Chapter 11 - The Woman I Wanted to Hate
I agreed to meet Camille in a private room at Rebecca’s law firm.
Luka hated the idea.
Rebecca hated it slightly less.
Two armed guards waited outside.
Camille entered wearing a cream coat and oversized sunglasses.
She looked nothing like the smug woman beside Derek at the hospital gate.
She looked terrified.
“Where is Derek?”
“I don’t know.”
“You left him?”
Her mouth tightened.
“He left me.”
I almost smiled.
Then I remembered she was pregnant.
“I’m not going to pretend I feel sorry for you.”
“I wouldn’t.”
She removed her sunglasses.
Her eyes were swollen.
“I knew he was married.”
At least she did not lie.
“I thought he was leaving you.”
“He did.”
“No.”
Camille shook her head.
“He abandoned both of us.”
She placed a phone on the table.
Three nights earlier, she had overheard Derek and Malcolm arguing.
The recording was damaged.
But several words were clear.
M-17.
Bennett girl.
Trust.
And one sentence from Malcolm.
You were supposed to keep Elena under control until the child was born.
My hands went cold.
Camille continued.
“Derek told me you cheated.”
“He lied.”
“I know that now.”
She rubbed her stomach.
“He told me my baby was his.”
“Do you believe him?”
Her eyes filled.
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Why did you mention Elena’s sister?”
Camille took a shaky breath.
“My mother is Cassandra Voss.”
I already knew.
“What did she tell you?”
“Nothing.”
Camille looked at me.
“She died when I was sixteen.”
“I’m sorry.”
“She left a locked box.”
Inside were adoption records.
Hospital tags.
Photographs.
And a letter.
Camille placed a photocopy on the table.
The handwriting was unfamiliar.
But the signature was not.
Samuel Crane.
The dead doctor.
The letter said Cassandra had been placed with the Voss family under a private adoption arranged after an “emergency neonatal transfer.”
No biological mother was listed.
But there was a code.
M-17B.
My chest tightened.
Camille looked at me.
“You think she was your sister.”
“Yes.”
“And that would make you…”
“My aunt.”
The word felt impossible.
Camille covered her mouth.
A strange silence settled between us.
The woman I had hated for sleeping with my husband might be the daughter of the sister stolen from my mother.
Then Luka entered.
He held the DNA report.
His expression told me before he spoke.
“Elena.”
He placed it on the table.
“You and Camille are biologically related.”
Camille began crying.
I could not move.
“My sister…”
Luka nodded.
“Cassandra was almost certainly Baby B.”
For twenty-five years, M-17 had hidden my sister.
Now it had brought her daughter directly into my marriage.
But Luka had one more result.
He looked at Camille.
“The fetal paternity test you were given was also false.”
Her face turned white.
“Then who is my baby’s father?”
Luka looked toward the sealed envelope in his hand.
“We don’t know yet.”
But I saw something in his eyes.
May you like
He had a suspicion.
And whatever it was, he did not want to say it aloud.
