PART 2: THREE AMBULANCES AT DAWN—AND THE SECRET MY HUSBAND’S FAMILY PAID TO HIDE - 035
PART 2: THREE AMBULANCES AT DAWN—AND THE SECRET MY HUSBAND’S FAMILY PAID TO HIDE – 035
Eleanor Walsh had always possessed the kind of presence that altered a room.
At holiday dinners, conversations paused when she entered.
At family gatherings, even people who disliked her seemed to seek her approval.
Now her gray hair had fallen loose from its careful twist.
Her hands trembled against the blanket.
She heard Sienna.
I knew she had because her eyes lifted sharply.
“Sienna,” Eleanor said through the mask.
It was not a warning spoken loudly.
It did not need to be.
Sienna lowered her gaze.
A paramedic emerged from the guest room.
“Mrs. Walsh?”
For one irrational moment, I thought he meant Eleanor.
Then I realized he was looking at me.
“We’re taking your husband to St.
Vincent’s.
His condition appears stable enough for transport, but the hospital will need to run tesTS. Do you know whether he has any heart condition or takes medication?”
“No heart condition that I know of.”
“Any prescriptions?”
I thought of the packet in his jacket.
“I found something tonight,” I said carefully.
“Medication that may not have been prescribed to him.”
The paramedic’s expression changed.
“What kind?”
I told him.
He nodded and immediately turned back toward the room.
Behind me, Sienna made a sound that was almost a sob.
I looked at her.
“Did he take anything else?”
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“I don’t know.” Her voice cracked.
“He brought wine.
I didn’t see him take the pills.
He said he already had.”
The words hung between us.
Not because they confirmed the affair.
That truth was already standing in the hallway wearing a robe.
What caught my attention was the way she said it.
Not with tenderness.
Not even with guilt.
She sounded frightened, but underneath the fear was something else.
Resentment.
A second team of paramedics began preparing Eleanor for transport.
She protested weakly, insisting she did not need a hospital, but no one listened.
Her blood pressure was dangerously high, and she had briefly lost consciousness.
The third ambulance had been called for my father-in-law, Arthur.
He had arrived from the detached guest cottage after hearing the sirens, walked into the hall, seen Julian being carried out, and developed severe chest pain.
Three ambulances.
One for my husband.
One for his mother.
One for his father.
By one in the morning, the house that had hosted engagement dinners, charity luncheons, and carefully staged Christmas photographs had become an emergency scene.
And through all of it, Ethan was still at work.
I stood near the staircase with my phone in my hand.
His name glowed on the screen.
For six years, Ethan had been more than my brother-in-law.
He was the quiet member of the family, the one who helped clear dishes without being asked and remembered which tea I preferred.
When Julian worked late, Ethan sometimes stayed after family dinners to fix a sticking door or carry boxes from the attic.
He was dependable in ways Julian considered ordinary.
I had watched him leave the house that evening in a reflective work jacket, apologizing to Sienna for missing another weekend morning with their son.
Now I had to tell him why there were three ambulances outside his family home.
My thumb hovered over his number.
Sienna stepped closer.
“Please don’t call him yet.”
I looked up slowly.
She had changed clothes.
Someone had found her jeans and a sweater, but she had buttoned the cardigan unevenly, and her hands would not stop shaking.
“He deserves to know,” I said.
“I know.”
“Then why shouldn’t I call?”
“Because he’ll drive too fast.”
It was a believable concern.
That did not make it the real reason.
“He’s twenty-six miles away,” she continued.
“He’s exhausted.
He’s operating equipment.
Let me tell him when his shift ends.”
“His brother is being taken to the hospital.”
“And if he gets into an accident rushing back, what then?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
I had never seen Sienna look so unguarded.
She was usually composed, even when angry.
She chose her clothes carefully, laughed at the right moments, and understood exactly how people saw her.
That night, all of that had disappeared.
Still, I pressed the call button.
She reached for my wrist.
I pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’ve had months to be sorry.”
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Then went to voicemail.
Ethan’s recorded voice sounded cheerful and distracted.
“Leave a message.
I’ll call when I’m above ground.”
I ended the call without speaking.
Above ground.
I had forgotten his crew was working in a section of a rail tunnel where phone service was unreliable.
