Chapter 77
EMMA
The silence that followed was deafening except for my ragged breathing. Elaine stepped closer, her eyes boring into mine with an intensity that made me want to shrink away.
"You're right about one thing," she said quietly, each word precisely enunciated. "We only have one daughter. But that's Aria. It was never you."
She paused, her expression shifting subtly, and something flickered in her eyes—knowledge, certainty, something that made my blood freeze.
"And the only person who fell from that cliff and got eaten by fish... was just one person."
I stared at her, my heart stopping completely. The way she said it, the look in her eyes—what did she know? What did she mean?
Before I could process Elaine's chilling words, two burly security guards materialized behind me. They grabbed my arms with unnecessary force, ignoring my protests as they marched me toward the mansion's grand entrance.
"Get your hands off me! You can't just throw me out!" I yelled, struggling against their grip. They ignored me completely, shoving me out the door while another staff member tossed my suitcase onto the circular driveway.
I stumbled, catching myself before falling completely. The elderly maid, who had served the Grants for decades, hobbled past and deliberately stepped on my outstretched fingers. I yanked my hand back with a yelp.
"Trash belongs outside," she muttered.
A group of women power-walking through the neighborhood slowed their pace, recognition dawning on their faces. Their phones came up in unison.
"Oh my God, that's Emma Grant!" one stage-whispered, furiously tapping her screen. "This is totally going viral."
A sleek charcoal sedan pulled alongside me. The tinted window lowered. With my reputation disintegrating in real-time, I grabbed my suitcase, yanked open the car door, and slid inside, fury and humiliation burning through me as we sped away.
RICHARD
From the moment I saw Aria's pendant, suspicion gnawed at me. The blue sapphire pendant - identical to the one I'd given Elaine twenty-three years ago. The coincidence was too perfect, too painful to be random.
"Elaine," I said, keeping my voice steady as I entered our bedroom. She sat at her vanity, brushing her hair - a nightly ritual unchanged for decades. "Do you still have that sapphire pendant I gave you before Emma was born?"
She turned, surprise crossing her face. "Of course I do. Why would you ask about that now?"
"Please, just show me."
Elaine opened her jewelry box and removed a small velvet pouch. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled out the blue sapphire pendant. It caught the light, throwing blue reflections across the room.
"Do you remember what I had engraved on it?" I asked, my throat tight.
She nodded, turning it over. The inscription read: "My Wife - Health, Joy, Peace."
The pendant was identical to Aria's - except hers was smaller, almost like a child's version. My heart hammered against my ribs. The implications were staggering.
"Richard? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." Elaine's concerned voice barely registered.
"I need to ask you something about your pregnancy with Emma." I took her hands in mine, noticing how cold they felt. "Tell me again about the early delivery."
Elaine's expression softened into melancholy. "Why are you bringing this up now?"
"Please, it's important."
She sighed, her eyes distant with memory. "The pregnancy was perfect until the end. Every checkup showed a healthy baby girl." Her hand unconsciously moved to her abdomen. "Then everything went wrong. You were away on business when I went into labor, almost two weeks early."
"What happened exactly?" I pressed, fighting to keep my voice neutral.
"I was in the greenhouse, admiring the new orchids." Her voice grew quieter. "I remember feeling dizzy, then falling. No one heard me scream - that greenhouse was too well-insulated." A bitter laugh escaped her. "Ironic that the perfect acoustics you insisted on nearly killed me."
The guilt hit hard. I'd been closing a deal while my wife nearly died alone.
"The doctors said we were lucky to survive. If I hadn't made that call..." She trembled. "My body never recovered, but we got Emma."
I held her close. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."
"It was twenty-three years ago. Emma turned out beautiful. Everything's fine."
But everything wasn't fine. The suspicion growing in my mind was becoming certainty.
After Elaine fell asleep, I called my assistant.
"Find every nurse who worked NICU at New York Central in June 2002. Night shift. This stays between us."
Weeks of dead ends led to Patricia Winters, a former nurse who'd quit suddenly after Emma's birth and moved to Boston. My security team brought her to a hotel room.
"You worked NICU at New York Central twenty-three years ago," I said.
Patricia's eyes darted between us. "I thought you were debt collectors."
I showed her a birth certificate and DNA report. "We know what happened."
Her face went white. "You found out?"
"Tell us everything."
She collapsed into her chair. "I needed money. My boyfriend had gambling debts. Christine offered fifty thousand to switch two babies."
"Christine Taylor? Our housekeeper?" Elaine's voice cracked.
Patricia nodded. "She was obsessed with your husband. Said her daughter deserved the Grant name."
"That's insane," I muttered, though the pieces fit.
"There's more. The greenhouse fall wasn't an accident. Christine said she tampered with the stones. She wanted you both dead."
Elaine gasped.
"When that failed, she came to the hospital. Your baby was in NICU for observation. Christine brought her daughter, born two days earlier."
"And you switched them."
"Yes, Mrs. Grant had put a pendant in her daughter's bassinet. After I switched the babies, Christine insisted I transfer it to her baby—the one you'd take home. But I never found the chance to give it back to Christine."
"Aria is my daughter," Elaine whispered.
The truth crashed over me. Emma wasn't ours. Aria—brilliant, determined Aria—was our flesh and blood.
"Christine wanted her daughter to call you Daddy," Patricia added. "She was obsessed with you."
Every memory of Emma calling me "Daddy" suddenly felt poisoned.
Elaine wept, clutching the pendant. "I always felt drawn to Aria. My heart knew."
I pulled out my phone to call Aria, then saw dozens of missed messages. One from our household manager made my blood freeze.
"What is it?" Elaine asked, seeing my face.
"Aaron is dead. Drowned three days ago at Redwood Medical Center. The funeral was yesterday."
Elaine covered her mouth.
"Aria handled everything alone."
Our daughter had just buried the only father she'd ever known, while we discovered she was never his to begin with. I know she'll be heartbroken. We have to find her, in case she does something foolish.