Chapter 4: The Secret That Predated the Birthmark
The nurse came in at the worst possible moment.
She checked the babies, adjusted the monitors, asked me how my pain level was on a scale of one to ten.
I said four.
It was closer to seven.
She left a cup of water on the tray beside me and said the doctor would be in within the hour.
The door closed again.
Nathan was still standing near the bassinets.
He hadn't looked at his mother since he'd handed me the baby.
"Diane," he said.
"Answer her."
"This isn't the time—"
"It is exactly the time." He turned around.
"My wife just gave birth.
I accused her of something unforgivable based on something you could have explained to me twenty years ago.
So yes.
Right now is the time."
Diane looked at me.
I didn't help her.
She pressed her hands flat on her thighs.
"Your father," she began, and then stopped.
"What about him?"
"Your father had a brother.
Older than him by four years.
His name was Robert." She paused.
"Robert d*ed before you were born.
Before Marcus was born.
There was an accident — it doesn't matter.
What matters is that before he d*ed, Robert had a son."
Nathan was very still.
"What son?"
"A boy.
From a woman your grandfather never approved of.
Your grandfather refused to acknowledge the child.
He paid the mother to leave and never contact the family again." Diane's voice had gone flat, like she was reading from a document she had memorized long ago.
"The boy grew up somewhere else.
We never knew where.
Your father knew about him — he told me when we were first married — but he said it was over and done with and there was no point in reopening it."
"So I have a cousin," Nathan said.
"Somewhere."
"You had a cousin.
I don't know if he's still living." Diane looked up.
"But that isn't the part I should have told you."
Nathan pulled a chair close and sat down.
"Then what is?"
"The reason your grandfather paid that woman to leave — the reason he was so determined to erase that child — was money.
There was a trust.
Set up by your great-grandfather.
It was meant to pass to the eldest male line." Diane's voice dropped.
"Robert was the eldest.
His son would have had a claim.
A legal claim.
Your grandfather spent years making sure that claim could never be made."
The monitors beeped softly.
One of the other babies stirred and settled.
"How much?" Nathan said.
Diane shook her head.
"How much, Mom?"
"I don't know the exact figure.
Your father said it was substantial.
Property, mostly.
And a portfolio that had been growing since the 1940s."
Nathan stood up again.
He couldn't seem to stay still.
"Does Marcus know any of this?"
The pause was a fraction too long.
"Mom."
"I told Marcus two years ago," Diane said quietly.
"After your father passed.
I thought he had a right to know the family history."
"You told Marcus." Nathan's voice was very controlled.
"But not me."
"Marcus asked.
He found some old letters in your father's things and he came to me with questions.
You never—"
"I never asked because I didn't know there was anything to ask about." Nathan moved to the window.
He stood with his back to us.
"Two years.
Marcus has known for two years that there is a trust, a missing heir, and a family secret.
And he said nothing to me."
I looked at Diane.
She was watching her son with an expression I couldn't read clearly — something between guilt and something older than guilt.
"Has Marcus done anything?" I asked.
"About the trust?
About finding the cousin?"
Diane's hands tightened again.
"I don't know," she said.
But the way she said it told me she suspected.
And the way she wouldn't meet my eyes told me her suspicion was not a small one.
Nathan turned from the window.
"I need to call Marcus," he said.
"Nathan, not tonight—"
"Tonight." His voice left no room.
"He can explain to me himself why he's been sitting on this for two years."
He took out his phone and walked into the hallway.
Diane and I were alone with the three babies.
She looked at our third daughter, still in my arms.
"She really is his," Diane said softly.
"I want you to know that I know that."
"I know she is," I said.
Diane nodded.
She looked tired in a way that had nothing to do with the hour.
"What did Marcus do?" I asked.
She closed her eyes.
"I think," she said slowly, "that he hired someone to find the cousin."
"Why would he do that?"
She opened her eyes.
They were wet.
"Because if the cousin is found and acknowledged, the trust gets divided.
Marcus's share gets smaller." She looked at me directly for the first time.
"And if the cousin cannot be found — or if something were to make him ineligible — Marcus inherits everything."
From the hallway, I could hear Nathan's voice.
Low.
Then louder.
Then silence.
He came back through the door.
His face had changed.
"Marcus isn't answering," he said.
"But I just got a text from a number I don't recognize."
He held up the phone so I could read the screen.
*Your brother knows where I am.
Tell him to stop.
May you like
I don't want the money.
I just want to be left alone.*
