Chapter 1 - YOU’RE NOT REALLY FAMILY
The Mercer house looked like the kind of place Christmas cards were made for: warm gold lights around every window, a twelve-foot tree in the living room, polished silver on the dining table, and so many wrapped gifts beneath the branches that six-year-old Emily had stopped trying to count them.
She was not opening any of them.
She stood on a wooden chair in the kitchen with both hands in hot, soapy water while two cousins in matching velvet dresses tore paper from another stack of presents only twenty feet away.
Every few minutes, Emily glanced through the open doorway.
She could hear laughter.
She could hear her grandfather praising the girls.
She could hear the rip of wrapping paper and the bright electronic chirp of a brand-new toy.
Her own red sweater was wet to the elbows.
The skin on her hands had turned pink from nearly an hour in the sink.
Margaret Mercer stood behind her wearing pearls.
“Grandma?” Emily whispered.
“What now?”
“Can I open my present when I’m done?”
Margaret looked toward the living room.
Then back at the child.
“Finish the dishes.”
Emily nodded.
“Yes, Grandma.”
She lifted another plate.
Her fingers trembled.
The plate slipped half an inch.
Margaret crossed the kitchen instantly.
“Are you doing that on purpose?”
“No!”
Margaret snatched the dishcloth from Emily’s hand and struck the child’s open palm.
The sound cracked through the kitchen.
Emily cried out and jerked backward.
Several plates rattled.
“I’m sorry! I’m trying!”
Margaret leaned closer.
“YOU’RE NOT REALLY FAMILY.”
Emily stopped crying for a second.
The words were too large.
Too strange.
She looked toward the room where her cousins sat beneath the tree.
Then down at the empty floor beside her chair.
“But Daddy said I was…”
Margaret’s face hardened.
“Your father feels sorry for you. That doesn’t make you one of us.”
A man’s voice came from the kitchen doorway.
“What did you just say to my daughter?”
Margaret spun.
Daniel Mercer stood there.
He had come downstairs from the home office after hearing Emily cry.
Now his eyes moved from the wet sweater to the mountain of dishes, then to Emily’s reddened hand.
“Did you hit her?”
Margaret lifted her chin.
“She was being difficult.”
Emily reached toward him.
“Daddy.”
Margaret moved as though to catch the child’s arm.
Daniel stepped forward, caught his mother’s wrist, and pulled her hand away from Emily.
Then, in anger, he shoved Margaret backward into the kitchen table.
Silverware rattled.
A serving spoon hit the floor.
Margaret gasped.
“Daniel! How dare you touch your own mother?”
Daniel knew immediately the shove had gone beyond what was needed after he separated them.
Later, he would admit that.
In that moment, he turned away and lifted Emily from the chair.
She buried her face in his sweater.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t finish.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Those words hurt more than anything Margaret had said.
“You don’t have to apologize.”
He kissed Emily’s hair.
Then he looked at Margaret.
“She is my daughter. Touch her again, and we’re done.”
Margaret stared at him.
“You would choose her over your own mother?”
Daniel tightened his arms around Emily.
“She is my child.”
His father, Robert Mercer, appeared in the hall.
“What happened?”
Margaret spoke first.
“Your son assaulted me because the girl was being disrespectful.”
Daniel almost laughed.
Instead he said:
“You made a six-year-old wash dishes while the other children opened presents.”
“She needed discipline.”
“You hit her.”
“She almost dropped a plate.”
Emily whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
Daniel pulled her closer.
“No more apologizing.”
He wanted to leave.
Then he noticed the envelope.
It sat on Robert’s desk in the adjoining study.
Cream-colored.
Thick.
Already opened.
Daniel recognized the law firm immediately.
Hawthorne & Cole Family Law.
The firm that handled Emily’s adoption.
Two weeks earlier, attorney Rebecca Cole had called him.
“We found supplemental archive records tied to Emily’s pre-placement file. Nothing invalidates the adoption, but you should have copies.”
