Chapter 12
Silence.
“And because,” she continued, “your father could never discover they existed.”
Declan stared at her.
“My father was dead.”
“No.”
I stopped breathing.
Declan actually laughed.
A stunned, disbelieving sound.
“What did you say?”
“Your father was not dead.”
“Dad died when I was twenty-seven.”
“No.”
Declan stepped backward.
“Mom.”
“Charles Hawthorne’s death was staged.”
The room tilted.
Even I knew the story.
Charles Hawthorne had supposedly died in a private aircraft crash over the Gulf twelve years earlier.
Wreckage recovered.
No body.
Declared dead.
The tragedy had transformed Declan overnight from privileged heir to head of Hawthorne Holdings.
Eleanor looked toward the window.
“Your father was facing federal investigations.
Fraud.
Bribery.
Environmental contamination.
Payments to public officials.
He disappeared before prosecutors could arrest him.”
Declan’s face was white.
“You’re lying.”
“I helped him.”
“Oh my God.”
“He remained involved from abroad for years.”
Declan grabbed the back of a chair.
“And you told me he was dead.”
“It protected you.”
“You put me in charge of his company!”
“I needed someone legitimate.”
The cruelty of that sentence was extraordinary.
Declan stared at his mother as if he had never seen her before.
Then my mind caught up.
“What did this have to do with my pregnancy?”
Eleanor looked at me.
“Your work.”
“My work?”
“Before the divorce, you started asking questions about the Bellweather site.”
I remembered.
A Hawthorne industrial redevelopment outside Savannah.
Groundwater contamination.
Missing disposal records.
Conflicting soil reports.
I had argued with Declan about it repeatedly.
Eleanor continued.
“Charles learned you were investigating old company files.”
My skin turned cold.
“He was watching me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you were close to discovering that Hawthorne Development had knowingly buried chemical waste beneath residential land.”
Declan whispered:
“No.”
Eleanor nodded.
“Charles believed you might report it.”
“I would have.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“He ordered me to keep you away from Declan.”
I stared at her.
“And the babies?”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
“He believed children would make the connection permanent.”
Declan looked sick.
“What did he ask you to do?”
She didn’t answer.
“Mom.”
Nothing.
His voice dropped.
“What did he ask you to do?”
She finally looked at him.
“He told me to make sure Cassidy lost the pregnancy.”
The room disappeared.
For several seconds, I heard only my own heartbeat.
Declan’s face became terrifyingly still.
“What?”
“I refused.”
“You want credit for that?”
“No.”
“You erased them from my life because that was your compromise?”