Chapter 3 - THE CHILD THEY ERASEDI read the message six times.
Ask Barbara what happened to the baby born in 2018.
My hands were shaking so badly that Rebecca took the phone from me.
"Emily?"
I couldn't speak.
2018.
That was the year Nathan convinced me to stop fertility treatments.
The year he said we needed to accept that some people simply weren't meant to become parents.
The year I stopped decorating the spare bedroom.
For five years before that, I had wanted a child more than anything.
I had endured appointments, medications, uncomfortable procedures, and the quiet devastation of watching pregnancy tests turn negative.
When I finally became pregnant, I bought a pair of tiny yellow socks.
I kept them in my bedside drawer.
Then, at twelve weeks, I lost the baby.
Nathan was away at a business conference.
Arthur came to the hospital instead.
Afterward, Nathan told me we should try again.
But the second pregnancy never happened.
By 2018, he insisted we needed to move on.
"You have to stop letting this obsession destroy our marriage," he told me.
I believed him.
Now I wondered what else had been happening while I blamed myself.
Rebecca studied the photograph.
"Do you recognize the woman?"
"No."
She enlarged the image.
The woman appeared to be in her early thirties.
Dark hair.
A green coat.
One hand resting against Nathan's chest.
He was smiling at her.
It wasn't the polite smile he used for business photographs.
It was the same intimate smile he used when he first met me.
I felt sick.
"Can we trace the number?"
"We can preserve the messages and ask our investigator to examine them."
"Do it."
Rebecca made a call.
I sat across from her, staring at the photograph.
And remembered something I hadn't thought about in years.
In December 2018, Nathan suddenly began traveling to Milwaukee every other weekend.
He said Whitmore Development was negotiating a hospital construction project.
Sometimes he stayed overnight.
Sometimes he came home with children's stickers stuck to his laptop bag.
Once, I jokingly asked whether he had been visiting a kindergarten.
He became furious.
"Why do you interrogate me about everything?"
I apologized.
I always apologized.
That afternoon, I drove to Arthur's old house in Winnetka.
It was a quiet brick property surrounded by oak trees.
Arthur had owned it for thirty-four years.
After he died, Barbara moved into a larger estate in Lake Forest and claimed the Winnetka property was too painful to visit.
I had never believed her.
Arthur's longtime housekeeper, Mrs. Eleanor Hayes, still lived in the small guest cottage behind the property.
She opened the door before I reached the steps.
"Emily."
She pulled me into a hug.
I nearly cried.
Eleanor was seventy-two, silver-haired, and sharp-eyed. She had worked for Arthur long before Nathan was born.
"I saw the news," she said quietly.
I winced.
"Everyone did."
"Barbara's been begging for that slap since 1999."
I laughed despite myself.
Then Eleanor noticed my expression.
"What happened?"
I showed her the photograph.
Her smile vanished.
She sat down slowly.
"Oh, Lord."
"Eleanor?"
She pressed her lips together.
"Where did you get this?"
"Someone sent it to me."
She stared at the woman's face.
"Her name is Rachel."
My heart began pounding.
"Rachel what?"
"Rachel Mercer."
"Who is she?"
Eleanor looked toward the window.
Then she said something I never expected.
"She was a nurse who cared for Arthur during his first hospitalization."
I felt the room tilt.
"Arthur knew her?"
"Yes."
"And Nathan?"
Eleanor closed her eyes.
"Oh, Emily."
I sat across from her.
"Please. Whatever it is, just tell me."
She folded her hands.
"Your husband and Rachel became involved while Arthur was receiving treatment. I discovered it accidentally. One evening, Rachel came to the house when Arthur was resting. Nathan met her near the garage."
I swallowed.
"Did Arthur know?"
"Eventually."
"And Barbara?"
Eleanor gave a bitter laugh.
"Barbara knew before anyone."
I felt cold.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Arthur made me promise to let him handle it. He said he needed proof before confronting Nathan."
"What happened?"
