Chapter 6 - The Truth About My Mother
My mother had died when I was seven.
That was what I had always believed.
A sudden illness.
A funeral.
A lifetime of photographs.
A childhood memory of her perfume.
But the photograph in my hand had been taken three years after her supposed death.
The woman standing beside my father was unmistakably her.
I called Daniel.
Then Ethan.
Both arrived within twenty minutes.
Daniel stared at the photograph.
“That's Mom.”
Ethan turned it over.
“Where did you find it?”
“On my pillow.”
“Who had access to the house?”
“Everyone.”
He studied the handwriting.
“It might be Marcus.”
“No.”
I pointed to the bottom.
A second line.
Meet me at St. Mary's Cemetery. Midnight.
No police.
No Ethan.
Come alone.
Ethan shook his head.
“Absolutely not.”
“You knew I was going to say that.”
“Yes.”
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent this knows things Marcus shouldn't know.”
Daniel stepped in.
“He's right.”
I looked at both of them.
Then I said,
“Fine.”
They smiled.
“I didn't finish,” I added.
“You're coming.”
Ethan laughed.
“That sounds more like you.”
At midnight, we entered the cemetery together.
The wind was cold.
Fog hung between the stones.
A woman stood beneath a tree.
She turned.
I stopped breathing.
It was my mother.
Older.
But alive.
“Claire.”
I couldn't move.
She crossed the distance between us.
I slapped her.
The sound echoed through the cemetery.
She didn't react.
“I deserved that.”
“You're dead.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you were dead.”
“I was protecting you.”
“Everyone says that.”
She cried.
“I tried to come back.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because Victor threatened you.”
“My father knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“He was going to.”
“What happened?”
“He was killed.”
My chest tightened.
“By whom?”
She looked at Ethan.
Then Daniel.
“Richard.”
My father's brother.
Marcus's father.
The true beginning of everything.
She explained.
Richard had partnered with Victor.
He had poisoned my father.
He had framed innocent people.
And he had planned to use Marcus as the heir.
But Marcus had become worse than Richard expected.
“He learned from his father,” my mother said.
“Why didn't you take Marcus to the police?”
“Because Richard controlled the police.”
Ethan nodded.
“That explains why every old investigation disappeared.”
My mother looked at him.
“You know more than I expected.”
“I had to.”
She turned to me.
“I'm sorry.”
I wanted to hate her.
But she was my mother.
The child inside me wanted to run into her arms.
The woman I had become wanted answers.
“Where were you all these years?”
“I lived under another name.”
“Why?”
“To watch over you.”
“Then why let me marry Marcus?”
She closed her eyes.
“I didn't know what he had become.”
“That's not enough.”
“I know.”
She handed me a folder.
“Your father left this.”
Inside was his final letter.
He had written it the week before his death.
If you are reading this, Isabella survived.
Protect our daughter from Richard.
And never trust the Whitmore trust.
I looked at Ethan.
“The trust.”
“Yes,” he said.
“What's wrong with it?”
“Your father's last asset wasn't money.”
I frowned.
“It was evidence.”
He explained.
My father had hidden copies of financial records inside the trust.
Whoever legally controlled the trust controlled the evidence.
Marcus had spent years trying to access it.
My marriage had given him a legal route.
But if I divorced him, he lost access.
That's why he had delayed.
That's why he needed me dead.
I looked at my mother.
“Why send me back here now?”
“Because Richard isn't dead.”
Ethan's head snapped up.
“What?”
“He's been hiding.”
“Where?”
She whispered,
“Inside your company.”
A board member.
A trusted advisor.
Someone who had been helping Marcus.
Daniel froze.
“Who?”
My mother looked at him.
“Your uncle.”
I felt the world collapse.
Richard Whitmore was alive.
And he was already inside the company.
We returned to the city.
The boardroom was empty.
Except for one person.
An elderly man stood beside the windows.
He turned.
“Claire.”
I knew him.
William Reed.
My father's oldest financial advisor.
The man who had held me at my father's funeral.
The man who had advised me through college.
My father's closest friend.
He smiled.
“I was wondering when you'd discover the truth.”
Ethan raised his gun.
William laughed.
“Don't.”
“Who are you?”
“You know.”
He removed his glasses.
A scar crossed his cheek.
William Reed was a false name.
“Richard.”
Daniel stepped forward.
“You're supposed to be dead.”
“So is your father.”
I felt sick.
“You worked for my family.”
“I owned your family.”
He admitted everything.
He had built the financial network.
Victor was his partner.
Marcus was his heir.
Grace was disposable.
Daniel was a problem.
And I was the final key.
“You killed my father.”
“Yes.”
“My mother?”
“I tried.”
“You failed.”
“Yes.”
Richard smiled.
“That was unfortunate.”
Ethan stepped forward.
“You're under arrest.”
Richard laughed.
“You think this is your building?”
The doors locked.
Gas filled the room.
I covered my mouth.
Ethan grabbed me.
“Window!”
He smashed the glass.
We climbed onto the exterior balcony.
Daniel followed.
The building alarms screamed.
We escaped through a maintenance stairwell.
Richard was gone.
But not before leaving one final message on the conference screen.
MIDNIGHT TOMORROW.
BRING THE TRUST.
OR YOUR MOTHER DIES.
My mother was gone.
May you like
Richard had taken her.
And we had less than twenty-four hours.
