Chapter Eleven #2
Something thumped out in the hall.
“She's not my mom,” Samantha said, like repeating it made it more real. “The woman who—oh my god, after everything she put me through—Daddy if she's not even my real mother—”
“Okay,” I heard myself say. My voice sounded to my own ears like it was coming from the bottom of a deep, dark well. “Babygirl, I'm coming, alright? Marcie and I are going to be home in twenty minutes, we'll make some calls, we'll figure this out together. Maybe there was some kind of a mix-up.”
Even as I said it, I didn't think it was true.
“Daddy, who am I? If I'm not... my whole life I... I don't even know who I really am…!”
“Babygirl, go get Kiki and tell her exactly what you told me,” I said firmly. “She'll keep you calm until we get there. And listen to me. I said listen to me!”
Caroline moved towards the door, her head cocked to the side. “There's someone here,” she muttered.
“You just told me that you'll never not be my babygirl,” I said, meaning it to the bottom of my heart. “That's who you are, and that's who you've always been. Samantha Avery. My babygirl. You're an Avery and nothing in anybody's blood changes one single—”
I never finished the sentence.
Because just as Caroline reached the door, it opened.
And Mona stepped into the office, with Tasha standing right behind her.
Fool that I am, for a moment I felt relief. Oh good, Mona's here, Mona will know what to do about Samantha. Then I realized that, while Tasha wasn't in her uniform, my chief of security was armed—and she was holding her old service pistol like she was ready to use it if necessary.
What the fuck!?
“Mona?” A horrible possibility occurred to me. “What are you doing?”
And that's when it clicked. Because Tasha looked grim and Mona looked absolutely furious, angry like I'd never seen her before, but neither woman was looking at me. They didn't even seem to notice Marcie holding the Rolodex.
They were looking at Caroline.
“—Daddy?” Samantha's voice came tinny from the speaker. “Are you there?”
“I'm right here, babygirl,” I said. “Something's going on at the office—can you get Kiki, babygirl? You need her, and I think I'm about to need her in a second.”
Mona shut the office door behind her. Then, without hesitating, she slammed the deadbolt—a security measure we'd installed throughout the building on Tasha's recommendation—closed. The sound it made caused Marcie to jump.
Caroline didn't jump. She'd gone very quiet and very still. Her bag hung from her shoulder, her eyes flickered between Mona and Tasha, and then she looked at the locked door and her shoulders slumped the slightest fraction.
She didn't look scared. She looked like someone who'd lived in fear of a moment for a very, very long time, and now that it was here she was almost relieved the waiting was over.
“Mona?” I asked. “What the hell is this?”
“You told me to do a little extra digging,” she said, not looking at me. She kept her gaze on Caroline, her face more sharklike than I could remember it being in a very, very long time. “So I did. Because you asked me to.”
Caroline sighed. Her eyes had gone watery, but there was a smile on her face.
“Your background check was spotless,” Mona said, looking at Caroline the way I imagined a medieval knight looked at his opponent after a well-fought duel.
“Everything around it was clean, too. Not even abnormally clean.
Whoever set that up for you—I'm assuming it was Victoria Ruocchio—did one hell of a job—”
“I'm not working for Victoria,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “I would never. I haven't even met Victoria—”
“I kept digging. And that's when I found the trapdoor.” Mona looked like she'd smelled blood in the water. “Absolutely none of it's real.”
“Jack?” Yukiko had just taken the phone from Samantha. “Baby, I'm here. Samantha, what the hell is wrong? Jack, are you okay? Is Marcie alright?”
“We're safe,” I managed. “But I don't think we're okay.”
“Mona,” Marcie said, tears brimming in her eyes. “What are you saying?”
Mona took a step closer. Just behind her, Tasha drew her pistol from her holster and held it at her side.
“A week ago, I hired Caroline Aitchison as an employee of the Avery Company,” she said, her voice low and menacing. “And just this morning, I learned that Miss Caroline Aitchison does not exist.”
Marcie let out a shocked cry.
“You're good,” Caroline said, nodding appreciatively. “I'm glad this family has someone so smart and ruthless looking out for them.”
Mona wasn't listening. “She popped into existence eighteen months ago,” she said, like a judge pronouncing a sentence.
“Somebody made her, whole cloth, and they did it well enough that they fooled me for an entire week, which is not a sentence I enjoy saying out loud.” Her voice dropped, becoming almost gentle, which was just so much worse than the snarl.
“I'm going to ask you this one time and one time only, and yes there is a woman with a gun standing behind me. So I would very much like the truth. You will not like what I will do if you lie to me.”
The entire room seemed to brace itself.
“Who the hell are you?” Mona demanded. “Really?”
END OF BOOK SEVENTEEN