Sienna closed her eyes.
I should have hated her.
Part of me did.
But hatred was not the strongest feeling moving through me.
Confusion was.
Sienna had said Eleanor already knew, yet Eleanor’s collapse had seemed real.
The shock on her face when the guest room door opened had not looked rehearsed.
Unless she had known something else.
Unless there was more than one secret in the room.
A police officer approached us from the front hall.
“Mrs. Walsh, we need to ask a few basic questions before you leave for the hospital.”
“Of course.”
He glanced toward Sienna.
“You as well.”
Sienna wrapped her arms around herself.
The questions were simple at first.
Who lived in the house? Who had been present? Had there been an argument? Had Julian taken any illegal substance? Was anyone harmed intentionally?
“No,” I said.
The answer came quickly because, as far as I knew, it was true.
The officer made notes.
“Who found him?”
“We all heard Sienna scream,” I said.
“The guest room door was locked.
Arthur forced it open.”
The officer looked at Sienna.
“Why was the door locked?”
She stared at the floor.
“For privacy.”
He did not react.
“And Mr. Walsh collapsed after taking medication?”
“I think so.”
“You think so?”
“He had the pills with him.”
The officer turned to me.
“You found them earlier?”
“In his jacket.”
“Did you remove or alter them?”
“No.
I put them back.”
Sienna suddenly looked at me.
It was the first time she appeared genuinely surprised.
“You knew before he came upstairs?”
“I suspected.”
“But you didn’t stop him?”
Her question cut more deeply than it should have.
“What exactly would you have liked me to do?” I asked.
“Stand in the hallway and remind you both that you were married to other people?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
The officer shifted slightly, perhaps expecting the conversation to escalate.
It did not.
I had no desire to shout.
For months I had imagined discovering the truth.
In some versions, I confronted Julian.
In others, I packed a bag and disappeared before he realized I knew.
None of those imagined scenes included ambulances, oxygen masks, or my sister-in-law asking why I had not protected her from the consequences of her choices.
The officer asked whether there were children in the house.
Sienna’s expression changed instantly.
“My son is with my sister tonight,” she said.
“He’s not here.”
Relief softened her face.
For the first time that evening, I understood something important.
Whatever else Sienna had done, she was thinking about Noah.
Six years old, curious, serious, and obsessed with trains.
Ethan’s son.
At least, I had always believed he was Ethan’s son.
The thought arrived so quietly that it frightened me.
I pushed it away.
The officer finished his notes and stepped aside.
By then, all three ambulances had gone.
The sudden silence outside felt unnatural.
I found my purse, put on a coat, and headed for the door.
Sienna followed me.
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“He may need information.”
“Then tell the doctors what you know when they call.”
“I can’t stay here alone.”
I turned.
The house behind her looked enormous.
Its polished floors reflected the emergency lights still fading from the windows.
A broken lamp lay outside the guest room, and the air carried the faint sharp smell of medical supplies.
For years, I had thought of the house as Eleanor and Arthur’s symbol of success.
Julian and I were staying there temporarily while renovations were completed on our home across town.
Temporary had become four monThS.
Now I wondered whether that had been accidental.
“You won’t be alone,” I said.
“The police are still here.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I studied her face.
“What did Eleanor know?”
Sienna swallowed.
“Not about Julian and me.”
The answer came too fast.
“What, then?”
She glanced toward the officer near the front door.
“Please.
At the hospital.”
“You’ve lost the right to ask me for trust.”
“I’m not asking you to trust me.”
“What are you asking?”
“For ten minutes before you decide what you think happened tonight.”
“I know what happened.”
“No.” She shook her head.
“You know part of it.”
A cold sensation moved across my shoulders.
Sienna stepped closer, keeping her voice low.
“Julian didn’t come upstairs because of me.”
I almost laughed.
“You were in a locked bedroom together.”
“Yes.”
“Half dressed.”
“Yes.”
“And he had pills in his pocket.”
Her eyes briefly closed.
“Yes.”
“Then choose your next sentence carefully.”
“He came because I told him I had found something.”
The officer looked in our direction.
Sienna lowered her voice further.
“Something about the Walsh family accounTS.”
I said nothing.
Sienna’s breathing grew uneven.
