My best friend had been dead for eighteen years when she rang my doorbell and asked for two million dollars.+
Chapter 2
My mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing.
“You died.”
Lauren laughed softly. “Obviously not.”
The man beside her handed me a stack of papers. He introduced himself as Victor Bell, Lauren’s attorney, and said the documents challenged the legality of Emily’s adoption.
My hands started shaking.
“You faked your death?”
Lauren walked past me without permission.
She looked around the apartment with faint disappointment, as if eighteen years of my life had failed to meet her decorating standards.
“I needed a fresh start.”
“A fresh start?”
“The medical records were exaggerated. The hospice worker helped with the paperwork. It wasn’t as difficult as you’d think.”
I felt physically sick.
“You abandoned a three-year-old.”
Lauren’s expression hardened. “I made sure she was cared for.”
“You made me bury you.”
“I knew you could handle Emily.”
That was when Emily walked into the living room.
She stopped.
Lauren’s face changed instantly, becoming soft and maternal.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Emily looked at her, then at me.
“Who is that?”
Lauren actually flinched.
“I’m your mother.”
Emily’s face remained blank.
“No. Claire is my mother.”
Lauren lost control for half a second.
“I gave birth to you.”
“And then disappeared.”
Lauren began explaining herself. She said she’d been overwhelmed and frightened. She said she had needed freedom. She claimed she’d always intended to return.
Then the truth emerged.
Her second husband had died. There were debts. Investments had gone bad. Creditors were circling.
She wanted the insurance money.
“You cannot seriously think you’re entitled to that,” I said.
Lauren turned on me.
“You were never her mother, Claire. You were the hired help. I gave birth to her.”
Something in me went cold.
I had sat beside Emily through nightmares, braces, heartbreak, therapy appointments, school concerts, stomach viruses, college applications, and the darkest night of her life.
Lauren had given birth.
I had stayed.
Before I could answer, Emily walked into her bedroom.
She returned carrying a thick manila folder.
“Actually,” she said, “I’ve been expecting you.”
Lauren stared at her.
Emily placed photographs, banking records, and photocopied documents across the coffee table.
“I found out you were alive three years ago.”
I turned toward her.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
She called me Mom deliberately.
“I hired an investigator when I turned eighteen.”
Lauren’s face had drained of color.
Emily pointed to a photograph.
“Diana Vega. That’s the name you’ve been using in Florida, right?”
Lauren stepped backward.
Emily placed another document on the table.
“Fake Social Security number. False driver’s license. Bank accounts under at least two identities. And apparently there are some people who would love to speak with you about insurance fraud.”
Victor, the attorney, interrupted.
“Miss Hayes, I advise you to stop talking.”
Emily smiled.
“You might want to take your own advice.”
She pulled out her phone.
A recording began playing.
Lauren’s voice filled the room.
She was discussing forged certificates, false identities, and paying someone to keep quiet.
Victor went completely still.
The recording was recent.
Emily looked at him.
“You talk loudly when you’ve been drinking at airport bars.”
Victor closed his briefcase.
“I’m leaving.”
Lauren grabbed his arm. “You work for me.”
“Not anymore.”
He was out the door before she could stop him.
Lauren’s confidence vanished.
She started crying.
“Emily, please. I’m still your mother.”
“No,” Emily said. “You’re the woman who gave birth to me.”
She pointed toward me.
“That’s my mother.”
Lauren wiped her eyes.
“I watched you grow up.”
Emily laughed bitterly.
“You watched?”
“I followed everything online.”
“You watched her sell her car because I needed treatment. You watched her turn down jobs because I couldn’t be left alone. You watched me almost die when I was fifteen.”
Lauren looked at me.
For eighteen years, she had been alive.
While I counted dollars at pharmacy counters, she was alive.
While Emily screamed for her mother in the night, she was alive.
While I sat beside a hospital bed begging a fifteen-year-old girl to stay in this world, Lauren was alive.
“You knew?” I whispered.
“I kept track.”
My hands curled into fists.
Emily stepped beside me and took my hand.
“The insurance company knows too,” she said. “I sent them everything months ago.”
Lauren swayed.
“What?”
“The trust is frozen while they investigate.”
Lauren’s face twisted.
“You ruined everything.”
“No,” I said. “You did that eighteen years ago.”
Lauren threatened lawsuits. She threatened to overturn the adoption and drag us through court until we had nothing left.
Emily calmly handed her another document.
A restraining order.
“Come near either of us again and we’ll call the police.”
For the first time, Lauren looked frightened.
She stared at Emily.
“I loved you.”
Emily’s eyes filled, but her voice never shook.
“Your version of love was never enough.”
Lauren left.
For several minutes, Emily and I stood in silence.
Then she collapsed into my arms.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because you’ve protected me my whole life. I wanted to protect you once.”
We sat together on the same couch where a three-year-old Emily had once eaten dry cereal and watched cartoons.
I thought the worst was over.
I was wrong.
Three days later, the phone calls began.
