I did not confront Margaret in the hospital.
Not immediately.
She was sitting with Anna in the cafeteria when Klein called.
I watched them through the glass doors.
Aunt and niece.
Two women separated for years by the decisions of older relatives.
Margaret was listening while Anna spoke.
For a moment she looked harmless.
That no longer meant anything.
I called Klein back.
“Is the signature genuine?”
“We’re verifying.”
“Do you believe it is?”
“Yes.”
“When did she sign?”
“2003.”
One year before Thomas died.
“So she took control while he was alive.”
“Co-control initially.”
“And after his death?”
“Sole administrative authority.”
My stomach tightened.
“She funded Michael’s scholarship.”
“Yes.”
“Rachel’s grant.”
“Yes.”
“She put them together.”
“The trust did.”
“Under her control.”
“Yes.”
I ended the call.
Then I walked into the cafeteria.
Anna saw my face first.
“What happened?”
I looked at Margaret.
“Hale, Benton & Cross.”
Her shoulders dropped.
That was enough.
Anna frowned.
“What is that?”
Margaret closed her eyes.
“Ellen.”
“You controlled Westbridge Educational Trust.”
Anna looked between us.
“What?”
“Since 2003,” I said.
Margaret whispered, “Yes.”
Anna stood.
“You told us Pierce arranged the scholarships.”
“He did.”
“With whose authority?”
“Mine.”
The cafeteria noise continued around us.
Ice dropping into a soda machine.
Silverware.
A child complaining about peas.
I pulled out a chair.
“Sit down.”
Margaret did.
Anna remained standing.
“Tell us everything.”
Margaret looked at her niece.
Then at me.
“Thomas contacted me in 2002.”
“Why?”
“He was sick.”
“What did he want?”
“Someone to preserve his work.”
“And you agreed.”
“Not initially.”
“But eventually.”
“Yes.”
Anna stared at her.
“You knew what he had done to Michael.”
“Yes.”
“You knew about my father’s sample.”
“Not all of it.”
“Enough.”
“Yes.”
“Why would you help him?”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“Because he told me the files could help the children.”
I almost laughed.
“You believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
“That is different.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if the research had medical value, then my silence in 1990 could become something other than cowardice.”
There it was.
Not science.
Not family loyalty.
Self-forgiveness.
“You needed Thomas’s crimes to produce something useful.”
“Yes.”
“So you preserved them.”
“Yes.”
“And Pierce joined you.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know he was following the children?”
“Yes.”
“Did you authorize it?”
“Some of it.”
Anna sat slowly.
“The scholarships?”
Margaret nodded.
“Pierce said putting people from related lines in similar educational environments might help us observe health patterns with fewer socioeconomic differences.”
I stared at her.
“You hear how that sounds?”
“I do now.”
“No. You heard it then.”
Margaret began crying.
“Yes.”
“Did you know Michael and Rachel might meet?”
“Yes.”
“Did you intend them to become romantically involved?”
“No.”
“But when they did?”
“I panicked.”
“What did you do?”
“I told Pierce we had to intervene.”
“He wrote no intervention recommended.”
“He convinced me.”
“How?”
“He said they were distant enough genetically that the medical risk was limited.”
“Did he know about the variant?”
“Not yet.”
“When did you learn?”
“After Emma was born.”
My stomach turned.
“And you still said nothing.”
“Yes.”
Anna looked physically ill.
“You watched Rachel have Noah.”
Margaret nodded.
“Yes.”
“Knowing?”
“Knowing there might be increased risk.”
Anna stood again.
“I can’t listen to this.”
She walked away.
Margaret started to rise.
“Sit.”
She did.
“You do not get to chase her because your confession hurts.”
Margaret covered her face.
I waited.
Eventually she lowered her hands.
“What happened after Thomas died?”
“I inherited administrative control of the trust.”
“You could have shut it down.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Pierce argued that we could use the money to monitor everyone Thomas affected and pay for treatment if necessary.”
“Without telling them.”
“Yes.”
“Why not simply contact the families?”
“Because then we would have to explain how Thomas had manipulated them.”
“That was the point.”
“I know.”
I stared at her.
“You were not protecting them.”
“No.”
“You were protecting yourself.”
“Yes.”
Finally.
A clean answer.
No qualification.
“Did Daniel know you controlled the trust?”
“No.”
“Did you deliberately keep it from him?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“He would have exposed everything.”
“Correct.”
“I was afraid.”
“I know.”
This time I used the phrase.
Margaret flinched.
Good.
“Did you manipulate Michael’s scholarship?”
“Yes.”
“Rachel’s tuition grant?”
“Yes.”
“Any other part of their relationship?”
“No.”
“Jobs?”
“No.”
“Housing?”
“No.”
“Wedding?”
“No.”
“Children?”
“No.”
I believed the last answers more because she no longer seemed to be trying to save herself.
“Who took Emma’s blood sample?”
“Pierce.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He called me afterward.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him to destroy it.”
“Did he?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“He said Emma’s condition proved Thomas had been right.”
My stomach turned.
“And what did you say?”
“That Thomas being right about a genetic risk did not make what he did right.”
At least that much.
“Why did Pierce bring the records today?”
“I called him after you left my house.”
“So you sent him.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Margaret gave a small, miserable laugh.