“Julian has been paying me.”
I thought of the handbags.
The earrings.
The clothes.
“For the affair.”
“No.”
The word was immediate.
“For my silence.”
The front door opened, letting in a rush of cold night air.
Another officer stepped inside, spoke quietly to his colleague, and both moved toward the dining room.
I watched them go.
“What silence?”
Sienna’s gaze moved toward the staircase.
“There’s a blue folder hidden in Eleanor’s room.
Behind the bottom drawer of her writing desk.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Julian made me put it there.”
Before I could answer, one of the officers called my name.
“Mrs. Walsh?”
I walked toward him.
He stood beside the dining table, where I had left a stack of mail earlier that evening.
In his hand was an opened envelope.
“Do you recognize this?”
The letterhead belonged to a private medical laboratory in New York.
My name was printed beneath the address.
“I’ve never seen it.”
“It was on the floor near the stairs.”
Sienna went still behind me.
The officer handed me the page.
At first, the words made no sense.
Genetic comparison.
Probability of relationship.
Samples received.
I read the first paragraph twice.
Then a third time.
The report did not concern me.
It concerned Julian and Ethan.
The laboratory had compared DNA samples labeled with their names.
The result stated that they were not biologically related as full siblings.
There was also a handwritten note across the bottom.
Eleanor lied to both of them.
I looked up.
“Where did this come from?”
The officer nodded toward a leather document case near the staircase.
It belonged to Arthur.
I had seen him carrying it earlier that evening when he came into the main house.
In the confusion after Julian collapsed, the case must have fallen open.
Sienna made a quiet sound.
“You knew about this?” I asked.
“Not that report.”
“But you knew something.”
She pressed her lips together.
The officer glanced between us.
“Is there a reason this document might be connected to tonight’s medical emergency?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
For once, it was the complete truth.
At the hospital, the emergency waiting room glowed beneath harsh fluorescent lighTS.
Eleanor was being examined in one treatment area.
Arthur had been moved to cardiology observation.
Julian remained behind closed doors while doctors ran tesTS.
Sienna sat at the far end of the waiting room, both hands wrapped around a paper cup of water.
I sat opposite her.
Between us rested Arthur’s leather case.
The police had allowed me to bring it after determining it contained no immediate evidence of a crime.
They had photographed the laboratory report and asked that no documents be discarded.
I had not opened the case again.
Not yet.
A nurse approached.
“Mrs. Julian Walsh?”
I stood.
“Your husband is awake.
His heart rhythm has stabilized.
The doctor believes his reaction may have involved a combination of medication, dehydration, and another substance they’re still identifying.”
“Can I see him?”
“In a few minutes.”
“Will he be all right?”
“He’s responding well.
The physician will explain more.”
I thanked her.
Sienna released a long breath.
Relief crossed her face before she could hide it.
I noticed.
She noticed me noticing.
“I don’t want him to die,” she said.
“I didn’t think you did.”
“That doesn’t mean I love him.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“No, but you believe it.”
I looked through the glass doors toward the treatment rooms.
“What happened upstairs?”
She stared at the water cup.
“Julian came into the guest room after midnight.
I had messaged him earlier and told him I was done waiting.”
“For what?”
“For the money he promised Ethan.”
That was not the answer I expected.
Sienna set the cup aside.
“Ethan was supposed to receive a share from the sale of the old paper mill property.”
I knew the property.
Arthur and his business partners had bought an abandoned industrial site nearly twenty years earlier.
It sat beside the river outside town, too contaminated to develop and too expensive to clean.
Or so Julian had always said.
Last year, a logistics company purchased the surrounding land for a regional distribution center.
The old mill site became the only parcel connecting the highway access road to the rest of the development.
The sale had made the Walsh family a great deal of money.
No one had ever told me how much.
“Arthur gave Julian control of the family trust,” Sienna continued.
“Julian told Ethan the mill sale barely covered old debTS. He said there was nothing to divide.”
“And you believed otherwise?”
“I found bank statemenTS.”
“In Ethan’s name?”
“In a holding company’s name.
But the original trust agreement listed both brothers as equal beneficiaries.”
The word brothers sounded different now.
I glanced at the document case.
“How much?”
“Ethan’s share should have been close to four hundred thousand dollars.”
