A terrible silence followed.
Then he whispered:
“She was the woman who sold you to him.”
I looked at my mother.
Her tears had stopped.
And for the first time in my life, the expression on her face frightened me.
She slowly closed the cabinet.
Then she whispered:
“I was hoping Eleanor would die before she remembered.”
At that exact moment, the front door opened.
A man's voice came from the hallway.
“Margaret?”
My mother's face changed.
She smiled.
“Richard,” she said softly. “You're finally home.”
I turned toward the doorway.
An elderly man stood there.
He had silver hair, sharp gray eyes, and a familiar smile.
The same smile I'd seen in Alex's photographs.
He looked directly at me.
Then he said:
“Hello, Emily. I've been waiting twenty-six years for you to come home.”
Behind him stood Daniel Price.
And in his hand was a folder labeled:
FINAL BENEFICIARY TRANSFER.
