Chapter 7 - Rebecca's Secret
I called Claire before the car reached the end of Elliot’s street.
She answered immediately.
“Daniel?”
“Where’s Rebecca?”
A pause.
“With me.”
“Put Michael’s second team outside your door.”
“They’re already there.”
“Do it anyway.”
“What happened?”
“Rebecca’s credentials were used to access Nora’s records.”
Silence.
Then: “That’s impossible.”
“I hope so.”
“Daniel, my sister wouldn’t—”
“I’m not accusing her.”
“You sound like you are.”
“I’m saying someone used her access.”
“She doesn’t have access.”
“She apparently does.”
Claire turned away from the phone.
“Rebecca?”
I heard movement.
Then Rebecca’s voice.
“What?”
“Did you access Nora’s medical chart?”
“What? No.”
“Do you have hospital credentials?”
Another pause.
Too long.
“Rebecca.”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Claire whispered, “Why?”
“I used to consult for Northwestern.”
“You’re an accountant.”
“I worked on compliance.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it wasn’t important.”
I cut in.
“It is now.”
Rebecca heard me.
“Daniel?”
“Did anyone contact you about Claire?”
“No.”
“Nora?”
“No.”
“Dr. Shaw?”
Rebecca went silent again.
Claire’s voice changed.
“Rebecca?”
“I can explain.”
I hated those words.
Everyone in my life seemed to have something requiring explanation.
“Start,” I said.
Rebecca inhaled.
“Dr. Shaw contacted me after Claire left Chicago.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
Claire sounded stunned.
“You never told me?”
“She said she had medical information about your first pregnancy.”
“So did you give her my location?”
“No!”
“Rebecca.”
“I didn’t.”
Her voice cracked.
“I swear.”
“Then what did you give her?”
“Nothing.”
“Why would she call you?”
“She wanted me to convince you to meet her.”
Claire looked toward me through a video call she had activated.
“And you did.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why you told me about Saint Anne’s.”
Rebecca started crying.
“I thought she was helping.”
I looked at Claire.
She was furious.
Not scared.
That was somehow worse.
“You sent me toward that hospital.”
“I didn’t know!”
“Why didn’t you come?”
“Because Shaw said Daniel’s people were watching me.”
I asked, “How did she know anything about my people?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“Did you tell her Claire was pregnant?”
“She already knew.”
“Did you tell her Nora had been born?”
“No.”
“Did you access Nora’s chart?”
“No.”
Michael sat beside me.
He typed into a laptop.
Then turned the screen.
Login location.
Not the hospital.
A computer in Oak Park.
“Rebecca,” I said, “where’s your old work laptop?”
She looked confused.
“At home.”
“Which home?”
“My condo.”
“Who has access?”
“No one.”
“Housekeeper?”
“No.”
“Boyfriend?”
“I’m not seeing anyone.”
“Family?”
She stared at the screen.
Then all the color left her face.
“My father.”
Claire stopped.
“Dad?”
I had met Robert Bennett only four times.
He and Claire had never been close.
He left their mother when Claire was twelve and Rebecca fifteen.
Years later, he appeared at birthdays and Christmas when convenient.
Last I heard, he lived somewhere outside Chicago.
Claire whispered, “Dad has a key to your condo?”
“He watered my plants when I traveled.”
“Recently?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Last month.”
Something ugly moved into place.
“Where does he live?” I asked.
Rebecca gave me the address.
Michael entered it.
Then froze.
“What?”
He turned the laptop.
The address belonged to a property management company.
One of the directors was Evelyn Shaw.
Claire saw it.
“No.”
Rebecca covered her mouth.
“What does Dad have to do with her?”
I remembered my wedding.
Robert Bennett standing alone near the bar.
Dr. Shaw had attended because she was Claire’s physician.
I remembered them speaking.
At the time, I thought nothing of it.
“Claire.”
She looked at me.
“Did your father know Shaw before us?”
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca whispered, “Yes.”
Claire turned.
“What?”
“I saw them together once.”
“When?”
“When Mom was dying.”
That was before Claire and I met Shaw.
Claire’s eyes filled.
“You never told me.”
“I thought they were dating.”
My mind raced.
“What did your mother die from?”
Claire looked confused.
“Cancer.”
“What kind?”
“Pancreatic.”
“Who was her physician?”
Rebecca shook her head.
“Different doctor.”
“Did Shaw ever treat her?”
“No.”
Then Rebecca hesitated.
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Mom participated in a private medical study.”
Claire stared.
“What study?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Who organized it?”
Rebecca whispered:
“Dr. Shaw.”
The room around Claire seemed to disappear.
I knew what she was thinking.
This went back before our marriage.
Before the pregnancies.
Before Nora.
Why?
Michael leaned toward me.
“Daniel.”
He muted the call.
“What?”
“I looked up Robert Bennett.”
“And?”
“He worked for Carter Freight.”
My blood chilled.
“When?”
“Twenty-five years ago.”
My father’s company.
“Position?”
“Compliance officer.”
