel stood across the desk.
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying that.”
He nodded.
“Where are mine?”
“What?”
“My letters to Nora.”
“In another file.”
My head snapped up.
“You have those too?”
“Dad intercepted some.”
“Some?”
“Twenty-one.”
The room spun.
“You knew.”
“After he died.”
“You had both sides.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told us at any point.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
I wanted to hit him again.
Instead I walked to the window.
The lake beyond the glass was black.
“Why did Dad care that much?”
Daniel did not answer.
I turned.
“That’s the document, isn’t it?”
He looked at the box.
At the bottom was a sealed manila envelope.
I pulled it out.
No label.
Inside sat a legal memorandum from sixteen years earlier.
Two names appeared on the first page.
CHARLES COLE.
MARGARET LANE.
Nora’s mother.
I stared.
“What is this?”
Daniel sat.
“Dad and Margaret were business partners before we knew Nora.”
“What?”
“Not publicly.”
I scanned the pages.
A startup.
Medical imaging software.
Patents.
A settlement.
My father’s company had purchased Margaret Lane’s shares for a fraction of their later value.
I looked at Daniel.
“Dad knew Nora’s mother.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Since before Nora was born.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why did no one ever say that?”
“Because the partnership ended badly.”
“How badly?”
Daniel pointed at the final page.
I read.
Margaret Lane had accused Charles Cole of coercing her into signing away intellectual-property rights during a financial crisis.
She had threatened litigation.
Then suddenly withdrawn.
In exchange, she received a modest settlement and a confidentiality agreement.
“This is why Dad didn’t want me with Nora.”
Daniel nodded.
“He thought Margaret would use your relationship to reopen the dispute.”
“That is insane.”
“Yes.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“Did Nora even know?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then Dad destroyed our relationship over a business grievance from before we were born.”
Daniel looked ashamed.
“That was Dad.”
“No.”
I turned on him.
“That was you too.”
He accepted it.
“I know.”
I kept reading.
There was a second document.
A handwritten note by Charles.
DANIEL — IF ETHAN RECONNECTS WITH NORA, THIS MUST BE HANDLED BEFORE SHE LEARNS THE TRUTH ABOUT MARGARET.
My hands went cold.
“What truth?”
Daniel stood.
“I don’t know.”
“You had this four years.”
“I searched.”
“For what?”
“Margaret’s original case files. Corporate records. Old attorneys.”
“And?”
“Most were destroyed or sealed.”
“Why?”
“The company she started became part of Cole Meridian.”
I froze.
“What?”
“Her patent portfolio sits inside our medical technology division.”
My chest tightened.
“How much is it worth?”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked toward the floor.
“About nine hundred million.”
I laughed.
It sounded unreal.
“Nine hundred million dollars.”
“Yes.”
“And Dad paid her what?”
“Two hundred eighty thousand.”
I stared.
“Nora has been living above a laundromat without health insurance while our company earns money from technology her mother helped create.”
Daniel’s face hardened.
“I did not know she was that bad off.”
“You tracked her.”
“I tracked safety, not finances.”
“That sentence is disgusting.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He looked exhausted.
“I have spent two years trying to convince myself that if I paid things quietly, I was repairing damage.”
“You were repeating Dad.”
“I know.”
That was the first time his agreement sounded like admission rather than defense.
I returned to the letters.
One envelope was different.
Newer.
Six years old.
Addressed to Daniel.
From Owen Hart.
My pulse changed.
“You said Owen came to see you.”
“Yes.”
“This is his?”
Daniel nodded.
I opened it.
Daniel,
I know what you think you are doing.
You are not protecting Nora. You are surrounding her until every direction leads back to you.
I know she and Ethan saw each other in San Francisco.
I also know you have people watching her.
Stop.
If the baby is mine, I will raise her.
If the baby is Ethan’s, Nora will decide when and how to tell him.
If by some impossible twist she is yours, biology still does not grant you permission to terrorize her.
Stay away.
Owen
I read it twice.
Then I found a second page.
P.S. I found something in Margaret Lane’s old records. Charles Cole’s settlement was not only unfair. It may have been fraudulent. I am giving copies to an attorney next week.
My heartbeat stopped.
“What attorney?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I never found out.”
“When did Owen die?”
“Five days after he wrote that.”
I looked at him.
“You said six weeks.”
Daniel’s face changed.
“I lied.”
Of course.
“Why?”
“Because if I told you the timing immediately, you would assume—”
“That Dad killed him?”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you ask?”
“Dad denied knowing Owen existed.”
“Did you believe him?”
“No.”
The answer came quietly.
My anger shifted into something darker.
Fear of a dead man.
Fear of what power could do when nobody questioned it.
“Where are Owen’s copies?”
“I never found them.”
“Did Dad?”
“I don’t know.”
My phone rang.
Nora.
I answered immediately.
“What happened?”
Her voice was panicked.
“Maisie is gone.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What?”
“She woke up. Mrs. Alvarez took her to the restroom. Someone told them I had been moved upstairs.”
My heart pounded.
“Who?”
“A nurse.”
“Was it a nurse?”
“No one on staff matches the description.”
Daniel was already reaching for his coat.
I put the phone on speaker.
“Nora, lock the door.”
“I’m not locking myself in while my daughter is missing.”
“Security is searching.”
“I don’t care.”
“Nora.”
Her voice broke.
“Ethan, she took the necklace.”
My blood went cold.
Daniel froze.
“What?” he asked.
Nora heard him.
“You’re with Daniel?”
“Later.”
“Ethan—”
“What about the necklace?”
“Maisie said a lady told her the star belonged to Margaret Lane first.”
I stared at the legal memorandum.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Nora was crying.
“My mother had the amber before you did.”
My chest tightened.
“What?”
“She gave it to your father when they were young.”
Daniel and I looked at each other.
The room changed.
Nora continued.
“Ethan, your father gave you that amber knowing exactly where it came from.”
I looked down at my hands.
Fourteen years earlier, Charles Cole had placed a cloudy amber stone on my workbench and said he had found it in an old drawer.
I had carved it into a star for Nora.
He had known.
He had known everything.
Then Daniel’s phone buzzed.
A hospital security alert.
Camera still.
Maisie walking down a service corridor beside a woman in blue scrubs.
The woman’s face was partly turned away.
But Daniel recognized her.
I saw it immediately.
“Who is she?”
He went pale.
“Ethan.”
“Who?”
He enlarged the image.
The woman looked sixty.
Dark hair streaked with gray.
Green-gray eyes.
Nora’s eyes.
Daniel whispered:
“Margaret Lane.”
I stared at him.
“Nora’s mother is dead.”
“Yes.”
“Then who is that?”
May you like
Daniel looked at the screen.
“That is the problem.”
