She was his sister.”
“Stepsister,” Margaret said.
I looked at Rose.
She nodded.
“My mother married his father.”
I couldn’t process it.
Every revelation opened another door behind it.
Harold had abused Rose.
Rose became pregnant.
Harold, terrified of exposure, tried to make the child disappear.
Me.
The hospital fire.
The false identity.
Helen taking me.
Margaret hiring me decades later.
My life rearranged itself in front of me like shattered glass.
“Why did you hire me?”
I asked.
Margaret’s voice broke.
“Because after Harold died, I found his papers.”
“What papers?”
“A private investigator’s reports.”
My blood ran cold.
“He had been
searching for you.”
“Why?”
“I thought he wanted to make amends.”
Rose laughed from across the room.
Margaret looked at her.
“I believed that.”
“But?”
Margaret reached into her purse.
She handed me a folded paper.
It was old.