Claire’s father had worked for William Carter.
I stared at the screen.
“Unmute.”
Michael did.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“Your father knew mine.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“He worked for Carter Freight.”
Rebecca whispered, “Dad never said that.”
“When did he leave?”
Michael checked.
“1998.”
The year before my father died.
Thomas, still in the car behind us, called.
I merged him into the conversation.
“What?”
I told him.
He went quiet.
Then: “Robert Bennett.”
“You know him?”
“I know the name.”
“How?”
“He testified during Dad’s labor investigation.”
I remembered the case.
My father had been accused of pension fraud.
Charges disappeared after two witnesses recanted.
“Was Robert one?”
“No.”
“What did he testify?”
“That Dad was hiding money through employee benefit accounts.”
The trust.
Maybe.
Claire spoke quietly.
“So my father knew about the Carter money before I ever met you.”
“Yes.”
“And Shaw knew him.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca started sobbing.
“This can’t be happening.”
Claire ignored her.
“Daniel, what if meeting you wasn’t an accident?”
I felt the sentence physically.
Claire and I met at a charity event six years after her mother died.
She was there because Rebecca’s firm had donated.
I attended because Carter Holdings sponsored the event.
I remembered walking across the ballroom because Claire laughed at something a waiter said.
I remembered thinking I had never heard anyone sound that alive.
I remembered believing it was fate.
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying what if someone wanted a Bennett daughter to marry a Carter son?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because nobody made me fall in love with you.”
Claire’s expression softened painfully.
“No.”
Then hardened again.
“But they may have put us in the same room.”
Michael swore under his breath.
The car turned into the hospital parking structure.
I went upstairs.
Rebecca stood near Claire’s bed.
Claire was crying.
Rebecca moved toward me.
I raised a hand.
“Not yet.”
She stopped.
I hated myself for frightening her.
But fear had become contagious.
Claire looked at me.
“What do we do?”
“We find your father.”
“And if he’s involved?”
“We find out how.”
“I want to come.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
I corrected myself immediately.
“I don’t think it’s safe.”
“That’s different.”
“I’m learning.”
“Slowly.”
“Very.”
A tiny smile almost appeared.
Then a NICU nurse entered.
“Mrs. Carter?”
Claire stood carefully.
“Is Nora okay?”
“She’s doing beautifully. Would you like to see her?”
Everything else disappeared.
Claire looked at me.
Then hesitated.
That hesitation held our entire marriage.
I expected her to ask Rebecca instead.
She whispered, “Come with me.”
I almost stopped breathing.
“Me?”
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t.”
We scrubbed our hands.
The NICU was quiet except for machines.
Nora lay inside her incubator beneath a tiny knitted hat.
Claire placed one finger through the opening.
Nora wrapped her hand around it.
My throat closed.
“She’s strong,” Claire whispered.
“Like you.”
Claire looked at me.
I meant it.
No charm.
No manipulation.
No attempt to win anything.
Just truth.
Eventually, she moved aside.
“Touch her.”
I hesitated.
“What if—”
“Daniel.”
I placed my finger near Nora’s hand.
Her fingers closed around me.
I had signed contracts worth hundreds of millions.
None felt as binding.
“Hi, Nora.”
Her chest rose beneath the blanket.
“I’m your dad.”
Claire looked away.
I continued quietly.
“I’m late.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“But I’m here.”
Nora held tighter.
“I don’t know if that counts for much yet.”
Claire started crying.
“I’m going to try to make it count.”
My phone vibrated.
I nearly ignored it.
Then I saw the number.
Unknown.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man spoke.
“Daniel.”
Claire turned.
I recognized the voice from holidays.
Robert Bennett.
My father-in-law.
“Where are you?”
“Somewhere safe.”
“From who?”
“You.”
Claire reached for the phone.
“Dad.”
He inhaled sharply.
“Claire.”
“Did you know Dr. Shaw?”
“Yes.”
“Did you know William Carter?”
“Yes.”
“Did you plan for me to meet Daniel?”
Silence.
Her face collapsed.
“Dad?”
Robert whispered:
“I was trying to save you.”
“From what?”
“From what happens when a Carter child is born.”
I grabbed the phone.
“What happens?”
Robert began crying.
Then he said:
“Ask Evelyn what she did with your first son.”
I stopped.
“He died.”
“No.”
Claire covered her mouth.
Robert’s voice trembled.
“The baby you held was not William.”
The NICU machines continued beeping around us.
I could not feel my legs.
“What did you say?”
“Your son survived.”
Claire made a sound I will hear until the day I die.
“Where is he?” she screamed.
Robert cried harder.
“I don’t know anymore.”
“How old would he be?” Michael whispered behind us.
Six.
Our first son would be six.
Claire grabbed the phone.
“Dad, where is my child?”
Robert answered:
“Evelyn took him.”
Then the call ended.
Beside us, Nora slept peacefully.
May you like
And suddenly Claire and I were no longer parents of one living child.
Somewhere in the world, the son we buried might still be waiting for us.
