Chapter 5 - MY SISTER'S CONFESSIONFor several seconds, nobody moved.
Then Melanie laughed.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
It was the kind of laugh people make when they're terrified.
“I know what it looks like.”
I stared at her.
“Then explain.”
She looked at our father.
“Dad told me when I was eighteen.”
My father closed his eyes.
I felt betrayed all over again.
“What did he tell you?”
“That Mom wasn't who we thought she was.”
“What else?”
“That you were being watched.”
“By whom?”
“The same people who killed her.”
I stared at my sister.
“Then why did you spend your entire life making me feel like I was the unwanted daughter?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because Dad told me to.”
My father whispered:
“Melanie…”
She turned on him.
“No!”
She pointed at him.
“You told me Claire had to believe I hated her.”
I looked at my father.
“What?”
Melanie continued.
“You said if Claire thought I loved her, she would stay close to me.”
I couldn't speak.
“And if she stayed close to me, whoever was watching us would know where she was.”
My father covered his face.
Melanie began crying.
“I was eighteen, Claire. I didn't understand.”
I sat down.
My entire childhood suddenly looked different.
Every insult.
Every argument.
Every time Melanie had seemed favored.
Every birthday when my parents had celebrated her while barely acknowledging me.
It had all been theater.
A cruel, elaborate performance designed to make the enemy believe I wasn't important.
“You hated me,” I whispered.
“No.”
“You acted like you did.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were Dad's favorite.”
“I know.”
“You made me feel like my career embarrassed you.”
“I know.”
She walked toward me.
“I thought protecting you meant making you hate me.”
I looked away.
“Did it work?”
She cried harder.
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then she whispered:
“I'm sorry.”
I wanted to forgive her.
But thirty-six years of pain don't disappear because someone finally explains them.
I stood.
“Who is the fourth person?”
Melanie looked at my father.
He nodded.
She answered.
“Your mother's commanding officer.”
“Name?”
“Admiral James Carter.”
My blood froze.
James Carter.
My mentor.
The man who had recommended me for my first major command.
The man who had attended every promotion ceremony.
The man who had called me “daughter” in front of half the fleet.
The man who had sent me a retirement gift three days ago.
My phone rang.
His name appeared on the screen.
ADMIRAL CARTER
Everyone stared at it.
I answered.
“Carter.”
His voice was calm.
“Claire.”
“What do you want?”
“Congratulations.”
“On what?”
“Surviving.”
The room went silent.
My grip tightened.
“What did you say?”
“You finally found the house.”
My father whispered:
“He knows.”
Carter continued.
“I always wondered when Eleanor's daughter would discover the truth.”
“You killed my mother.”
“No.”
His voice became colder.
“Your father did.”
I looked at Robert.
“What?”
Carter laughed softly.
“Ask him.”
I turned.
“Dad?”
Robert looked destroyed.
Carter continued.
“Ask him what happened the night your mother disappeared.”
The call ended.
I stared at my father.
“What did you do?”
He couldn't answer.
“Dad!”
Finally, he whispered:
“I shot her.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“What?”
“I didn't kill her.”
He looked at me.
“But I shot her.”
I stepped backward.
“Why?”
“She was going to surrender.”
“To whom?”
“Carter.”
Admiral Whitaker slammed his hand onto the table.
“Robert!”
“I had no choice!”
“There is always a choice.”
My father looked at me.
“She had discovered Carter was the traitor.”
“And?”
“He found her.”
My father began crying.
“I shot her because she told me to.”
I stared.
“What?”
“She knew they would torture her.”
“She told me to shoot her and make it look like she died.”
My heart hammered.
“Did she survive?”
My father looked at me.
“Yes.”
The room went completely silent.
“Where is she?”
May you like
He whispered:
“I don't know.”
