Chapter 6: The Woman Who Knew Everything
I drove away from the Mercer estate without saying goodbye.
Margaret had followed me to the entrance, calling my name, but I didn't turn around.
My hands were shaking so badly that I had to pull over twice.
Camille.
The woman who had slept with my husband.
The woman who had mocked me for being unable to conceive.
The woman who had opened the gold-ribboned box and discovered the truth about her baby's paternity.
Now she was claiming an inheritance from a man who had died before she even met the family.
It made no sense.
Unless she knew something I didn't.
I called Beatrix.
“Tell me exactly what happened.””
“I received a formal notice from the trust administrator. Someone has filed a petition asserting a biological connection to Edward Mercer.””
“Camille?””
“Yes.””
“How?””
“She submitted documents identifying herself as a descendant through a previously undisclosed branch of the family.””
I gripped the steering wheel.
“That's impossible.””
“It's suspicious, but we need to examine the filing.””
“She's not Edward's daughter.””
“Not according to anything we've seen so far.””
I took a breath.
“Then how can she claim anything?””
“That's what we're going to find out.””
I returned home and waited for Beatrix.
She arrived carrying two folders.
One contained the trust petition.
The other contained copies of documents submitted by Camille's attorney.
I opened the first page.
It was a formal application requesting recognition as a potential beneficiary.
Under the section titled Basis of Claim, Camille had written:
Descendant of Edward Mercer through maternal lineage.
I read it twice.
“Maternal lineage?””
Beatrix nodded.
“That's the claim.””
“But Camille's mother isn't a Mercer.””
“Not by the information we have.””
I turned the page.
There was a photocopy of a birth certificate.
The mother's name was listed as Vivian Shaw.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Vivian?””
Beatrix nodded.
“Camille claims Vivian is her biological mother.””
I stared at the document.
“That means she's Edward's granddaughter?””
“Potentially.””
I sat down.
The woman who had been my best friend for fifteen years might have been related to me.
Not by marriage.
By blood.
Beatrix continued.
“There's something else. Camille's application says she was adopted as an infant.””
I looked up.
“Adopted?””
“Yes. Her original birth records were sealed. Apparently, she recently obtained access to a copy through a legal request.””
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“Does Roland know?””
“I don't know.””
I stared at the papers.
“Then why did she marry him?””
Beatrix closed the folder.
“That is precisely the question we need answered.””
That evening, Alistair arrived.
He looked like he hadn't slept.
He sat across from me and placed a small envelope on the table.
“I found this in my father's study.””
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph of a baby wrapped in a white blanket.
On the back was a handwritten note.
Vivian's daughter. September 1989.
I looked up.
“Is this Camille?””
Alistair nodded.
“I think so.””
“How do you know?””
“Look at the bracelet.””
I examined the photograph.
A tiny silver bracelet was fastened around the baby's wrist.
Alistair opened another photograph.
It showed Margaret holding a baby at a family gathering.
The same bracelet was visible.
“Why would my mother have a photograph of Camille as a baby?””
I stared at him.
“Because she knew who Camille was.””
Alistair shook his head.
“No. I think she helped arrange the adoption.””
I looked at the photograph again.
A terrible thought began forming.
“Alistair, how old is Camille?””
“Thirty-seven.””
“And when was this photograph taken?””
“September 1989.””
I did the calculation.
The dates matched.
I lowered the photograph.
“Does Camille know?””
“I don't know.””
Then he took a breath.
“But I found something else.””
He placed a photocopy of an old letter on the table.
The handwriting was Edward's.
Margaret,
I cannot allow Vivian's daughter to grow up without knowing where she comes from. If you insist on keeping the child away from me, I will change the trust.
She is my daughter, regardless of what anyone thinks.
Edward.
I looked at Alistair.
“Did Margaret respond?””
He nodded.
He turned over the page.
The response was written in Margaret's handwriting.
You have already given that woman enough. The child will have a better life away from this family. I will make sure she is cared for.
My stomach tightened.
“Margaret arranged Camille's adoption.””
Alistair nodded slowly.
“And I think she chose the family herself.””
I stared at him.
“Did she know Camille would become my best friend?””
“No.””
“Did she know Camille would marry Roland?””
He looked at me.
“I don't think so.””
I sat back.
The room seemed to spin.
For fifteen years, Camille had been beside me.
She had attended my birthday parties.
She had slept in my apartment.
She had held my hand when I cried over my mother's death.
And all that time, she might have been the granddaughter Edward had desperately wanted to protect.
A Mercer by blood.
A stranger to the family.
Just like me.
Except she had known.
I suddenly remembered something.
A conversation from college.
Camille had been looking through an old photograph album at my apartment.
She had stopped at a picture of my mother.
“Evelyn,” she had asked, “did your mother ever tell you anything about your biological father?””
I had laughed.
