Chapter 3: The Name She Tried to Erase
Felicity pulled her wrist away from the groom.
“Julian, you’re hurting me.”
“I barely touched you,” he said.
“Answer the question.”
She looked toward our father.
“Dad, tell them.
Eleanor has always used different names when it suits her.”
“My legal name is Eleanor Hart,” I said.
“Hart was my mother’s surname.
It is printed on my hospital badge.”
Felicity gave a brittle laugh.
“And our family name is Mercer.
How was I supposed to know who Silas meant?”
“You knew exactly who I meant,” Silas said.
“My letter included the hospital, department, and date.”
Dad pushed back his chair.
“This is a wedding, not a courtroom.”
“Then stop treating the truth like an interruption,” Julian said.
A murmur moved across the room.
Felicity snatched the microphone from the table, but Julian switched it off.
“This is ridiculous,” she said.
“Eleanor received plenty of letters.
She ignores people, then blames us.”
“I was living in your house when Silas wrote,” I said.
“You collected the mail every morning.”
Felicity’s eyes hardened.
“Because you could barely manage your own life.”
“Name one thing I failed to manage.”
“You cried after difficult shifts.
You slept all day.
You forgot family dinners.”
“I worked nights in an emergency room.”
“There,” Felicity said, turning to the guests.
“She always has an excuse.”
Silas held up his phone.
“You did not merely reject my offer.
You wrote that Eleanor Hart was using a false identity and should not be contacted again.”
“I was protecting your family from a stranger.”
“You asked my office for money six weeks later.”
Felicity stopped moving.
Julian looked at his father.
“What money?”
Silas opened another email.
“A donation request for something called the Felicity Care Initiative.
She used Eleanor’s story in the proposal.”
My fingers released the fabric of my dress.
“You used what happened on that bridge?”
Felicity lifted her chin.
“I was building a charitable project.
At least I was trying to turn your one useful night into something meaningful.”
The words landed harder than the laughter had.
“You called six hours beside a frightened patient one useful night?”
“You were paid to be there.”
Silas stepped between us.
“She held my hand while the rescue team cut through the vehicle.
She found my son’s number when I couldn’t speak clearly.
Do not reduce that to a paycheck.”
Dad pointed toward the doors.
“Eleanor, go home.
You’ve caused enough embarrassment.”
My knees nearly gave way.
“I caused this?”
“You could have spoken privately,” he said.
“Your mother would have been ashamed to see you ruin your sister’s wedding.”
The room tilted.
I caught the back of a chair.
“Do not use my mother against me.”
A hand steadied my elbow.
I expected Silas, but it was my stepmother, Denise.
“Martin,” she said to my father, “her mother would have asked why we kept Eleanor’s mail.”
Dad’s face changed.
Felicity spun toward her.
“What are you talking about?”
Denise reached into her handbag and placed a faded envelope on the table.
My name was written across it correctly.
“I found this in Felicity’s old desk last month.”
The return address belonged to Montgomery Holdings.
Silas touched the broken seal.
“This is not the letter I sent.”
“No,” Denise said.
“It’s the second one.”
May you like
Felicity lunged for it, but I reached the envelope first.
Inside was a statement bearing my name, my signature—and a payment of one hundred thousand dollars that I had never seen.
