Chapter 42: The Recorder

My hands shook as I taped the phone to the underside of my dining table. The battery icon was red—12%—but it had to be enough. I set the recorder to voice activation and covered the phone with a placemat, then set a vase of dead flowers on top.

"Just get her talking," I whispered to myself, smoothing my shirt. "Get her to say it."

The doorbell rang.

I opened it to find Edith standing on my welcome mat, holding a bottle of wine. She wore a cashmere coat and a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Sarah," she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "You look tired."

"I haven't been sleeping well," I said, closing the door. "Thinking about the past."

"The past is a heavy burden," Edith said, walking into the dining room. She set the wine on the table, right next to the vase. "That's why I prefer to focus on the future. On Leo."

She sat down. I sat opposite her, my knees knocking against the hidden phone.

"How is he?" she asked, pouring two glasses. "The doctors say his counts are stabilizing."

"They are," I lied. "But we still need a donor. A match."

Edith took a sip of wine. "We'll find one. The Trust has resources."

"The Trust," I said. "You mention it a lot. But you never talk about Grandfather. Or Clara."

Edith's eyes narrowed slightly. "Clara is ill, Sarah. You know that."

"Is she?" I asked. "Or is she just inconvenient?"

I leaned forward.

"I found the papers, Edith. The ones from Dr. Thorne."

It was a bluff. I hadn't found anything new since the birth certificate, but I needed to rattle her.

Edith set her glass down. "Dr. Thorne is a senile old man. Whatever he told you is a fabrication of a decaying mind."

"He didn't tell me," I said. "He wrote it down. In the file you tried to burn."

Edith went still.

"There was no file," she said softly.

"There was," I insisted. "And it says you paid him. Fifty thousand dollars. For 'services rendered'."

"Medical services," Edith said. "Consultations."

"For a baby," I said. "For me."

Edith sighed. She reached across the table and patted my hand. Her skin was cold.

"Sarah, you're overwrought. This obsession with your origins... it's unhealthy. You are my daughter. In every way that matters."

"But not in blood," I said.

"Blood is messy," Edith said. "Blood is complicated. I gave you something better. I gave you a legacy."

"You gave me a lie," I said. "And you gave me a disease. The clotting disorder. It didn't come from Clara. It came from the donor."

Edith pulled her hand back.

"There was no donor," she said sharply.

"Then where did it come from?" I pressed. "If you're not my mother, and Clara isn't my mother... who is?"

Edith stood up. She walked to the window, looking out at the street.

"You ask too many questions," she said. "Just like your father."

My heart stopped.

"My father?" I asked. "You knew him?"

Edith turned around. The facade was cracking. I could see the anger underneath, hot and bright.

"I knew him," she said. "He was a brilliant man. And a fool. He thought he could blackmail me."

"Thorne," I whispered.

"Thorne was a tool," Edith said. "A useful idiot. But he got greedy. He thought because he provided the... material... that he owned a piece of the result."

"Material?"

"The sperm, Sarah," Edith said. "He was the donor. For Clara. For Alice. For everyone."

She walked back to the table and leaned over me, her face inches from mine.

"He fathered you," she hissed. "And he fathered Leo. And he fathered Mark. He was the stud horse for the entire dynasty."

I stared at her. Thorne. My father. Leo's father. Mark's father.

We were all half-siblings.

"But why?" I asked. "Why him?"

"Because I owned him," Edith said. "He had a gambling problem. A drug problem. I paid his debts, and he gave me heirs. It was a business arrangement."

"And when he wanted more?"

"I handled it," Edith said. "Just like I handled Alice. Just like I handled Clara."

She smiled.

"And just like I'm handling you."

She reached into her purse.

I held my breath, waiting for a gun. A syringe.

But she pulled out a checkbook.

"How much?" she asked. "How much to make this go away?"

"You can't buy me," I said.

"Everyone has a price," Edith said, writing. "Thorne did. Mark did. Even Ben has a price, Sarah. You just haven't found it yet."

She ripped the check out and slid it across the table.

*Five million dollars.*

"Take it," she said. "Take Leo. Go to Europe. Live a good life. Just forget the name Sterling."

I looked at the check. Then I looked at the vase.

"No," I said.

Edith's eyes went cold.

"Then you leave me no choice," she said.

She turned and walked out the door.

I waited until I heard her car drive away. Then I lifted the vase and stopped the recording.

I played it back.

*He fathered you. And he fathered Leo. And he fathered Mark.*

*I handled it. Just like I handled Alice.*

I had her.

I had the confession.

But then, the recording continued.

*Thorne knew his place,* Edith's voice said from the tiny speaker. *Just like you should know yours.*

And then, a sound I hadn't heard in the moment.

A soft *click*.

The sound of a lock engaging.

Not the front door.

The back door.

Edith hadn't come alone.

I spun around.

Standing in the kitchen doorway, holding a tire iron, was Mark.

"She offered me ten million," he said.