Chapter 2 - The Woman Who Knew My Name
I stared at Teresa.
“Thomas found you?”
“Yes.”
“My husband knew who you were?”
“He knew before I knew who he was.”
I pushed back from the table.
Nothing made sense.
Thomas knew I was adopted, of course. It had never been a secret between us.
But I had never searched seriously for my biological parents.
My adoptive parents, David and Helen Mercer, had given me a wonderful childhood. They never hid the truth, but they also never pushed me to dig into a past I wasn't sure I wanted.
My biological mother had been seventeen when she gave birth.
That was nearly everything I knew.
“How did Thomas find you?”
Teresa folded her hands tightly.
“He hired someone.”
“Why?”
“At first, he told me you were looking for me.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I wasn't.”
“I know that now.”
Teresa explained that six months earlier, a private investigator had contacted her in New Mexico.
The investigator said Samantha Bennett wanted information about her birth family.
Teresa had spent three decades wondering whether the baby she surrendered had grown up safe.
She agreed to speak with him.
Two weeks later, Thomas contacted her directly.
“He told me you were nervous about meeting me,” Teresa said. “He said you wanted him to learn about me first.”
I couldn't believe the sophistication of the lie.
“What did he ask?”
“Everything.”
My childhood name.
Adoption records.
Family history.
Whether Teresa had inherited property.
Whether she had money.
Whether anyone in her family had ever created a trust for me.
That last question made me sit straighter.
“A trust?”
Teresa nodded.
“My father owned a small construction company. He died eight years ago.”
“And?”
“He never forgave himself for what happened when you were born.”
Teresa's voice became quieter.
Her parents had been deeply conservative, she explained. When their seventeen-year-old daughter became pregnant, panic and shame controlled every decision.
Teresa hadn't wanted to surrender me.
Her parents insisted she had no way to support a child.
Her boyfriend disappeared before I was born.
Teresa was terrified, broke, and still legally a child.
“I signed because everyone around me told me it was the only way you could have a good life.”
She looked at the old photograph.
“I regretted it before the ink dried.”
I didn't know what to feel.
Anger had been easier when Teresa was an abstract person.
A woman who abandoned me.
It became more complicated when she was sitting three feet away, crying quietly over a photograph she had kept for thirty-four years.
“What does this have to do with Thomas?”
“My father left instructions in his estate.”
She reached into her bag again.
“He wanted money set aside for you if I ever found you.”
“How much?”
“Enough that Thomas became interested.”
A chill ran through me.
“How much, Teresa?”
“Approximately eight hundred thousand dollars.”
I stared at her.
Thomas hadn't simply discovered my biological mother.
He had discovered money.
Teresa continued.
“The inheritance couldn't be released automatically. There were legal requirements. Proof of identity. Documentation. Attorneys.”
“And Thomas wanted you to help him get it?”
“He told me you were having financial problems.”
I almost laughed.
Of course he had.
“He said you were embarrassed. That you didn't want your adoptive parents to know.”
“My adoptive parents are dead.”
“I know.”
“He knew that too.”
Teresa looked ashamed.
“For a while, I believed him.”
I wanted to hate her for that.
But Thomas had fooled me for twelve years.
How could I blame a woman who had known him for a few months?
“What changed?”
“He became impatient.”
Teresa said Thomas began asking her to sign documents.
He claimed they would simplify the inheritance process.
She refused until she could have her own attorney review them.
Thomas became angry.
Then Courtney appeared.
Teresa had seen them together outside a restaurant.
She followed them.
“That’s how you got the photographs?”
“Yes.”
“How did you learn about the apartment?”
“Courtney is careless.”
Teresa had followed Courtney to a real-estate office.
Then she found the listing online.
The photographs showed my belongings.
The ownership records showed my name.
Teresa knew enough by then to understand what Thomas was doing.
“So you started following me too.”
“Yes.”
“That is incredibly disturbing.”
“I know.”
“You could have called me.”
“I tried.”
I frowned.
“Thomas answered.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Teresa had called our home number.
Thomas picked up.