“No. Why?””
She had shrugged.
“Just curious.””
I had thought nothing of it.
Now that memory felt like a warning.
I picked up my phone.
“I'm calling her.””
Beatrix's voice from earlier echoed in my mind.
Don't contact Camille.
I put the phone down.
Alistair watched me.
“Don't.””
I looked at him.
“She knows.””
“Probably.””
“Then I need to hear it from her.””
He shook his head.
“Evelyn, she's already lied to both of us. Don't give her another chance to manipulate you.””
I looked at the photograph.
“Then we need to know what she was planning.””
The answer came the following morning.
Camille sent me a message.
*Camille:* I know you have questions. Meet me alone. Please.
I showed it to Beatrix.
She frowned.
“Absolutely not.””
“Why?””
“Because she has a pending inheritance claim, a disputed pregnancy, and a complicated relationship with both Mercer brothers. You don't meet her alone.””
I considered that.
“Then I'll meet her in your office.””
Beatrix sighed.
“I'll be there.””
We arranged the meeting for noon.
Camille arrived wearing dark sunglasses and carrying a leather handbag.
She looked at Alistair, who was sitting beside me.
“You brought him?””
I replied, “He's part of the story.””
She lowered her sunglasses.
“I wanted to speak to you privately.””
“You've had fifteen years to speak to me privately.””
She flinched.
Beatrix gestured toward the chair.
“Please sit down.””
Camille sat.
For a few moments, she stared at her hands.
Then she looked at me.
“Do you remember when we met?””
I frowned.
“College orientation.””
“You were sitting outside the library. You had a blue notebook and a terrible haircut.””
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
“I remember the haircut.””
“You were crying.””
“I wasn't.””
“You were. You had failed your first statistics exam.””
I looked at her.
She gave a small, sad smile.
“I sat beside you. We talked for three hours.””
I nodded.
“Why are you bringing this up?””
“Because I didn't know who you were then.””
“Who I was?””
She took a breath.
“I was adopted. I knew that. But I didn't know my biological family.””
I stared at her.
“When did you find out?””
“Eight years ago.””
The room went still.
Eight years.
That was before Roland and I discovered our fertility problems.
Before Camille became my shoulder to cry on.
Before she began sleeping with my husband.
“Who told you?”” I asked.
“Margaret.””
I felt my stomach tighten.
Camille continued.
“She contacted me after I requested my original birth records. She said I was Edward Mercer's granddaughter.””
Alistair leaned forward.
“Why didn't you tell us?””
Camille looked at him.
“Because Margaret told me not to.””
“That's not an answer.””
“She said the family was unstable. She said Roland would never accept me. She said there was a trust, and that if I revealed myself too early, I could lose everything.””
Beatrix interrupted.
“What exactly did Margaret promise you?””
Camille looked down.
“She promised that I would eventually receive my inheritance.””
“And how did Roland fit into that?””
Camille hesitated.
“He was supposed to help me.””
I stared at her.
“Help you how?””
She finally met my eyes.
“By marrying someone who already had a connection to Edward's estate.””
I felt my stomach drop.
“Me.””
Camille nodded.
“Margaret told Roland that you were Edward's daughter. She believed that if he married you, he could eventually convince you to sign over your rights.””
I shook my head.
“And you were involved?””
“Not at first.””
“But you knew.””
“Yes.””
I leaned forward.
“Camille, when did you become my friend?””
Her eyes filled.
“Before I knew who you were.””
“Then why did you stay?””
She began crying.
“Because I loved you.””
I stared at her.
“You loved me?””
“Yes.””
“Enough to sleep with my husband?””
She covered her face.
“I know.””
“Enough to watch me inject myself with medication while you knew he had been diagnosed with infertility?””
Camille lowered her hands.
“I didn't know the full diagnosis until after I became involved with Roland.””
“That's not true.””
She shook her head.
“Margaret told me later.””
“When?””
“After you caught us.””
I felt something inside me break again.
So even after the affair was exposed, Camille knew.
She knew the truth.
And she still allowed me to believe I had failed.
Beatrix leaned forward.
“Let's discuss the inheritance claim. Why have you submitted it now?””
Camille looked at the table.
“Because I need the money.””
Alistair laughed bitterly.
“You married Roland.””
“Roland's business is in trouble.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“He has debts. Large ones. He hasn't told his mother.””
Alistair's expression changed.
“How much?””
“Several million.””
I stared at her.
“And the baby?””
Camille looked down.
“Roland believed the baby would secure his position in the family trust.””
“But you knew Alistair was the father.””
“Yes.””
“And you knew you were Edward's granddaughter.””
“Yes.””
Beatrix asked, “Then why are you allowing Roland to believe the baby is his?””
Camille's answer came in a whisper.
“Because if he learns the truth, he'll destroy me.””
