Chapter 11 - The Daughter Simeon Never Knew
Clara laughed when she saw the photograph.
Not because anything was funny.
Because some secrets were so large they arrived looking ridiculous.
“Another child?”
Simeon stared at Victor’s handwriting.
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Dad, this family has taught me not to accept ‘I’m sure’ without paperwork.”
Miriam agreed.
Simeon sat down.
“I never had an affair.”
Clara’s face softened.
“I didn’t ask that.”
“I loved your mother.”
“I know.”
“Then what does he mean?”
Frank knew.
He called the next morning after Simeon sent him a photograph of the note.
There was a long silence.
“Her name is Rebecca.”
Simeon gripped the phone.
“Who is Rebecca?”
“Our sister.”
Simeon stood.
“What?”
Frank began speaking quickly.
Their father, Henry Bennett, had been married once before he met their mother.
The marriage lasted nine months.
A daughter was born.
Henry signed away parental rights after the divorce.
He never told Simeon or Margaret.
Frank discovered it while handling Henry’s estate.
“You knew for thirty years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Dad made me promise.”
“Dad was dead.”
“I know.”
Simeon nearly threw the phone.
Clara said, “Where is Rebecca?”
Frank gave them a name.
Rebecca Lane.
Sixty-seven.
Lives in Worcester.
Simeon drove there with Clara.
Rebecca opened the door before they knocked.
She had silver hair cut short and Simeon’s eyes.
“You took long enough.”
He stared.
“You knew?”
“Victor visited me six years ago.”
Clara stepped forward.
“Why?”
“He wanted my Bennett shares.”
“You had shares?”
“Grandfather left me eight percent in a trust Henry couldn’t touch.”
Simeon closed his eyes.
Of course.
Money again.
“What did Victor offer?”
“Two hundred thousand dollars.”
“For shares worth millions?”
Rebecca smiled.
“I said the same thing.”
“Did you sell?”
“No.”
“Then why hasn’t your name appeared on company records?”
“Because I vote through a proxy.”
“Who?”
“Victor.”
Simeon stared.
Rebecca’s smile disappeared.
“He told me you knew.”
“No.”
“He said you wanted nothing to do with me.”
Clara laughed bitterly.
“That’s his favorite sentence.”
Rebecca invited them in.
Her house was modest and full of plants.
On the mantel stood photographs of two adult sons and four grandchildren.
Simeon stared at an entire branch of family he had never known.
Rebecca poured coffee.
“Victor came every Christmas.”
Clara’s eyes widened.
“He maintained a relationship with you?”
“Yes.”
“He told me he was the only Bennett who cared.”
Simeon felt ill.
Victor had built loyalty from everybody’s isolation.
He told Clara Simeon hated her.
Told Simeon Clara wanted nothing to do with him.
Told Rebecca the family rejected her.
Told Frank silence protected peace.
Every lie created dependence on Victor.
Rebecca said, “Last month he asked me to sign the shares over permanently.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He seemed desperate.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That if he asked again, I’d call Simeon myself.”
“Then Clara came back.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca looked at Clara.
“I saw you on television.”
“How did you know I was family?”
“You have Margaret’s eyebrows.”
Clara smiled despite herself.
Rebecca agreed to revoke Victor’s proxy immediately.
That shifted control of Bennett Properties.
For the first time, Victor could not win any vote without Simeon, Clara, or Rebecca.
Miriam filed the paperwork before noon.
At 12:17, Victor called Simeon.
“You found her.”
“Yes.”
“You’re destroying everything.”
“No. I’m introducing myself to my sister.”
“She doesn’t care about you.”
“She made me coffee.”
Victor hung up.
Clara laughed.
“That was petty.”
“I’m learning.”
Rebecca joined them at the bakery that evening.
Noah studied her.
“What do I call you?”
Rebecca thought.
“Rebecca is fine.”
“Are you Grandpa’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“Did he lose you too?”
Simeon winced.
Rebecca smiled.
“His father did.”
Noah looked at Simeon.
“This family loses a lot of people.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe write names down.”
Clara laughed so hard she had to sit.
Dinner was loud.
Daniel told stories from before the children were born.
Rebecca showed Clara photographs of Henry as a young man.
Simeon listened.
For the first time, family history sounded less like a monument and more like people.
Then Ortiz arrived.
She did not sit.
“We found evidence linking Victor to the Mercy Lodge fire.”
“Enough to arrest?”
“Enough for questioning.”
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
His office was empty.
His apartment had been cleared.
His passport remained in the country, but Victor had access to private aircraft through business contacts.
Then Ortiz placed a second photograph on the table.
Security footage from the bakery alley.
Victor’s sedan.
Passenger visible.
Dana stared.
“That’s my mother.”
Linda Pike.
Arthur’s wife.
Dana’s mother had been living in assisted housing outside Boston.
She was now missing too.
Dana stood.
“Why would she go with Victor?”
Arthur provided the answer over the phone.
“Linda raised him.”
“What?”
After Margaret died, before Simeon took Victor full-time, Linda Pike cared for him for almost a year.
She hated Margaret.
But she loved the boy.
Dana sat down slowly.
“My mother raised my father’s child with another woman?”
Arthur cried.
“Yes.”
“And never told me?”
“No.”
Dana laughed bitterly.
“Apparently secrecy is contagious.”
Simeon asked, “Would Linda help Victor?”
Arthur did not answer.
That frightened everyone more than yes.
An hour later, Dana received a voicemail.
Her mother’s voice.
“Dana, sweetheart, Victor is not a monster. He is hurt. Simeon is trying to take everything from him. Please don’t believe what they say.”
Dana replayed it.
Then deleted it.
Simeon looked at her.
“You don’t want to save it?”
“Police have a copy.”
“I mean personally.”
Dana shook her head.
“My mother spent forty years asking me to forgive things nobody admitted doing.”
She looked at Noah.
“I think I’m done with that.”
Noah nodded as if she had passed a test.
Then Daniel’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Victor.
Daniel answered.
“You wanted me dead.”
“No,” Victor said. “Dead men get investigated. I wanted you discredited.”
“You locked me away for three years.”
“You should have taken the money.”
“Where are you?”
“With someone who understands loyalty.”
Dana leaned toward the speaker.
“Victor, where is my mother?”
A pause.
“Dana?”
“Yes.”
Victor laughed softly.
“You finally picked a side.”
“No. I stopped letting you pick mine.”
His voice hardened.
“Tell Simeon he has until midnight to sign over the Hawthorne building.”
Simeon frowned.
“The bakery?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because it was my mother’s.”
“No. My father owned it.”
“Check again.”
The line ended.
Miriam pulled the original deed.
Henry Bennett had purchased the property in 1968.
But attached to the deed was a handwritten partnership agreement.
Half the purchase money came from Margaret Bennett’s mother.
The building had been intended to pass equally to Margaret and Simeon.
Margaret’s share vanished from later records.
Victor was not asking for a random building.
May you like
He was asking for the one thing he believed had been stolen from his mother.
And the place where Noah had walked in from the rain.
