Chapter 7 - The Dead Man’s HouseCharles Mercer had officially died fourteen years earlier in a boating accident off the coast of Maine.
Her portrait hung in the east gallery.
Her jewelry had been given to Charlotte on their wedding day.
Her grave stood beside the Whitmore family chapel.
Daniel was now telling him she had never given birth to him.
“Who is she?” Sebastian asked.
“I don’t know her real name.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I found payments.”
“From my father?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Forty-two years.”
Sebastian felt dizzy.
Arthur had been sending monthly payments since before Sebastian’s birth.
“They increased five years ago,” Daniel said. “Then Charlotte discovered them.”
“What did Charlotte know?”
“Not everything.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Daniel.”
“If they find me, I’m dead.”
“Who is they?”
Daniel said something muffled.
Then the call ended.
Sebastian tried calling back.
Nothing.
At dawn, he confronted Arthur.
His father did not deny it this time.
Arthur sat motionless for nearly a minute before speaking.
“Her name was Evelyn Brooks.”
Naomi, standing near the doorway, froze.
Sebastian noticed.
“Brooks?”
Arthur looked at her.
Then away.
Naomi whispered, “My mother’s name was Evelyn Brooks.”
No one moved.
Sebastian felt the room tilt.
Arthur stared at Naomi.
“What was your mother’s middle name?”
“Rose.”
Arthur’s face turned gray.
Naomi stepped backward.
“No.”
Sebastian looked between them.
“What is happening?”
Arthur covered his face.
Naomi whispered, “My mother worked for a wealthy family before I was born.”
Arthur’s voice cracked.
“She worked here.”
Sebastian stared.
“Naomi’s mother?”
Arthur nodded.
“She was a housekeeper.”
The word landed with cruel symmetry.
Sebastian looked at Naomi.
She looked equally stunned.
Arthur continued.
“I was thirty.”
He had been married to Eleanor for six years.
They had struggled to conceive.
Arthur and Evelyn began an affair.
Evelyn became pregnant.
“When Eleanor discovered it,” Arthur said, “she wanted a divorce.”
“But she didn’t leave.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because my father threatened to disinherit me.”
Arthur explained that Sebastian’s grandfather cared more about family image than morality.
A deal was made.
Evelyn would disappear.
The baby would be raised as Eleanor’s child.
Evelyn would receive lifelong financial support.
Sebastian felt sick.
“You bought me.”
“No.”
“You bought her silence.”
Arthur looked down.
“Yes.”
Naomi’s eyes filled.
“My mother never told me.”
“She promised she wouldn’t.”
“You knew she had another child?”
Arthur nodded.
“Years later.”
Naomi’s face changed.
“Me.”
“Yes.”
Sebastian looked at her.
The implication arrived slowly.
Naomi was Evelyn’s daughter.
Sebastian was Evelyn’s son.
They shared a mother.
Naomi Brooks—the housekeeper he had nearly fired—was his half-sister.
Neither spoke.
Arthur whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Naomi turned on him.
“Sorry?”
Her voice rose for the first time Sebastian had ever heard.
“You let my mother live with that alone?”
Arthur flinched.
“She chose—”
“She chose between poverty and losing her baby!”
Naomi’s tears fell.
“That isn’t a choice.”
Sebastian could not move.
Images collided in his mind.
Naomi carrying Lily.
Naomi sleeping on the nursery floor.
Charlotte telling him to trust her.
Their mother’s payments.
His entire life.
“Where is Evelyn?” he asked.
Naomi went silent.
Arthur already knew the answer.
“She died nine years ago.”
Sebastian closed his eyes.
His real mother had been dead nine years.
And he had never met her knowingly.
Naomi wiped her face.
“She worked until she got sick.”
“What did she die from?”
“Cancer.”
“Did my father help?”
Naomi looked at Arthur.
“I don’t know.”
Arthur said quietly, “I paid every medical bill.”
Naomi stared at him.
“Money.”
Arthur said nothing.
“Always money.”
Naomi shook her head.
“You people think money turns cruelty into kindness.”
Sebastian felt the accusation even though it was not directed at him.
Perhaps it should have been.
He had spent seven weeks trying to hire his way out of grief.
Arthur whispered, “Your mother refused to see me at the end.”
“Good.”
Naomi walked out.
Sebastian followed.
He found her in the hospital stairwell crying.
He stopped several feet away.
“I don’t know what to say.”
Naomi laughed through tears.
“Neither do I.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“All of it.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have known Charlotte was investigating something dangerous.”
Naomi looked at him.
“You were her husband, not her surveillance system.”
“I wasn’t there enough.”
“That may be true.”
Sebastian accepted the blow.
Naomi continued more gently.
“But being absent isn’t the same as causing what happened.”
He sat on the stair.
After a moment, Naomi sat two steps above him.
“We’re related,” he said.
“Apparently.”
“This is insane.”
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“Did Charlotte know?”
Naomi thought.
“I don’t think so.”
Then she remembered something.
“She asked for a sample of my DNA.”
Sebastian turned.
“What?”
“Three weeks before she died.”
“Why?”
“She said it was for an ancestry project connected to the foundation.”
Sebastian almost laughed.
“Charlotte never did anything accidentally.”
Naomi smiled sadly.
“No.”
Charlotte had known.
Or at least suspected.
Sebastian closed his eyes.
His wife had found his sister before he did.
A security officer rushed through the door.
“Mr. Whitmore.”
Sebastian stood.
“What?”
“We have a situation.”
Daniel Mercer had just walked into a police station in New Jersey.
Alive.
Bleeding.
And carrying a suitcase containing four million dollars in cash.
By the time Sebastian arrived, Daniel was in surgery.
He had been shot in the shoulder.
Before losing consciousness, he gave detectives one message.
“Arthur didn’t order Charlotte’s death.”
Sebastian stared at the detective.
“Then who did?”
“He gave us a name.”
The detective opened his notebook.
“Charles Mercer.”
Sebastian frowned.
“Daniel’s father is dead.”
May you like
The detective looked up.
“Apparently not.”
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