“Habit.”
That answer was probably the truest thing she had said.
“What happens to the trust now?”
“I can dissolve it.”
“No.”
She looked surprised.
“No?”
“You can surrender control to the authorities.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“All funds.”
“Yes.”
“All records.”
“Yes.”
“No private destruction.”
“Yes.”
“No choosing which families should know.”
Her face tightened.
“Yes.”
“They all get the opportunity to learn what happened to them.”
“Yes.”
“Opportunity,” I repeated. “Not forced disclosure if an adult chooses not to know details.”
Margaret nodded.
“Yes.”
For the first time, we were discussing choice correctly.
Not deciding truth for people.
Making truth available to them.
“Call Klein.”
Margaret did.
She put him on speaker.
She told him everything.
The trust.
The scholarships.
The monitoring.
Her access.
Pierce.
When she finished, Klein was silent.
Then:
“Do not touch any records.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not access the trust accounts.”
“I won’t.”
“I’m notifying investigators.”
“I understand.”
He hung up.
Margaret looked at me.
“What happens now?”
“That is not mine to decide.”
She nodded.
“I suppose that’s the point.”
“Yes.”
I found Anna outside near the hospital garden.
She was sitting alone.
I sat beside her.
For several minutes neither of us spoke.
Finally she said, “I spent my childhood believing my father abandoned me.”
I listened.
“Then I learned my grandparents lied.”
“Yes.”
“Then I learned my uncle manipulated your family.”
“Yes.”
“And now Margaret.”
“Yes.”
She laughed softly.
“I keep wondering which family I’m supposed to belong to.”
“You don’t have to choose one.”
She looked at me.
“That sounds simple.”
“It probably isn’t.”
“No.”
We watched leaves move across the pavement.
“Daniel asked you to love me.”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
The question surprised me.
“I don’t know you well enough yet.”
Anna nodded.
Then smiled faintly.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Not pretending.”
I thought of Daniel’s letter.
If you can love her, do. If you cannot, be honest.
“I would like to know you.”
Her eyes filled.
“I’d like that too.”
That was enough.
When we returned upstairs, Rachel was waiting.
She looked at Anna.
“Can we talk?”
Anna nodded.
They went into an empty family room.
Michael watched them leave.
“What did Klein want?”
I told him about Margaret.
His face went blank.
“She put us at the same college.”
“Yes.”
He sat.
For several minutes he said nothing.
Then:
“Do I tell Rachel now?”
“Yes.”
He nodded.
No hesitation.
He stood and went after her.
I felt something loosen inside me.
Not because another painful truth was coming.
Because this time no one delayed it.
Samuel approached from the other end of the hallway.
“Laura booked us a hotel.”
“Good.”
He looked toward Emma’s room.
“Is she all right?”
“For tonight.”
He nodded.
“That’s something.”
“Yes.”
“Ellen.”
I looked at him.
“There’s one thing I haven’t told Michael.”
My exhaustion turned immediately to anger.
Samuel raised his hand.
“Not a secret about his birth.”
“What then?”
“Daniel came to Phoenix six months ago.”
“I know you met last year.”
“He came again.”
“When?”
“April.”
“What did he want?”
Samuel’s expression softened.
“To ask me whether I wanted to be part of Michael’s life.”
I stared.
“What did you say?”
“That it wasn’t his decision.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
“What did Daniel say?”
“That was exactly what he needed to hear.”
My eyes filled.
Samuel continued.
“He said if he survived treatment, he was going home to tell you everything.”
“He didn’t survive.”
“No.”
“He also didn’t tell me while he had the chance.”
“No.”
Samuel looked down.
“He asked me something else.”
“What?”
“If I thought you would leave him.”
The question hurt.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I had met you twice and had no idea.”
I laughed softly.
“Reasonable.”
“He said he thought you might.”
“Maybe I would have.”
Samuel nodded.
“Then he said something strange.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘That is why I have to tell her.’”
I closed my eyes.
Daniel had finally understood.
Too late.
But he had understood.
My phone rang.
Klein again.
“Ellen, investigators found the original trust charter.”
“And?”
“It includes instructions for what happens if Margaret resigns or becomes unable to administer it.”
“I assume Pierce.”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“A beneficiary.”
“Who?”
“Daniel.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Thomas named Daniel Hale as contingent controller.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It gets stranger.”
“How?”
“The document was signed in 2003.”
“Daniel didn’t know.”
“Apparently not.”
“Why would Thomas give control of his work to the man he spent decades tormenting?”
Klein paused.
“There’s a handwritten clause.”
“Read it.”
He did.
If Daniel Hale ever discovers the full scope of this work, the experiment is complete. Give him everything.
My skin went cold.
Thomas had planned even his own exposure as part of the experiment.
“What did he think he was proving?”
“We found a final notebook.”
“And?”
Klein’s voice lowered.
“The last subject wasn’t Michael.”
I gripped the phone.
“Who was it?”
“Daniel.”
Click here to continue reading: PART 20: Thomas’s Final Notebook Explained Why Daniel Had Always Been the True Subject, and I Finally Chose What His Secrets Could No Longer Decide
The Last Thing Daniel Said Made No Sense Until a Stranger Knocked Before I Had Put Away His Funeral Dress
Part 19 of 20
