Chapter 3 - The Dead Woman Walked Into the Gala
Three hundred guests watched my mother stare at the woman whose funeral she had organized.
Nobody moved.
Then Margaret recovered.
She always recovered.
“My God.”
She rushed toward Elena.
“Elena!”
Rebecca stepped between them.
“Please remain where you are, Mrs. Mercer.”
Mother stopped.
Her expression changed instantly.
Confusion.
Concern.
Innocence.
“What is this?”
Elena was trembling.
I crossed the room.
Mother looked at me.
“Daniel, somebody needs to call an ambulance. Clearly this woman—”
“This woman is my wife.”
Mother stared at me.
“You don’t know that.”
Elena recoiled.
I didn’t.
I had expected something like this.
“Actually, Mother, I do.”
Her eyes narrowed.
Dr. Whitmore moved toward an exit.
Detective Reed blocked him.
“Doctor, could you stay for a moment?”
Whitmore stopped.
Guests began whispering.
Phones appeared.
The story would be everywhere by morning.
But I didn’t care about the Mercer reputation anymore.
I cared about Elena.
And Lily.
Mother noticed the baby.
Her face changed.
That was the moment I knew.
Not suspected.
Knew.
Because Margaret looked at Lily with recognition.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
Elena saw it too.
“You remember her,” she said.
Mother’s jaw tightened.
“I’ve never seen that child.”
Elena reached for the recorder.
Rebecca stopped her gently.
“We have it.”
Mother looked at Rebecca.
“What recorder?”
Nobody had mentioned a recorder.
Rebecca’s expression remained neutral.
“Did someone say there was one?”
Mother realized her mistake.
Too late.
I stepped closer.
“Where is the farmhouse?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Northstar Agricultural Holdings.”
Her eyes flickered.
Again.
Tiny.
But there.
Dr. Whitmore suddenly said, “Margaret, don’t say anything else.”
Every head turned.
Mother stared at him.
I almost smiled.
Whitmore had just made the situation worse.
Detective Reed approached him.
“Why shouldn’t she say anything else?”
“I’m her physician.”
“Then give medical advice, Doctor. Not legal advice.”
Whitmore said nothing.
Rebecca asked the guests to remain calm while officers secured the relevant areas.
Mother turned toward me.
“Daniel, whatever Elena has told you, she is confused.”
Elena’s face hardened.
“Say it again.”
Mother ignored her.
“She has obviously been through something traumatic.”
“You kidnapped me.”
Gasps spread through the ballroom.
Mother looked around.
She cared about the audience.
That was her weakness.
Elena stepped forward.
“You told Daniel I was dead.”
“Enough.”
“You buried an empty coffin.”
“Enough!”
Mother’s voice echoed through the ballroom.
There she was.
The real Margaret.
Elena stared at her.
“You took two years from us.”
Mother’s composure cracked.
“You were destroying this family!”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Mother realized what she had said.
Rebecca didn’t react.
She didn’t need to.
Elena did.
“How?”
Mother’s breathing quickened.
“You were turning Daniel against everything his father built.”
“I loved him.”
“You made him weak.”
I stepped between them.
“No, Mother.”
She looked at me.
“You did.”
Her face changed.
For the first time, I saw fear.
Not fear of prison.
Fear of losing me.
Sirens became audible outside.
More officers.
Mother whispered, “Daniel, we can fix this.”
“No.”
“I protected you.”
“You stole my wife.”
“She was going to take you away.”
“I would have followed her.”
That answer destroyed something inside Margaret.
She stared at me as if she had spent two years building a reality that one sentence had demolished.
Officers approached.
Dr. Whitmore tried to leave again.
This time, Reed stopped him physically.
“Doctor, stay where you are.”
Whitmore’s forehead glistened.
Then Rebecca’s phone rang.
She listened.
Her eyes shifted toward Elena.
Then toward me.
“They found the farmhouse.”
Elena covered her mouth.
Rebecca continued.
“Same property listed through Northstar.”
Mother closed her eyes.
“And there’s someone inside.”
Elena looked up sharply.
“Who?”
Rebecca didn’t answer immediately.
That frightened me.
“Who is inside?”
“A man.”
Elena’s face went white.
“The guard?”
“No.”
Rebecca looked at me.
“He says his name is Thomas Mercer.”
My blood turned cold.
Thomas Mercer was my father.
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And my father had supposedly been dead for nine years.
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