When she asked for me, he recognized her voice.
“He told me if I contacted you directly, I would destroy your family.”
“And you believed him?”
“No.”
“Then why wait?”
“Because I didn't know how much danger you were in financially. I needed proof before I walked into your life and accused your husband of crimes.”
That answer, at least, made sense.
Teresa pushed a folder toward me.
Inside were dates.
Photographs.
Copies of public filings.
Business names.
Notes.
Thomas had hidden debt through multiple companies.
Some of the loans were legitimate.
Others looked questionable.
I didn't understand enough to know which was which.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Bennett Strategic Holdings LLC.
“I've never heard of this company.”
“He created it eighteen months ago.”
“Without telling me?”
“Yes.”
My phone vibrated.
Thomas.
Teresa and I looked at each other.
I answered.
“Hey.”
“Made it?”
His voice sounded warm.
Normal.
That was somehow worse.
“Almost,” I said.
“Rachel picking you up?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Chloe says hi.”
My heart tightened.
“Can I talk to her?”
Silence.
Only for a second.
But I heard it.
“She’s in the shower.”
At eleven thirty in the morning?
I looked at Teresa.
She immediately understood.
“Okay,” I said. “Tell her I love her.”
“Will do.”
Thomas lowered his voice.
“And Samantha?”
“Yes?”
“Don't worry about anything here. Just enjoy yourself.”
I closed my eyes.
“I will.”
After we disconnected, I stood.
“I want my daughter.”
Teresa followed me outside.
We took a cab toward my house.
Halfway there, I called Chloe's school.
“Mrs. Bennett?” the receptionist said. “Chloe is here.”
Relief hit me so hard I nearly cried.
Thomas had lied because he didn't want me speaking to her and accidentally discovering she was at school.
“Please don't tell anyone I called.”
The receptionist hesitated.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. I just need to surprise her later.”
It wasn't a good lie, but it worked.
When we reached my neighborhood, I told the driver to stop one block away.
My home looked exactly as it had that morning.
Same windows.
Same flowerpots.
Same maple tree.
But now it looked like a crime scene.
A place where someone had quietly planned my removal.
Then a black SUV pulled into the driveway.
Thomas stepped out.
Courtney emerged from the passenger side.
She was younger than me, maybe twenty-eight.
Thomas kissed her before they walked inside my home.
My home.
Teresa touched my wrist.
“Don't go over there.”
“I want to.”
“I know.”
“I want to walk inside and watch him explain why she's standing in my kitchen.”
“And then he'll know the sale is compromised.”
I hated that she was right.
We waited.
Twenty minutes later, Thomas and Courtney came outside carrying folders.
Courtney laughed.
Thomas looked happier than I had seen him in months.
Then I noticed something in his hand.
A red folder.
I recognized it immediately.
It came from the small fireproof safe in our bedroom closet.
The safe where I kept Chloe's birth certificate, my passport, our property documents, and several papers connected to my late aunt's estate.
I felt my breath catch.
“He went into my safe.”
Teresa stared at the folder.
“What's in it?”
“Everything he'd need to know about my Dayton property.”
Thomas placed the folder in Courtney's SUV.
Then they drove away.
I was about to follow when my phone rang again.
This time it was Rachel.
“Samantha?”
“Hey.”
“Where are you?”
My entire body stiffened.
“Why?”
“Thomas just called me.”
Teresa looked sharply at me.
“What did he want?”
Rachel sounded confused.
“He asked whether you arrived.”
The sidewalk seemed to tilt.
Thomas was checking my story.
“What did you tell him?”
“I said I hadn't seen you.”
My heart stopped.
Rachel continued.
“Sam, what's going on?”
Across the street, my front door was still swinging slightly from where Thomas had failed to pull it completely shut.
I looked at Teresa.
Thomas now knew I wasn't in Cincinnati.
And if he checked the bus manifest, called the terminal, or simply thought carefully about my text, he would realize something had gone wrong.
Teresa whispered, “We need to move.”
But before either of us could, another message appeared on my phone.
From Thomas.
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