A laugh escaped me, but there was no humor in it.
Julian had spent months complaining that renovations on our house were draining our savings.
He had delayed paying contractors.
He had argued with me over replacing a leaking window in the kitchen.
Four hundred thousand dollars.
“And Julian paid you to keep quiet?”
“He said he needed time to fix it.”
“How much did he give you?”
“Thirty thousand.”
The handbags.
The jewelry.
The clothes.
“You spent it.”
Her cheeks colored.
“Some of it.”
“Why?”
It was a childish question, but I needed to hear her answer.
“At first, I didn’t know where it came from.
Julian said it was an advance from the family trust.
He told me Ethan had asked him to arrange it because we were behind on bills.”
“Did you ask Ethan?”
“He was working constantly.
We barely spoke without arguing.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“No.” She looked directly at me.
“I didn’t ask him.”
The honesty disarmed me more than an excuse would have.
“When did you realize Julian had lied?”
“Three months ago.
I saw a transfer from an account in Julian’s name, not the trust.
I confronted him.
He admitted Ethan was owed money, but he said telling him would tear the family apart.”
“So you stayed quiet.”
“I told myself I was protecting Ethan until Julian corrected it.”
“And did he?”
“No.”
“Then why were you with him in that room?”
Her eyes returned to the cup.
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“I found the blue folder yesterday.
It contains copies of the property sale, the trust, and transfers Julian made afterward.
I told him I would give everything to Ethan.”
“So he came to stop you.”
“Yes.”
“Why was the door locked?”
“Because I didn’t want Eleanor walking in.”
“And the robe?”
Sienna’s face tightened.
“I had spilled wine on my blouse.
Julian grabbed the folder.
We argued.
He accused me of trying to destroy the family.
Then he suddenly couldn’t breathe.”
The explanation was plausible.
Not complete.
I could feel the missing pieces around it.
“The pills?” I asked.
“He showed them to me earlier.”
“Why?”
“He said you found them.”
I stared at her.
“I never told him.”
“No, but he noticed the packet had been moved.”
Julian had always been observant when it served him.
“He thought I was going to confront him,” Sienna continued.
“He told me the pills were for a medical issue he was embarrassed to discuss with you.”
I almost admired the efficiency of the lie.
“What did you believe?”
“I believed he was lying.”
“But you didn’t tell me.”
She looked down.
“No.”
We sat in silence.
A television mounted in the corner played a muted weather report.
A maintenance worker pushed a yellow cart past the doors.
Somewhere nearby, a child began crying, and a tired father murmured reassurance.
The ordinary sounds of the hospital made our conversation feel unreal.
“You said Eleanor knew,” I reminded her.
Sienna glanced toward the corridor where Eleanor had been taken.
“She knew about the money.”
“How?”
“She was the original trustee.”
The revelation settled slowly.
“Julian could not have redirected Ethan’s share without her signature,” Sienna said.
“At least not at first.”
I thought of Eleanor’s carefully arranged dinners.
Her questions about our finances.
The subtle way she encouraged Ethan to accept every disappointment as responsibility.
Family businesses were complicated, she often said.
Some sacrifices were necessary.
“I confronted her last week,” Sienna continued.
“She told me Ethan had already received more than he deserved.”
“More than he deserved because he isn’t Arthur’s son?”
Sienna looked sharply at me.
“What?”
I slid the laboratory report across the table.
She read it.
The color left her face again.
“I’ve never seen this.”
“Arthur was carrying it tonight.”
Sienna looked toward the treatment rooms.
“Does Ethan know?”
“I don’t know.”
“He can’t find out like this.”
“He deserves the truth.”
“He deserves to hear it from his mother.”
“Eleanor has apparently had years to tell him.”
The doors opened, and a doctor stepped into the waiting room.
“Mrs. Walsh?”
He introduced himself as Dr. Patel and led me into a small consultation room.
Julian was stable.
His symptoms had been serious but temporary.
The medication in his system had interacted with a strong sedative.
“A sedative?” I asked.
“Yes.
We’re waiting for a full toxicology result, but the initial screen suggests a prescription sleep aid.”
“Julian doesn’t take sleeping medication.”
“Could he have taken someone else’s by mistake?”
