Chapter 14: My Father's Name

My mother didn't speak for almost a minute.

I waited.

In my previous life, I had died believing my father was a man named Daniel Vale who had been killed in a highway accident when I was six.

There had been a photograph of him in our old house.

A smiling man holding me on his shoulders.

I still remembered the blue shirt he wore.

My mother folded her hands.

“Daniel was your father in every way that mattered.”

The words hit me before their meaning did.

“What does that mean?”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“He wasn't your biological father.”

I stared at her.

The apartment seemed suddenly too quiet.

“Who is?”

She looked toward the window.

“A man I knew before Daniel.”

“Name.”

“Imogen—”

“Mom.”

My voice cracked.

“Please.”

She closed her eyes.

“Richard Pierce.”

I stopped breathing.

Pierce.

Greer's last name.

“No.”

“I wish I had told you differently.”

“Richard Pierce as in—”

“Greer's father.”

I stood so quickly that pain tore through my healing abdomen.

I grabbed the table.

My mother jumped up.

“Sit down!”

“Greer's father is my father?”

“Biological father.”

“Does he know?”

She didn't answer.

That was an answer.

I laughed once.

It sounded horrible.

Everything rearranged itself.

Mr. Pierce watching me in the hallway.

His warning.

Greer's obsession with humiliating me.

The mysterious suggestion that someone told her to post the photograph.

“Does Greer know?”

“I don't know.”

“How can you not know?”

“Because I haven't spoken to Richard in years.”

My mother wiped her face.

“We were young. He was already involved with the woman he eventually married. I didn't know at first. When I found out I was pregnant, he offered money.”

“And?”

“I refused.”

That sounded exactly like her.

“Daniel knew?”

“Everything.”

Her voice broke.

“He loved you before you were born.”

I sat slowly.

“Why did you tell me he was my biological father?”

“Because after Daniel died, Richard contacted me again.”

My stomach turned.

“What did he want?”

“A legal agreement.”

She walked to the bedroom and returned with an old metal box.

I had seen it before.

She kept tax documents inside.

From beneath several folders, she removed an envelope.

The paper was yellowed at the edges.

“Richard's family was becoming prominent. His marriage was already established. Greer had been born the year before you.”

My eyes snapped to hers.

“She's older than me?”

“By fourteen months.”

My mother handed me the document.

It wasn't a formal contract.

It was correspondence from an attorney offering financial support in exchange for confidentiality and a waiver of future claims against the Pierce estate.

“Did you sign?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you weren't a scandal to be purchased.”

I looked down.

My hands were shaking.

“Did he ever contact me?”

“No.”

She hesitated.

“Not directly.”

“What does that mean?”

“When you received the scholarship to Westbridge, I wondered whether he had something to do with it.”

My head lifted.

“What?”

“Your grades qualified you. You earned it. But the scholarship foundation has Pierce family donors.”

I thought of Greer calling me scholarship princess.

Had she known?

Maybe not at first.

But perhaps someone had told her.

“Why didn't this come out in my previous—”

I stopped.

My mother frowned.

“Your previous what?”

“Nothing.”

I pressed my fingers against my forehead.

In my first life, I had died too early.

Maybe the truth had surfaced afterward.

Maybe that was why Greer's later scandal had become so tangled with her family.

I had never known.

“We need to tell Officer Ramirez.”

My mother stiffened.

“Why?”

“Because if Richard knew who I was, and Greer knew, it could explain motive.”

“Or it could create a scandal that has nothing to do with the threats.”

“That's for the police to decide.”

She looked afraid.

“Mom.”

I reached across the table.

“Secrets aren't protecting us anymore.”

After a long silence, she nodded.

We called Ramirez.

He came the next morning with a detective.

My mother gave them copies of the old attorney correspondence.

Ramirez asked whether Richard Pierce had contacted her recently.

“No.”

“Has anyone associated with him?”

She shook her head.

Then she paused.

“There was a call about six months ago.”

I stared at her.

“From who?”

“Someone from the scholarship foundation asked whether Imogen planned to remain at Westbridge through graduation.”

Ramirez wrote it down.

“Name?”

“I don't remember.”

The detective asked, “Did the caller say why?”

“Administrative records.”

My mind raced.

After they left, I went to school late.

Greer was standing near the main staircase.

She saw me.

I saw her.

For the first time, I looked at her face and searched for something familiar.

Same father.

Half sisters.

The thought made me sick.

Greer walked toward me.

A staff member immediately moved between us because of the no-contact order.

She stopped.

Then she said loudly enough for me to hear:

“Whatever you're planning, don't.”

I stared at her.

She knew.

I was suddenly certain.

“How long?” I asked.

The staff member said, “Imogen, please keep moving.”

But Greer's expression had already answered me.

She had known before she posted that photograph.

Maybe that rumor had never been random.

Maybe she hadn't chosen the scholarship girl because I was an easy target.

Maybe she had chosen her father's other daughter.