Chapter 4 - THE SECOND CRIB"Mom, was I supposed to have a sister?"
Gold asked the question while Abigail was arranging fresh flowers in the mansion's sitting room.
The vase slipped slightly in Abigail's hands.
She steadied it against the table.
"Why would you ask that?"
Gold shrugged.
"I found something."
Abigail turned.
"What did you find?"
Gold held up an old photograph.
It showed Abigail sitting in a nursery before the twins were born.
Behind her stood two white cribs.
Two silver nameplates hung above them.
Gold had discovered the photograph inside an album in the upstairs library.
She had always known that her mother became sad around her birthday.
But whenever Gold asked why, Lawrence told her that Abigail was simply emotional about watching her only child grow older.
Now Gold was beginning to suspect something different.
"Why were there two cribs?" she asked.
Abigail slowly placed the flowers on the table.
For seventeen years, she had tried to shield Gold from the grief surrounding her birth.
She had believed that telling her daughter about the lost twin might burden a little girl with guilt.
But Gold was no longer little.
"Sit down, sweetheart."
Gold looked uncertain.
"Mom?"
"Please."
They sat together on the sofa.
Abigail took her daughter's hand.
"When I was pregnant with you, the doctors told me I was expecting twins."
Gold stared at her.
"Twins?"
"Two little girls."
Gold looked back at the photograph.
"Identical twins?"
Abigail nodded.
Gold's throat tightened.
"What happened?"
Abigail's eyes filled.
"You were both born during a difficult delivery. I became very sick afterward."
"And?"
"Your sister didn't survive."
Gold stopped breathing for a moment.
She looked at the picture again.
The cribs.
The nameplates.
The second space in the nursery.
"What was her name?"
Abigail touched her cheek.
"Diamond."
Gold rose so quickly that the photograph fell onto the carpet.
Abigail reached toward her.
"Sweetheart?"
Gold stepped backward.
"No."
"Gold—"
"No, that can't be right."
Abigail stood.
"What do you mean?"
Gold shook her head.
"There's a girl at school."
Abigail's expression tightened.
"I know."
"She looks like me."
"I've seen her photograph."
"Her name is Diamond."
Abigail said nothing.
Gold felt panic rising.
"She's seventeen."
Abigail gripped the back of the sofa.
"Yes."
"And her birthday..."
Gold paused.
She had seen Diamond's student profile earlier that morning while looking through the Innovation Fellowship directory.
September twelfth.
The same date printed on Gold's birth certificate.
Suddenly, the resemblance no longer felt like an annoying coincidence.
It felt like something enormous standing just beyond her understanding.
"Mom," she whispered, "what happened to my sister?"
Abigail's expression crumpled.
"I've asked myself that question every day."
Across Atlanta, Diamond sat at the kitchen table, staring at her unfinished homework.
Miriam had barely spoken during dinner.
She had spilled a glass of water, forgotten to add salt to the rice, and checked her phone repeatedly.
Diamond finally closed her textbook.
"You're hiding something."
Miriam looked up.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"I'm just tired."
"You always say that when you're worried."
Miriam lowered her eyes.
Diamond leaned forward.
"Is it money?"
"No."
"Did you lose one of your jobs?"
"No."
"Then tell me what's happening."
Miriam rubbed her forehead.
For years, she had dreaded this conversation.
She had imagined Diamond discovering the truth at twenty-five, perhaps after graduating from college.
She had imagined having enough money to hire a lawyer before explaining everything.
She had even imagined contacting Abigail herself.
But she had never imagined Diamond entering Gold's school before either family knew what was happening.
"Sweetheart," Miriam began, "sometimes adults make choices because they're afraid."
Diamond frowned.
"What kind of choices?"
"Choices that seem necessary at the time."
"Mama, you're scaring me."
Miriam reached for her hand.
"I love you."
Diamond softened.
"I know."
"Nothing can ever change that."
"Okay."
"And everything I've done has been because I wanted you safe."
Diamond studied her mother's face.
"Did someone threaten us?"
Miriam hesitated.
Diamond felt a cold sensation in her stomach.
"Mama?"
Before Miriam could answer, someone knocked on the front door.
Three firm knocks.
Miriam froze.
Diamond turned.
"Are you expecting somebody?"
"No."
The knocking came again.
Miriam stood.
"Stay here."
She walked toward the door.
Diamond followed despite the instruction.
Through the curtains, she saw a black SUV parked beside the curb.
A man in a dark suit stood on their porch.
Miriam opened the door only a few inches.
"Can I help you?"
The man handed her an envelope.
"Mrs. Brooks, I'm delivering a formal notice on behalf of the Whitmore Family Foundation."
Miriam stared at it.
"What's this?"
"Please read it."
He returned to the SUV.
Diamond waited until the vehicle disappeared before speaking.
"What was that about?"
Miriam tore open the envelope.
Inside was a letter stating that Diamond's fellowship placement was being reviewed because of alleged irregularities in her financial disclosures.
The letter also warned that her admission could be suspended.
Diamond took the paper.
She read it twice.
Then she looked at Miriam.
"That's a lie."
Miriam nodded.
"I know."
"I submitted everything they asked for."
"I know, sweetheart."
Diamond felt anger replacing her confusion.
"Gold's father funds this school, doesn't he?"
Miriam said nothing.
Diamond held up the letter.
"Is this because she doesn't want me there?"
Miriam's eyes filled.
Diamond took a slow breath.
She remembered every morning she had walked to school because Miriam couldn't afford gasoline.
Every evening she had studied by the light of her phone when the electricity went out.
Every insult she had endured because of her skin.
Every time someone had told her she should be grateful for whatever little life gave her.
She folded the letter carefully.
"I'm not leaving."
Miriam looked frightened.
"Diamond—"
"I didn't steal that scholarship."
"I know."
"And I won't apologize for earning it."
Miriam covered her mouth.
Diamond stepped closer.
"Mama, whoever is doing this needs to understand something."
She placed the letter on the table.
"They don't get to decide whether I belong."
At the Whitmore mansion, Gold waited until Abigail went upstairs before entering her father's study.
Lawrence was reviewing documents behind his enormous mahogany desk.
"Dad?"
He barely glanced up.
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
Gold closed the door.
"Did I have a twin sister?"
Lawrence's pen stopped moving.
He slowly raised his head.
"Who told you that?"
"Mom."
Lawrence leaned back.
"I see."
Gold approached the desk.
"Her name was Diamond."
"Yes."
"And she died?"
Lawrence nodded.
"Unfortunately."
Gold watched his face.
"Then explain something."
She placed her phone in front of him.
On the screen was a photograph of Diamond Brooks.
"Why is she standing in my school?"
Lawrence stared at the image.
Gold's voice trembled.
"Dad, look me in the eyes."
He did.
And for the first time in her life, Gold saw something she had never associated with her father.
Fear.
She whispered:
May you like
"Is Diamond Brooks my sister?"
Lawrence reached across the desk and locked the study door.
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