“No.”
“Was he drinking?”
“Wine, apparently.”
The doctor explained that alcohol, dehydration, the enhancement medication, and the sedative together could have caused the dramatic reaction.
“Can I speak with him?”
“Briefly.”
Julian looked pale beneath the hospital blanket.
For six years, I had known every expression on his face.
His public smile.
His tired frown.
The distant look he wore when pretending to listen.
The expression he gave me now was new.
Fear stripped of charm.
“Claire,” he said.
I stopped beside the bed.
He looked past me toward the door.
“Is Sienna here?”
“Yes.”
“Did she tell Ethan?”
“Not yet.”
His eyes closed.
I had expected anger to rise in me.
Instead, I felt a weary sadness.
“What did you take?”
“Nothing.”
“The hospital found a sedative in your system.”
“I didn’t take one.”
“Then how did it get there?”
“I don’t know.”
He looked at me again.
“Did you put something in my drink?”
The question was so quiet that I nearly missed it.
“No.”
“I’m not accusing you.”
“You just did.”
“I saw you with my jacket.”
“When?”
“After dinner.”
I remembered gathering the clothes for the cleaner.
Julian must have been watching from the hall.
“I found the pills,” I said.
“And?”
“And I put them back.”
His jaw tightened.
“You followed me upstairs.”
“No.
I heard the scream with everyone else.”
He studied my face.
For the first time in our marriage, I understood that Julian did not know whether to believe me.
The realization did not feel like victory.
It felt like the end of something.
“Why were you in the guest room?” I asked.
He looked away.
“To discuss a private family matter.”
“Four hundred thousand dollars is more than a private matter.”
His eyes snapped back to mine.
“Sienna told you.”
“She told me enough.”
“She doesn’t understand the trust.”
“Then explain it.”
“I can’t do that here.”
“You have spent six months telling me you were too tired to speak, too stressed to eat, too busy to come home.
Now I find medication in your pocket, you collapse in a locked room with your brother’s wife, and I learn you redirected hundreds of thousands of dollars from Ethan.”
“I didn’t steal anything.”
“What would you call it?”
“Protection.”
“Of whom?”
He hesitated.
That pause told me more than the answer.
“Ethan,” he said.
“From what?”
Julian looked toward the monitor beside him.
“You need to leave this alone.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
His expression hardened, but his voice remained quiet.
“This family has problems you do not understand.”
“I understand that you lied to me.”
“I was trying to fix things.”
“Our marriage?”
“Everything.”
“By hiding money and meeting Sienna after midnight?”
“I was not meeting her for what you think.”
“Then why the pills?”
His face changed.
Not guilt.
Confusion.
“I didn’t put those pills in my jacket.”
The room seemed to narrow around us.
“I found them in the inside pocket.”
“I know.
I saw them after you left the room.
I assumed you put them there.”
“Why would I do that?”
“To test me.
To start an argument.”
The answer was insulting, but Julian appeared sincere.
“Were they prescribed to you?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then whose were they?”
“I don’t know.”
I thought of the blister pack slipping from his jacket.
It had not been in a bottle with his name.
Anyone could have placed it there.
Sienna.
Eleanor.
Arthur.
Even me, if I were the person Julian seemed ready to believe I had become.
“You think someone planned this,” I said.
“I think someone wanted you to find those pills.”
“Why?”
“To make sure you followed me.”
“But I didn’t.”
His gaze held mine.
“Someone did.”
A knock sounded, and the nurse reminded me that Julian needed rest.
As I turned to leave, he spoke again.
“Claire.”
I looked back.
“Don’t let Ethan see the report.”
My hand tightened around the door handle.
“You know about it.”
Julian’s silence answered for him.
“Is Ethan Arthur’s son?”
“That isn’t the question you should be asking.”
“What question should I ask?”
He lowered his voice.
“Why did Arthur order the test now?”
Outside the room, the hallway felt colder.
I returned to the waiting area and found Sienna standing near the windows.
Ethan was beside her.
He still wore his work clothes.
Dust streaked the knees of his trousers, and his reflective jacket hung open over a dark sweater.
His hair was damp from the mist outside.
He looked exhausted.
He also looked as if he had aged several years on the drive to the hospital.
When he saw me, he crossed the room quickly.
