Chapter 2: The Man Who Was Supposed to Be Dead
For a moment, nobody moved.
I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen. Somewhere outside, a dog barked.
I looked at Maya.
"Sweetheart, Daniel died three years ago.""
She nodded, tears sliding down her cheeks.
"I know what everyone told me.""
"Then what are you saying?""
She reached for her phone again.
"I saw him.""
Patricia covered her mouth.
Eleanor slowly lowered herself into her chair.
I looked between them.
"Somebody better start explaining.""
Maya took a deep breath.
"It happened six weeks ago. I was leaving school late because I had to finish a project. I saw a man sitting in a black car across the street.""
She rubbed her palms against her jeans.
"He called my name. I thought he was someone from Dad's office, but then he lowered his window.""
"And?""
"He looked exactly like the pictures Grandma keeps in her bedroom.""
I glanced at Eleanor.
She was staring at the table.
Maya continued.
"He said, 'You look just like your mother.'' Then he told me his name.""
I felt my throat tighten.
"What did you do?""
"I ran.""
"Why didn't you call me?""
"Because he sent me a picture of you sleeping in your office.""
My blood turned cold.
"What?""
Maya unlocked her phone and opened an image.
It showed me asleep at my desk, my jacket folded beneath my head. The photograph had clearly been taken from inside the office.
Beneath it was another message.
Your father is a good man. He just doesn't know what your mother did.
I stared at the screen.
"How long has this been happening?""
"Six weeks.""
"And you kept this from me?""
She flinched.
"I'm sorry.""
I immediately regretted raising my voice.
I sat beside her and took her hand.
"No. Don't apologize. You should never have had to deal with this alone.""
Patricia leaned forward.
"Marcus, we need to talk about Daniel.""
I turned toward her.
"Start at the beginning.""
Patricia glanced at Eleanor.
"Your brother-in-law didn't die in that car accident three years ago.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"He disappeared. Eleanor told everyone he was dead because she wanted to protect him.""
Eleanor slammed her palm against the table.
"That's enough!""
Patricia didn't stop.
"Daniel had been in trouble for years. He owed money to people he shouldn't have known. He was involved in things Claire wanted nothing to do with.""
I shook my head.
"Why would Eleanor tell us he was dead?""
"Because she believed it would keep the police away from him. She arranged the funeral using an empty casket and told the family there had been an identification problem.""
I looked at Eleanor.
"Is that true?""
She stared back at me.
"I was protecting my son.""
"You let us mourn him!""
"I had no choice.""
"You stood beside me at his funeral!""
Her eyes filled with tears.
"And I buried my only child in my heart that day!""
For the first time, her anger seemed to collapse into something resembling grief.
But I couldn't stop thinking about Maya.
"Why is Daniel contacting my daughter?""
Patricia took another envelope from her handbag.
"Because he wants something.""
She placed several printed documents on the table.
The first was a bank transfer.
The second was a photograph of Claire.
The third was a handwritten note bearing my wife's signature.
I recognized that handwriting instantly.
Claire used to leave little notes in my lunch bag. She always crossed her letter A in a particular way.
The note read:
If anything happens to me, Marcus must never know what happened that night. Please make sure Maya is safe.
I read it again.
Then again.
My wife had died eleven years earlier from complications following a serious illness. For a long time, I had believed I knew every important detail about her final months.
Apparently, I didn't.
"Where did you get this?"" I asked.
Patricia looked down.
"Daniel sent it to me.""
"When?""
"Two weeks ago.""
"And you didn't tell me?""
"I was afraid.""
"Of Daniel?""
She shook her head.
"Of what he would do if he knew I had told you.""
Eleanor suddenly stood again.
"Patricia, you promised Claire!""
Patricia looked at her.
"I promised I would protect Maya. I never promised to protect your lies.""
Maya squeezed my hand.
"Dad, there's something I haven't told you.""
I turned toward her.
"What is it?""
She opened a hidden folder on her phone.
There were eleven audio recordings.
Each one was dated.
The oldest was from six weeks earlier.
The newest had been recorded that afternoon.
I pressed play.
A man's voice came through the speaker.
"Your father thinks he's your hero, doesn't he? He thinks he gave you everything. But he doesn't even know why your mother chose him.""
Maya's breathing became uneven.
The recording continued.
"Ask your grandmother about the hospital room. Ask her what happened to the other baby.""
I stopped the recording.
"What other baby?""
Maya looked at Patricia.
Patricia was crying openly now.
Eleanor whispered something I couldn't hear.
I turned toward her.
"Mom. What other baby?""
She stared at me for a long moment.
Then she said something that made my knees weaken.
"Claire didn't give birth to one child that night, Marcus.""
I looked at the photograph again.
Two people.
One newborn.
A hospital.
A date I would never forget.
"How many babies were born?"" I asked.
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"Two.""
I gripped the back of the chair.
"Twins?""
She nodded.
"Claire had twins.""
The room went silent.
I looked at Maya.
My daughter had stopped crying.
Instead, she was staring at the table as though she had already known the answer.
I turned to her.
"Sweetheart, did you know?""
She nodded slowly.
"Daniel told me.""
My voice cracked.
"Where is the other baby?""
Maya looked directly at me.
Then she whispered:
"He's alive, Dad.""
Before I could ask another question, my phone began ringing.
An unknown number.
I answered.
A man's voice spoke immediately.
"Hello, Marcus.""
I knew that voice.
It was the voice I had heard at Daniel's funeral, the voice I had believed belonged to a dead man.
"Daniel?""
He laughed softly.
"Good. Your daughter finally told you about her brother.""
I gripped the phone.
"Where are you?""
"That doesn't matter. What matters is that you've spent seventeen years raising someone else's daughter.""
I looked at Maya.
She began shaking.
Daniel continued.
"And if you want to know which one of those babies is actually yours, you'd better meet me tomorrow.""
The call ended.
I stood frozen, staring at my phone.
Then a message arrived.
It contained a photograph of two newborn babies lying beside each other in a hospital nursery.
May you like
On the back, someone had written:
Only one of them went home with Claire.
