My aunt stopped struggling the moment I asked what she had done to my sister.
For several seconds, Susan simply stared at me.
The private dining room had become completely silent. The music was still playing softly from the restaurant speakers, and the candles on my father’s birthday cake continued burning as if nothing extraordinary had happened.
My husband, Andrew, stood between Susan and the exit.
My son, Lucas, had moved closer to my father.
Natalie remained beside the table, still holding the mysterious letter.
“Move away from the door,” Susan told Andrew.
“Not until you answer Rebecca,” he said.
“You have no right to keep me here.”
“You’re free to leave,” I said. “But if you do, I’m calling the police and telling them everything Dad just said.”
Susan’s eyes moved toward my father.
Dad was gripping the back of a chair with both hands. Only minutes earlier, he hadn’t recognized me. Now his face carried an expression of terrible certainty.
“Susan knows where Emily went,” he said.
My aunt shook her head.
“There was no Emily.”
Dad’s voice rose.
“There were two cribs!”
“George, you’re confused.”
“I remember Helen screaming.”
The anger vanished from Susan’s face.
In its place appeared fear.
Dad pointed at her.
“You told us the second baby died. But you were lying.”
I looked at Natalie.
“Let me see the note again.”
She handed it to me.
My mother’s handwriting covered the envelope, but the note inside had been typed.
Natalie is not your twin. Ask Susan why her name appears on Emily’s death certificate. Continue Reading ⬇️