A wave of disgust washed through Rory as she listened to Thia lay the details end to end. “Your father thought of everything.”
“Yes.”
Rory dragged a hand through her hair. She had no words for what she was feeling. Rage. Loathing. Raw grief. None of it seemed adequate. To steal a woman’s child and sell it to strangers. His own flesh and blood. It was unconscionable. And it would fall to her to break the news to Soline.
“I haven’t even told Soline that Anson is alive. How am I supposed to tell her this?”
Thia’s brows shot up. “You came here without telling her?”
“I just found out yesterday, and before I said a word, I needed to understand what happened and why. Soline’s been through so much over the years, and it’s left her fragile. I was worried about how she’d take the news that the man she loved with all her heart came home from the war and never bothered to look for her.”
“It wasn’t Anson’s fault,” Thia said abruptly. “When my father told him Soline left because she didn’t want him if he was going to be a cripple, it broke something in him. It’s why he opted to stay in Switzerland for his rehabilitation—and because my father persuaded him it was the best place for him. And he did learn to walk again, but he came home so broken and bitter I hardly recognized him.”
“But you told him the truth when he finally came home, didn’t you? About the baby and what your father had done?”
“How could I tell him? I didn’t know myself until my father died and I had to go through his papers.” She stood, crossing to a nearby closet, and threw open the door, revealing a stack of cardboard storage boxes. “This is what putting your father’s affairs in order looks like. Anson was out of the country when he died—naturally—so it fell to me. I had no idea the man was such a pack rat. I threw out tons. And then one day, I came across this.”
After a few moments of poking around, she produced a dark-red ledger book held closed with a pair of heavy rubber bands. “It was headed for the throwaway pile until I looked closely at the entries—and what else I found inside.”
“What is it?”
“The truth,” Thia replied as she pulled off the rubber bands and handed it to Rory. “It’s all there. All the payments and the paperwork, everything my father needed to erase Soline and the baby from our lives. I need you to look at it before I say more.”
The words felt vaguely ominous, hovering between them like a threat. Rory held her breath as she opened the book. The name D. Sheridan nearly leapt off the page. She remembered Soline mentioning her, but seeing it here, presumably in Owen’s handwriting, made her sick to her stomach. There were other names too: a Dr. Marcus Hartwell, an Elliot Mason, Esq. A doctor, a lawyer, and the Family Aid Society.
Thia hovered as Rory began turning the pages, scanning long lists of entries. Charitable contribution. Medical expenses. Charitable contribution. Charitable contribution. Court fees. Documents. Charitable contribution. The first entry had been made on October 24, 1943, the last on August 12, 1972. Dates. Dollar amounts. It was all so neat, so careful, as if the entries were mere business expenditures.
“Twenty-eight years,” Rory breathed, still staring at the book. “The entries become more sporadic over time, but some of these payments are five figures.”
“Hush money,” Thia said matter-of-factly. “At least that’s my guess. He would have been ruined if word got out that he’d paid to get rid of his own grandchild. And there was Anson to consider. He knew the Purcell dynasty would topple if Anson caught so much as a whiff of this. Not that it mattered. Anson never wanted it to begin with. I’m sure my father’s spinning in his grave as we speak, knowing I’m mistress of his house and running the family business.”
“Anson didn’t want it?”
Thia shook her head sadly. “My brother hasn’t spent a collective month under this roof since he came back from Switzerland. Not that I blame him. There was always so much unhappiness here after my mother died. My father was never a kind man, but he got worse when he lost her. You’d think the idea of a grandchild would have softened him.”
“How long have you known about all of this?”
“Four months, give or take.”
“And Anson still doesn’t know?”
“No.”
Rory struggled to keep her tone even. “You didn’t think your brother should know he and Soline had a daughter?”