Chapter 4: The Secret My Sister Left Behind
I sat in my car for almost five minutes without starting the engine.
Mia was in the back seat, quietly hugging Rosie against her chest.
The doll that had started this nightmare.
The doll that had been left on Lorraine’s porch like someone wanted me to find it.
Like someone wanted me to know something was wrong.
My hands rested on the steering wheel, but I couldn’t move.
Four years ago.
The date written on the back of the paper.
The exact day Claire died.
I remembered that day with painful clarity.
The hospital room.
The rain tapping against the window.
The smell of coffee from the vending machine.
The phone call that changed my life forever.
My sister had been twenty-nine years old.
She had always been the person who told me the truth, even when I didn’t want to hear it.
Claire was the opposite of Lorraine.
Where Lorraine measured every word like a weapon, Claire said whatever she was thinking.
Where Lorraine made me feel like I was failing, Claire reminded me I was trying.
When I was pregnant with Mia, Claire was the first person I called.
Not Jackson.
Not our parents.
Claire.
She answered the phone at two in the morning while I cried because I was convinced I would be a terrible mother.
“Emily,” she had said, laughing softly, “the fact that you’re already worried about being a good mom means you’re going to be one.””
I smiled at the memory.
Then it disappeared.
Because Claire wasn’t here.
And someone had written her name on a message meant to hurt me.
I looked into the rearview mirror.
“Mia?””
She looked up.
“Yes, Mommy?””
“Did Grandma say anything else about Aunt Claire?””
Her fingers tightened around Rosie.
“No.””
“Are you sure?””
She nodded.
Then she whispered:
“She said Aunt Claire was scary.””
My stomach turned.
“Scary?””
Mia nodded.
“She said Aunt Claire wanted to take me away.””
I felt cold.
Not because I believed it.
Because I understood what Lorraine had been doing.
She had been planting fear.
In my daughter.
About my sister.
A woman who wasn’t even alive to defend herself.
I turned around in my seat.
“Mia, listen to Mommy.””
She looked at me.
“Aunt Claire loved you very much.””
“But she didn’t know me.””
I swallowed.
“No. She didn’t get to meet you.””
“Why?””
The question was innocent.
Simple.
But it cut deeper than anything Lorraine could have said.
“Because sometimes people leave us too soon.””
Mia looked down at Rosie.
“Like Rosie?””
I forced a small smile.
“Yes. Like Rosie when she got lost.””
She hugged the doll tighter.
“But Rosie came back.””
I looked away.
Because Claire didn’t.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Jackson.
*Can we talk? Please.*
I stared at the screen.
A part of me wanted to ignore him.
Another part knew I needed answers.
I typed back.
*Come home. We need to talk.*
Twenty minutes later, Jackson walked through the front door.
He looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
His shoulders were tense, and he kept rubbing his hands together.
That was something he did when he knew he had done something wrong.
“Mia asleep?”” he asked.
I nodded toward the hallway.
“She’s in her room.””
He lowered his voice.
“Is she okay?””
“She’s scared.””
His face fell.
“I didn’t know.””
I stared at him.
“That’s the problem.””
He looked down.
“I know.””
“No, Jackson. You don’t.””
I placed the paper on the kitchen counter.
His eyes moved to it.
Immediately, his expression changed.
“You found that?””
“You knew something.””
He looked away.
“Emily.””
“No.””
My voice shook.
“No more protecting your mother.””
“I’m not protecting her.””
“You are.””
He was quiet.
Then he sat down.
“I should have told you.””
My heart sank.
“Told me what?””
He stared at the paper.
“About Claire.””
I crossed my arms.
“Start talking.””
Jackson took a deep breath.
“After Mia was born, Mom came to the hospital.””
“I know.””
“She wasn’t there just to see the baby.””
“What do you mean?””
“She wanted to talk to me.””
A strange feeling moved through my chest.
“About what?””
“About you.””
I laughed once, but there was no humor in it.
“Of course.””
“She said you were unstable.””
My face went still.
“What?””
“She said losing Claire affected you more than you admitted.””
I felt my jaw tighten.
“My sister died.””
“I know.””
“She was my best friend.””
“I know.””
“And your mother called me unstable?””
“She said she was worried.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“That’s what she always says.””
Jackson looked at me.
“What do you mean?””
“She never says she’s trying to control me. She says she’s worried.””
Silence.
Because he knew it was true.
“She told me not to let Claire’s death affect how we raised Mia.””
I stared at him.
“Why?””
“I don’t know.””
“You do.””
He looked uncomfortable.
“Jackson.””
Finally, he whispered:
“Because Claire had been asking questions.””
My skin went cold.
“About what?””
He rubbed his face.
“Before she died, she was upset.””
“About what?””
“She thought something was wrong.””
“With who?””
He didn’t answer.
I already knew.
“Your mother.””
His silence confirmed it.
I stepped back.
“No.””
“Emily—”
“No. You knew.””
“I knew Claire was suspicious. That’s all.””
“Suspicious of what?””
“I don’t know.””
“Then why didn’t you tell me?””
He looked at me.
And the answer hurt more than I expected.
“Because Mom told me Claire was trying to destroy our family.””
I stared at my husband.
My husband.
The man who had promised to stand beside me.
The man who had watched his mother criticize me for years.
“You believed her.””
“I didn’t know what to believe.””
“You chose silence.””
He didn’t argue.
Because he knew.
I walked toward the living room.
On the shelf was a framed picture of Claire.
She was smiling in the photo, holding a coffee cup and wearing the ridiculous yellow sweater she loved.
I touched the frame.
“She knew.””
Jackson stood behind me.
“What?””
“She knew something.””
“Emily.””
“No, think about it.””
I turned around.
“Your mother hates Claire. She talks about her like she was dangerous. Then the same day Claire dies, your mother starts telling you things about her?””
“I know it looks bad.””
“It doesn’t just look bad.””
I picked up the paper.
“This was hidden in her house.””
Jackson stared at it.
“Where did you find it?””
“On a note she wrote for me.””
His expression changed.
“What do you mean?””
“I mean she wanted me to see it.””
A silence filled the room.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
But something made me answer.
“Hello?””
At first, there was only breathing.
Then a woman spoke.
A woman’s voice I hadn’t heard in four years.
My entire body froze.
“Emily?””
I couldn’t speak.
Because I knew that voice.
I knew it impossible.
“Who is this?””
A pause.
Then:
“I don’t have much time.””
My hand started shaking.
“Who is this?””
The woman took a breath.
“It’s Claire.””
The phone nearly slipped from my fingers.
Jackson looked at me.
“What’s wrong?””
I couldn’t answer.
Because my sister was dead.
She had been dead for four years.
But the voice on the phone was hers.
“Emily,” the woman whispered.
“You need to listen carefully.””
My heart pounded.
“What is happening?””
A pause.
Then Claire said something that made every hair on my body stand up.
“Mia was never supposed to be with Lorraine.””
I looked toward the hallway.
Toward my daughter’s room.
Toward the child who had been caught in the middle of a secret that started before she was even born.
“What are you talking about?””
The voice became quieter.
“Your daughter wasn’t the only thing Lorraine was trying to take from you.””
The call crackled.
“Claire?””
“Emily, whatever you do…”
The line cut for a second.
Then her voice returned.
“Do not let Jackson bring Mia back to his mother.””
I looked at my husband.
At the man standing only a few feet away.
“Why?””
The silence on the other end lasted too long.
Then Claire whispered:
May you like
“Because Jackson knows why I died.””
And the call ended.