"Rachel became pregnant."
The words seemed to echo through the small cottage.
"She had a baby?"
Eleanor nodded.
"A little girl."
I couldn't breathe.
"Where is she?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know?"
"Because everything changed after the baby was born."
Eleanor stood and walked toward an old wooden cabinet.
She removed a small photograph album.
Inside was a picture of Arthur sitting in a hospital chair.
A baby slept in his arms.
He looked happier than I remembered seeing him during his final illness.
"Her name was Lily," Eleanor whispered.
I touched the photograph.
The baby had dark hair.
Nathan's nose.
And a tiny pink blanket.
"Arthur visited her?"
"Every chance he could."
"Did Nathan?"
Eleanor hesitated.
"At first."
"And then?"
"Rachel began asking him to acknowledge the child publicly. Nathan refused. He said his marriage and reputation would be ruined."
I looked at the photograph again.
My husband had spent years telling me that my inability to have children was destroying our marriage.
Meanwhile, he had fathered a daughter with another woman.
A daughter he hid.
A daughter his father loved.
"Barbara handled the money," Eleanor continued. "She arranged payments to Rachel through one of the family companies."
Harrington Family Management.
My stomach dropped.
"Was Rachel living in Milwaukee?"
"Yes."
"Why did the payments stop?"
Eleanor's expression changed.
"How do you know they stopped?"
"I don't. But something happened, didn't it?"
She looked down.
"Arthur argued with Barbara about the arrangement. He wanted Rachel and the child protected. Barbara said the woman was blackmailing them."
"And Arthur?"
"He didn't believe it."
"What happened to Rachel?"
"I heard she left Milwaukee in late 2019. Barbara told Arthur she'd taken a settlement and moved overseas."
"Did he believe her?"
"No."
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
"He was still trying to find Lily when his health deteriorated."
I looked at the photograph.
The little girl's hand was wrapped around Arthur's finger.
He had known.
He had loved her.
And he had died without knowing where she was.
"Why wasn't this in his letter?"
"Perhaps he was trying to protect the child. He was never certain what happened."
I took a photograph of the album page.
Then I called Rebecca.
"I need you to find Rachel Mercer."
"Emily, what's going on?"
"Nathan has a daughter."
There was silence.
"A daughter?"
"Born in 2018."
Rebecca exhaled.
"All right. I'll contact the investigator."
Before I ended the call, Eleanor touched my arm.
"Emily, there's something else."
I turned.
She looked frightened.
"Three weeks before Arthur died, Barbara came here in the middle of the night."
"What for?"
"His study."
"What did she take?"
"A gray metal box."
I frowned.
"What was inside?"
"Letters. Medical records. Financial documents. Things Arthur had collected."
"About Nathan?"
"About the whole family."
Eleanor leaned closer.
"And when Barbara left, I heard her speaking to someone on the phone."
"What did she say?"
Eleanor's voice dropped to a whisper.
"If Emily ever finds out about the first child, we'll lose everything."
My blood ran cold.
I looked down at Lily's photograph.
Somewhere, a little girl was growing up with questions nobody had answered.
And I knew one thing with absolute certainty.
I was going to find her.
Not because Nathan deserved to be exposed.
But because a child deserved better than being treated like a secret.
That evening, Vanessa called me.
I nearly ignored the unfamiliar number.
Then I heard her voice.
"Emily? Please don't hang up."
I said nothing.
She was crying.
"Something's wrong."
"What?"
"Nathan just had someone remove the nursery furniture."
I sat upright.
"Why?"
"He said we might not be staying in the house."
"That's true."
"No, Emily. That's not what scares me."
I heard a door closing behind her.
Then Vanessa whispered:
"Barbara came over an hour ago. They were arguing in Nathan's office."
"About the house?"
"About a little girl."
I stopped breathing.
Vanessa's voice began trembling.
"And Emily?"
May you like
"Yes?"
"Barbara said that if anyone found Rachel Mercer, Nathan would go to prison."
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