Chapter 4 - the brother who died twice
Thomas Ashford had been dead for five years.
At least that was what everyone believed.
Daniel's older brother disappeared during a sailing accident off the coast of Maine.
The Coast Guard searched for four days.
Pieces of the vessel were recovered.
Thomas was not.
Seven months later he was legally declared dead.
Daniel inherited the remainder of the family voting trust.
Ashford Holdings consolidated under him.
The newspapers called it tragedy.
Investors called it stability.
Daniel called it the worst year of his life.
Claire had known Thomas briefly.
Enough to recognize his handwriting.
He wrote capital T's with an exaggerated horizontal line.
His R's leaned backward.
And he always connected the final two letters of Claire's name.
The note on the desk carried all three habits.
Make Claire leave.
Daniel stared at it.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Handwriting can be copied."
"I know."
Vivian moved toward the door.
Marcus blocked her.
She glared at him.
"You cannot hold me."
Daniel picked up the envelope.
"This came from my mother's stationery."
"Which proves nothing."
"And contains handwriting resembling Thomas."
"Again, nothing."
"And came from your grandson."
Vivian looked at Preston.
The child lowered his eyes.
Daniel continued.
"You should call your attorney."
"I already have."
Daniel almost smiled.
"Good."
Vivian left with Marcus following.
Claire stood motionless.
Daniel poured water into a glass and handed it to her.
She did not take it.
"Thomas hated me."
Daniel's voice was careful.
"He hated everyone."
"No. He hated me specifically."
"Why?"
Claire looked toward Lily.
Rachel understood.
"I'll take her downstairs."
Lily did not want to leave.
Claire kissed her forehead.
"Five minutes."
Once Lily was gone, Claire shut the library door.
"Two days after I told you I was pregnant, Thomas came to my apartment."
Daniel froze.
"You never told me."
"I tried."
"What happened?"
"He offered me money."
Daniel's jaw tightened.
"How much?"
"Two million dollars."
"For what?"
"To disappear."
Daniel turned away.
Claire continued.
"He said your family couldn't survive another scandal. He said your mother was sick, your board was unstable, and if you married someone like me, investors would use it as proof you weren't serious enough to run the company."
"Someone like you?"
"A woman without a family name they respected."
Daniel's hands curled.
"I told him no."
"What did he do?"
"He threatened me."
Daniel turned back.
"How?"
"He said if I stayed, he'd make sure you believed the baby wasn't yours."
Daniel went still.
Claire opened her phone and searched through an old encrypted archive.
She found a photograph.
A paper from seven years earlier.
Daniel read it.
A DNA laboratory report.
Probability of paternity: 0.00 percent.
Daniel stared at her.
"This was fake."
"Obviously."
"Why did you have it?"
"Because Thomas mailed it to me."
"Did he send one to me?"
"I assumed he had."
Daniel paced once across the room.
Claire watched pieces rearranging inside him.
"I received a report."
Her heart stopped.
"When?"
"Six weeks after you vanished."
"I didn't vanish."
"I know that now."
"What did yours say?"
Daniel looked at her.
"Ninety-nine point nine percent probability that the father was someone else."
Claire stared.
"Someone else?"
"The report identified a name."
"Who?"
"Michael Bennett."
Claire laughed once.
It was not amusement.
"Michael was my brother."
"I know that now."
"My brother died when I was nineteen."
"I know."
Claire felt sick.
"So Thomas fabricated two different reports."
"It appears that way."
"But why use my dead brother's name?"
"Because he wanted me to think your family was participating."
Claire sat.
Every cruel silence from seven years ago suddenly had architecture.
Someone had built it.
Someone had planned misunderstandings so precisely that each victim would blame the other.
Daniel sat opposite her.
"I tried to find you after the report."
"No, you didn't."
"I went to your apartment."
"I had been evicted."
"I went to your office."
"I lost my job."
"I called."
"My number was disconnected."
"I emailed."
"My account was hacked."
Daniel stared.
"You knew?"
"I thought it was identity theft."
"What about your bank?"
Claire looked at him.
"Frozen for six weeks."
Daniel closed his eyes.
"Thomas."
Claire's voice softened despite herself.
"Why would he do all that?"
Daniel's answer came immediately.
"Control."
But Claire sensed there was more.
"Control of what?"
Daniel looked toward the windows.
"Everything our father built."
Then his phone vibrated.
Marcus.
Daniel answered.
"What did you find?"
He listened.
His face changed.
"When?"
Another pause.
"Don't touch anything."
He ended the call.
Claire stood.
"What?"
"Marcus searched a storage room registered to Whitmore Strategic Consulting."
"And?"
"They found boxes."
"What kind of boxes?"
"Your letters."
Claire stopped breathing.
"All of them?"
"At least twenty."
Tears appeared before she could stop them.
Seven birthdays.
Seven Christmases.
Seven years of words never received.
Daniel looked devastated.
"There was something else."
"What?"
"A photograph."
"Of what?"
Daniel hesitated.
"Thomas."
Claire's skin went cold.
May you like
"When was it taken?"
"Three months ago."