Alistair stood.
“You're already destroying everyone else.””
Camille started crying.
“Alistair, please.””
He pointed toward the documents.
“You knew I might be the father. You knew about Roland's diagnosis. You knew about the inheritance. And you still let me believe you wanted a life with me.””
“I did want a life with you.””
“No. You wanted a way out.””
Camille lowered her head.
Beatrix closed her notebook.
“Camille, I need you to answer one final question.””
Camille looked up.
“Did Margaret know that you and Roland were involved?””
“Yes.””
“Did she encourage the affair?””
Camille nodded.
I stared at her.
“Why?””
Camille's face crumpled.
“Because she wanted Roland to divorce you.””
“Why?””
She looked at me.
“Because Margaret believed that if you stayed married to Roland long enough, you might eventually inherit Edward's estate. She wanted to separate you from him before that happened.””
I felt a cold wave move through my body.
“But she introduced us.””
“Yes.””
“Then why?””
Camille hesitated.
“Because she thought Roland could control you.””
I couldn't speak.
Beatrix slowly closed the folder.
“That's enough for today.””
Camille stood.
Before she left, she turned toward me.
“Evelyn, there's something you need to know about your mother.””
I looked up.
“What?””
Camille swallowed.
“Margaret told me that Grace didn't die naturally.””
My entire body went cold.
“What did you say?””
Camille began shaking.
“She said your mother was involved in something Edward wanted buried. She said that's why she disappeared.””
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped against the floor.
“Are you saying my mother was murdered?””
Camille shook her head.
“I don't know.””
“Then why would you say that?””
“Because Margaret told me she had proof.””
I stared at her.
“What proof?””
Camille reached into her handbag.
She removed a small photograph.
It showed my mother standing outside a hospital.
Beside her was Edward Mercer.
And behind them, partially hidden by a doorway, stood Margaret.
The photograph was dated six months before my mother's death.
I took it with trembling hands.
On the back was a handwritten note.
Grace knows about the second child. She must never speak.
I looked at Camille.
“Where did you get this?””
“From Margaret's private safe.””
Beatrix immediately took the photograph.
“Who else has seen it?””
“Only me.””
“Does Margaret know you have it?””
Camille shook her head.
“No.””
Alistair stared at the photograph.
Then he whispered:
“That's not possible.””
I turned toward him.
“What?””
He pointed to the hospital entrance.
“That's St. Catherine's. Dad died there.””
I looked again.
The photograph had been taken six months before my mother's death.
Edward was standing beside her.
Which meant my mother had met him again.
After telling me he was gone.
And if Margaret had been there too, then the three of them had been involved in something much more complicated than a hidden inheritance.
Beatrix carefully placed the photograph inside a folder.
“We're stopping here. I want this examined before anyone makes another accusation.””
I nodded, but my mind was racing.
My mother had known about another child.
Margaret had known about my mother.
And Camille had somehow become the person holding the evidence.
Then Alistair's phone rang.
He glanced at the screen.
His expression changed.
“It's Roland.””
He answered.
“Hello?””
A voice exploded through the speaker.
“Where is she?””
Alistair looked at me.
“Who?””
“Evelyn. I know she's with you.””
Alistair stood.
“What do you want?””
Roland laughed bitterly.
“I want you to stop pretending you're innocent.””
“Roland—”
“Mother told me everything. I know about the photograph. I know about the inheritance claim. And I know Evelyn has been talking to Camille.””
Alistair's face hardened.
“What are you trying to say?””
Roland's voice dropped.
“Tell Evelyn that if she wants to know what happened to her mother, she should ask the woman who was standing beside her in that hospital.””
The call ended.
I looked at Beatrix.
Then at Alistair.
For the first time, I understood why Margaret had been so frightened when I mentioned the photograph.
The secret wasn't simply that Edward had another daughter.
It wasn't even that Roland had married me for money.
Someone knew what had happened to my mother.
And that person had been standing beside her when the photograph was taken.
I picked up my coat.
“Where are you going?”” Beatrix asked.
I looked at the photograph one last time.
“To find Margaret.””
Beatrix shook her head.
“Evelyn, no. Not until we understand what that photograph proves.””
I paused.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
*Unknown:* Your mother didn't die because of an illness. She died because she discovered what happened to Edward's second daughter.
A second message followed.
*Unknown:* If you want the truth, come to the old Mercer boathouse tonight. Come alone.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
It contained a photograph.
A photograph of a woman standing beside a lake.
She looked older, thinner, and her hair was almost completely gray.
But I recognized her.
It was my mother.
And the date printed beneath the photograph was two weeks after the date on her death certificate.
My fingers went numb.
Because according to every document I had ever seen, my mother had been dead for five years.
Yet someone had photographed her alive.
May you like
Two weeks later.
And whoever sent that message knew exactly where to find me.