“Claire.”
He put both hands on my shoulders, then seemed to remember himself and stepped back.
“Are you all right?”
The question nearly undid me.
Not because I was all right.
Because no one else had asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Where’s Julian?”
“Stable.”
“My parents?”
“Both being treated.
Your mother fainted.
Your father had chest pain, but he’s awake.”
Ethan exhaled.
Then he looked at Sienna.
“What happened?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
He watched her for a moment, then looked at me.
I could have lied.
I could have delayed.
I could have protected him for another hour.
Instead, I said, “You need to hear it from Sienna.”
His face changed.
“Sienna?”
She began to cry.
Not loudly.
Tears simply gathered and fell as she stared at her husband.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Ethan went still.
“For what?”
Sienna glanced at me, but I gave her nothing.
She took a breath.
“I found out Julian withheld money from the mill sale.”
Ethan frowned.
“What money?”
“Money that belonged to you.”
His confusion deepened.
Sienna told him about the trust, the bank statements, and the folder.
She admitted that Julian had transferred money to her.
She admitted spending part of it.
She did not hide behind excuses.
When she finished, Ethan sat down.
For nearly a minute, he said nothing.
Then he asked, “Why were you in the guest room?”
Sienna wiped her cheeks.
“I told Julian I was going to show you the documenTS.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
The room seemed to hold its breath.
“He came to get the folder,” she said.
“Why were you wearing a robe?”
“I spilled wine.”
Ethan stared at her.
“Were you sleeping with him?”
“No.”
The answer was clear.
He looked at me.
I wished he had not.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“I only know what I saw.”
Pain moved across his face, quiet and unmistakable.
Sienna stepped toward him.
“Ethan, I swear—”
He stood.
“I need air.”
He walked through the sliding doors into the parking lot.
Sienna took one step after him, then stopped.
“Go,” I said.
“He won’t listen.”
“Then stand beside him without speaking.”
She hesitated.
“Go.”
After she left, I sat alone with Arthur’s document case.
The zipper seemed louder than it should have when I opened it.
Inside were property records, medical forms, and several sealed envelopes.
One was addressed to Julian.
Another to Eleanor.
The third had my name on it.
Claire Walsh.
The handwriting belonged to Arthur.
I broke the seal.
The letter inside was dated three days earlier.
Claire,
If you are reading this, then I was not able to speak to you privately as I intended.
There are mistakes in this family that began long before you entered it.
Julian believes money can contain the truth.
Eleanor believes silence can preserve a family.
Both are wrong.
The mill sale did not create our present trouble.
It merely exposed it.
You may believe the attached DNA report concerns Ethan’s parentage.
It does not.
The final sentence on the first page has been deliberately removed.
I stopped reading.
My hands had begun to shake.
I pulled the laboratory report from the case and examined the bottom edge.
There it was.
A clean cut across the page, so precise I had mistaken it for the original margin.
Someone had removed a line.
I returned to Arthur’s letter.
Ask the laboratory for the complete report.
Use the reference number written on the back of this page.
Do not give it to Julian.
Do not give it to Eleanor.
And until you know the truth, do not assume Ethan is the child whose identity has been hidden.
The noise of the hospital faded around me.
I turned the letter over.
A reference number had been written in blue ink.
Beneath it were five words.
Claire’s sample confirms the match.
I stared at the sentence until the letters blurred.
My sample.
I had never knowingly given Arthur my DNA.
A shadow fell across the page.
I looked up.
Eleanor stood in front of me, pale but upright, one hand gripping the back of a chair.
Her oxygen mask was gone.
Her eyes moved from the letter to my face.
“You opened Arthur’s case,” she said.
I folded the page instinctively.
“What does this mean?”
Eleanor closed her eyes.
For the first time since I had known her, she did not look powerful.
She looked defeated.
“Where did Arthur get my DNA?”
She lowered herself into the chair across from me.
“From a hairbrush you left here last Christmas.”
My heart began to pound.
“Why?”
“He needed to know.”
“Know what?”
Eleanor looked through the glass doors, where Ethan stood beneath the parking lot lights with his back to Sienna.
Then she looked toward the corridor where Julian lay recovering.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible.
“Which one of my sons is your brother.”
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