Chapter 3 - Logan Finally Stopped Laughing
The next morning Logan showed up outside Jenna’s apartment.
He didn’t have the new car.
He came in his old Range Rover, which somehow made the situation feel even more insulting.
I met him downstairs.
“What do you know?”
He pushed his sunglasses onto his head.
“Mom wants you home.”
“I asked what you know.”
“Claire, this is bigger than one stupid picture.”
That was the moment I knew.
“You knew Rebecca was alive.”
He looked away.
“How long?”
“Claire—”
“How long?”
“Since I was eighteen.”
Ten years.
My brother had known for ten years.
I felt something inside me go unnaturally calm.
“Who is she?”
Logan rubbed the back of his neck.
“You need to talk to Mom.”
“No.”
“She raised you.”
I stared at him.
The wording landed differently now.
Not she’s your mother.
She raised you.
“Logan.”
He swore under his breath.
“Rebecca had problems.”
“What kind?”
“Drugs. Pills. I don’t know. Mom said she wasn’t safe.”
“Why does that have anything to do with me?”
He looked at me.
Then he looked away again.
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
“Mom and Dad were trying to protect you.”
I stepped backward.
“Rebecca is my mother?”
He didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
Twenty-four years of my life rearranged themselves in less than five seconds.
Diane wasn’t my biological mother.
She was my aunt.
Rebecca Hale Morgan was the woman who gave birth to me.
I sat down on the apartment building steps.
Logan crouched nearby but didn’t touch me.
“What did she tell you?”
“That Rebecca got addicted after you were born. Grandma helped Mom take you for a while. Eventually Rebecca signed adoption papers.”
“And then she died?”
Logan closed his eyes.
“That part wasn’t true.”
I looked at him.
“You knew Mom lied to me.”
“I was eighteen when I found out.”
“And you said nothing for ten years.”
“What was I supposed to do? Walk up to you at Thanksgiving and tell you your whole childhood was fake?”
“You could've told me once I became an adult.”
“She made me promise.”
I almost laughed.
“Of course she did.”
Logan stood.
“You think this was easy for me?”
I looked at the gold watch Diane had bought him last Christmas.
The country-club membership she paid for.
The down payment she had quietly helped him with when he bought his condo.
Then I remembered the car key from yesterday.
A gift at my graduation.
In front of me.
While everyone watched.
A strange thought entered my mind.
“When Mom gave you that car yesterday, why did you tell me not to open the envelope?”
Logan’s expression changed.
Small.
But enough.
May you like
The car suddenly didn’t look like favoritism anymore.
It looked like payment.
