Chapter 6 6

"Ali, move!" Carroll shouted. "She's dangerous!"

"The only dangerous person here is the liar standing behind you," Ali said, pointing at Hoover.

Mrs. Hoover recoiled. "I... I am a loyal servant of this family!"

"Stalking?" George Mckay stepped up. He pulled a thick manila envelope from his jacket. "Is that why you received a fifty-thousand-dollar wire transfer from an offshore account on the day my sister was taken?"

He ripped the envelope open.

"These are phone records and bank statements," George said, his voice booming. "Timestamped. An hour after you got the money, you called in sick and left a ten-year-old girl unsupervised in a public park. That wasn't stalking. That was a payoff."

He threw the documents onto the floor. They scattered like leaves.

"My mother," George continued, pointing at Denise, "has spent every day since then searching. We're here because we finally found you."

"Lies!" Hoover shrieked. "He's making it up! She's some grifter trying to extort us!"

"Is that so?" Ali asked.

She turned to Denise. "How can you prove I'm your daughter?"

Denise was trembling, wiping tears from her face. "You... you have a mark. A birthmark. On your left shoulder. It looks like a red butterfly."

Carroll froze. "I... I never saw a mark."

Of course she hadn't. Nannies bathed her. Nannies dressed her. Carroll only saw her when she was presented for photos.

But Ali knew.

"Jazmyne," Isadore said. He didn't need to shout.

Jazmyne stepped forward. She knew exactly what to do.

She reached for the shoulder of Ali's ruined dress-the side she had slashed open with the shears. She pulled the fabric down a few inches.

There, stark against Ali's pale skin, was the birthmark. A distinct, crimson butterfly.

A collective gasp swept through the room.

"Oh my god," Carroll whispered. She looked at Ali, really looked at her, and realized she was looking at a stranger.

"That's my daughter," Denise wept. "That's my Ali."

Ali pulled her dress back up. She turned to Mrs. Hoover.

"You said she was a stalker," Ali said, her voice cold. "You said she was obsessed. If she was a stranger, how would she know about a birthmark that is usually covered by clothes?"

Hoover opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

"The only way she would know," Ali continued, stepping closer to the housekeeper, "is if she gave birth to me. And the only reason you are lying is because you took a bribe to look the other way during my kidnapping. When I was returned, traumatized and with my memory fractured, you fed my parents a story to cover your tracks and keep your job."

The logic was ironclad.

Senator Ellwood looked at the bank statements on the floor, then at Hoover's terrified face. He realized the liability. He realized the scandal waiting to happen.

He turned purple.

"You..." Ellwood pointed a shaking finger at Hoover. "You incompetent... You lied to me? For all these years?"

"Senator, please!" Hoover fell to her knees. "I was scared! They threatened me!"

"Get her out of my sight!" Ellwood roared. "I'm pressing charges! Fraud! Negligence! Conspiracy to kidnap!"

Security grabbed Hoover. She was dragged away, sobbing, following the same path Catarina had taken.

The ballroom was chaotic. The Lancaster family image was in tatters.

Ali stood in the center of the storm, looking at Denise.

"Mom," she said.

It felt strange on her tongue. But it felt right.

Denise rushed forward and hugged her. She smelled of cheap soap and rain, but it was the warmest hug Ali had ever felt.

Isadore watched them from the side. He lit a cigarette, ignoring the 'No Smoking' signs.

He caught Ali's eye through the smoke. He didn't smile, but he dipped his head in a small, acknowledging nod.

Well played, Little Fish, his eyes seemed to say.