Chapter 3 - Ghosts of the West Wing
The air in the kitchen grew so heavy it felt difficult to breathe. Edward held the paper in his hand, his thumb pressing into the sharp corner of the document until it creaked.
Julian. His brilliant, troubled younger brother. Julian had been the black sheep of the Drummond family—a sculptor, an idealist, a man who hated the corporate brutality of Back Bay. Seven years ago, Julian’s car had plunged off a cliff on the coast of Maine during a stormy midnight drive. His body had never been recovered from the churning Atlantic waters, but his wrecked vehicle and blood-stained seatbelt had been enough for the authorities to declare him dead.
Now, holding this paper, Edward felt the foundations of his reality crumble.
"Explain this," Edward said. His tone wasn't loud, but it carried the authority of a judge passing a death sentence. "Now, Victoria."
Victoria straightened her back, trying desperately to piece her aristocratic mask back together. She smoothed her silk blouse, though her hands were shaking violently.
"Julian was a fool," Victoria hissed, dropping all pretense of innocence. "A weak, pathetic fool who embarrassed this family at every turn. Seven years ago, before he vanished, he was seeing some nobody. A waitress. A nobody named Clara Miller."
Edward’s mind connected the dots with horrifying speed. "Sophia’s mother."
"Yes!" Victoria spat. "Clara was pregnant when Julian disappeared. She came to me back then, begging for help, claiming Julian promised to marry her. I gave her fifty thousand dollars to pack her trashy little life up and get out of Boston. I thought that was the end of it."
"You bought off a pregnant woman carrying a Drummond heir?" Edward took a step toward her. "And what about the baby? What about Sophia?"
"Sophia was born seven years ago. A girl. She didn't matter," Victoria sneered callously. "Under Father's trust, the legacy passes through the primary male line. A illegitimate girl couldn't touch the estate. But then... three weeks ago, Clara Miller died of cancer."
Edward’s heart hammered in his chest. "Go on."
"Clara’s mother took the girl. But what I didn't know—what nobody knew—was that Clara was pregnant again when she went into the hospital! She had been keeping a secret. A secret relationship with a surrogate bank using Julian's frozen samples from before his death, or some ridiculous secret affair before he died... I don't know the exact details! All I know is that two weeks ago, a baby boy was born in a back-alley clinic."
"And the clinic contacted you," Edward realized, reading between the lines.
"They recognized the Drummond name on the paperwork Clara left behind!" Victoria yelled, her eyes flashing with wild hatred. "They ran a secret DNA match against our family registry to verify the claim before pressing for child support! The results came to me three days ago. A male heir, Edward! A direct, legal male descendant of the Drummond bloodline!"
"If Julian had a son," Edward said, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and grief, "that boy is the rightful owner of half of Drummond Global. He is my nephew. My family."
"He is a threat!" Victoria screamed, abandoning all restraint. "Do you have any idea what happens if that boy is recognized? My sons get nothing! I get pushed out of the succession! Everything I worked twenty years to build while you sat here mourning your dead marriage vanishes!"
"So you took him," Edward said, horror dawning on him. "You took a newborn baby from a clinic, brought him here, and dumped him in a garbage bag behind my garage?"
"I didn't take him!" Victoria snapped. "I hired someone to make him disappear! It was supposed to be clean! The man was supposed to take the kid to a shelter in New York, leave him anonymously! But the bastard panicked! He saw security guards on the property last night, got scared, dropped the bag in the alley dumpsters, and ran!"
Edward stared at his sister, feeling a profound disgust that twisted his stomach. "You left a baby—your own nephew's child—to freeze to death in a trash bag."
"He shouldn't exist!" Victoria shrieked. "He's an anomaly! A mistake!"
"The only mistake here," Edward said, leaning in until he was inches from her face, "is that I allowed you to share my name for fifty-two years."
Before Victoria could answer, footsteps sounded at the top of the stairs. Dr. Harrison, the family physician, stepped down, holding a medical clipboard. Behind him was Mrs. Martinez, carrying the baby, now freshly bathed and wrapped in a soft yellow fleece blanket. Behind them limped little Sophia, wearing an oversized pair of sweatpants tucked into clean socks.
"Edward," Dr. Harrison said gravely. "The baby is cold and slightly dehydrated, but miraculously unharmed. However... we have a serious situation."
"What is it, Arthur?" Edward asked, keeping one eye on Victoria, who looked like a cornered animal.
"The little girl," Dr. Harrison said, looking at Sophia with deep concern. "She has severe malnutrition, old fractures in her leg that were never properly set... and something else. When I checked her neck, I found a silver locket."
Sophia reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, tarnished silver heart on a broken chain. "Grandma told me never to lose this," she said softly. "She said inside was a picture of my daddy and his sister."
Edward walked over to Sophia, knelt down on the hard floor—ignoring the pain in his knees—and gently took the locket. He popped the small clasp open.
Inside was a faded photograph.
It showed a young Julian Drummond, laughing, with his arm around a young girl with dark hair. But it wasn't Victoria.
It was a girl Edward hadn't seen in thirty years. A sister the family had declared dead when Edward was just a teenager.
Edward’s breath hitched in his throat. "Margaret?" he whispered.
May you like
Victoria’s face drained of every last drop of blood. "No..." she gasped. "That’s impossible. She’s dead! Father said she died in the asylum!"
Sophia looked at Edward with her big, innocent blue eyes. "Grandma’s name isn't Miller," she whispered. "Her name is Margaret Drummond. She told me to come to the big house if anything ever happened to her."