Daniel had asked:
“What kind of records?”
“Older agency correspondence. I’d rather you read it directly.”
The envelope was supposed to be sent to him.
Now it was in his parents’ study.
Opened.
Daniel lowered Emily gently to the floor.
“Mom.”
Margaret followed his eyes.
Her face changed.
“Daniel, leave that alone.”
“Why do you have my daughter’s adoption papers?”
“It’s nothing.”
“You opened my mail.”
“Not tonight.”
That frightened him more than denial.
Robert stopped moving.
Daniel saw it.
“You knew?”
Robert’s face drained.
“Where did you get that?”
“From your desk.”
Robert looked at Margaret.
Not Daniel.
Daniel pulled the documents from the envelope.
The first pages looked familiar:
final decree,
placement history,
agency summary,
medical information.
Then a second document slipped free.
An intake memorandum dated before Daniel had ever applied to adopt.
Subject:
INFANT FEMALE — ANNA REED
POTENTIAL KINSHIP CONTACT: MERCER FAMILY
Daniel stared.
He read.
“Birth mother reports possible biological father connected to Mercer Aviation through seasonal employment. Maternal client requests no direct contact with paternal family at this stage due coercion concerns.”
His mouth went dry.
Another note appeared below.
“Robert and Margaret Mercer contacted by private counsel regarding possible paternity inquiry. Family declined testing absent court order.”
Daniel looked at his parents.
“What is this?”
Margaret answered too quickly.
“Nothing.”
Robert closed his eyes.
Daniel turned to him.
“Dad.”
Robert whispered:
“We didn’t know it was the same child.”
“Same child as what?”
Silence.
Daniel read the next page.
Three months after Emily’s placement with him, Hopewell Family Services had written:
“Possible kinship overlap identified following disclosure of adoptive parent’s family information.”
Daniel stopped breathing.
His parents had known something after Emily came home.
Maybe not before.
But afterward.
And they never told him.
Emily tugged his sweater.
“Daddy?”
He crouched.
“What is it?”
She looked at the envelope.
Then at Margaret.
“Grandma already read it.”
Daniel’s throat tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“Grandma said I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”
Margaret stepped forward.
“Emily—”
Daniel stood between them.
“No.”
He looked down again.
“What did Grandma tell you not to tell?”
Emily’s eyes filled.
“She said the letter said I came from a bad family.”
Daniel felt rage rise.
Margaret went pale.
Emily continued:
“She said if you knew, maybe you’d send me back.”
Daniel dropped to one knee.
“No.”
Emily began crying.
He held her face gently.
“There is nowhere to send you back to. You are my daughter. Nothing in that envelope changes that.”
“But Grandma said—”
“Grandma was wrong.”
Margaret snapped:
“You don’t even know what’s in there.”
Daniel stood.
“That is exactly the problem.”
His sister Laura appeared at the doorway, alarmed by the voices.
Daniel handed Emily to her.
“Stay with her for five minutes. Don’t let Mom near her.”
Laura stared.
“What happened?”
“Later.”
Once Emily was out of the room, Daniel held up the intake memo.
“My parents were contacted about a baby connected to this family before I ever adopted Emily, and after I brought her home you were told there might be overlap. Start talking.”
Robert sat slowly.
Margaret’s hand gripped the counter.
Daniel turned another page.
Then saw the name.
Samuel Mercer.
His older brother.
Dead for eight years.
The possible biological father listed in the agency note.
Daniel stared at his parents.
Margaret whispered:
“You don’t understand.”
“Then make me.”
Robert looked at the floor.
Margaret looked toward the living room where Emily sat with Laura while two other children played with expensive Christmas gifts.
Then she said the sentence that changed Daniel’s understanding of the adoption forever.
“We thought Anna wanted money.”
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“Who is Anna?”
May you like
Margaret answered:
“Emily’s mother.”
