Chapter 2 - THE SECRET MY MOTHER TOOK TO HER GRAVE
I couldn't sleep.
Not because of Ryan.
Not even because of the wedding.
Because of the photograph Alexander had given me.
My mother was standing beside Rebecca Montgomery twenty-seven years earlier.
Both women were smiling.
But something about the picture bothered me.
They weren't standing like strangers.
They were standing like family.
I sat at my kitchen table at two in the morning while my children slept upstairs.
Alexander sat across from me.
“Tell me everything.”
He sighed.
“Your mother was named Elena Hart.”
“I know that.”
“You know what you were told.”
I stared at him.
“What wasn't I told?”
He placed an old leather folder on the table.
“When Elena was twenty-four, she became involved with the Montgomery family.”
My heart stopped.
“Ryan's family?”
“Yes.”
I opened the folder.
Inside were bank records.
Letters.
Photographs.
Legal documents.
And one handwritten note.
I recognized my mother's handwriting immediately.
If anything happens to me, protect my daughter from the Montgomerys.
My hands began to shake.
“What happened?”
Alexander leaned back.
“Your mother discovered something about the Montgomery family business.”
“What?”
“Fraud.”
I stared at him.
“That's impossible.”
“It's not.”
He explained that years ago, Ryan's father, Charles Montgomery, had been secretly transferring company assets into private accounts.
Rebecca knew.
My mother discovered it while working as a financial consultant.
“She threatened to expose him,” Alexander said.
“And they stopped her?”
“They tried.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Then why is she standing beside Rebecca?”
“Because Rebecca wasn't always his ally.”
That surprised me.
Alexander lowered his voice.
“Your mother and Rebecca were friends.”
I stared at him.
“They were close.”
“How close?”
He hesitated.
“Close enough that Rebecca trusted her with everything.”
I remembered Rebecca's cruelty.
Her comments about motherhood.
Her constant reminders that I was a failure.
Why?
Why had she hated me so much?
Alexander seemed to read my thoughts.
“Because she believed you knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That your mother left you an inheritance.”
I froze.
“What inheritance?”
He pushed another document toward me.
A trust agreement.
My name was written across the top.
Mariana Elena Hart.
My mother had created a trust before she disappeared.
The assets were substantial.
Property.
Stocks.
Investment accounts.
A private estate.
And one company.
Whitmore-Hart Holdings.
I stared at Alexander.
“You said my mother was missing.”
“She was.”
“Then how did she create this?”
“She created it before she vanished.”
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because someone buried it.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who?”
Alexander looked at me.
“Rebecca.”
I couldn't speak.
He continued.
“Your mother believed Rebecca could be trusted. That was her mistake.”
I looked at the children's photographs on my phone.
Three innocent faces.
Three lives that began because Ryan rejected me.
Suddenly the entire story felt different.
Ryan hadn't simply abandoned his wife.
He had unknowingly abandoned the children of the woman whose family had once been connected to his.
“Why did Rebecca want me gone?”
“Because she was afraid you'd discover your inheritance.”
“Why would she care?”
“Because the Montgomery family has been using assets that don't belong entirely to them.”
My blood ran cold.
“How much?”
Alexander gave me a look.
“Enough to destroy the family.”
Before I could answer, my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then a woman's voice.
“Stop digging.”
I stood.
“Who is this?”
“You don't know what you're dealing with.”
“Who are you?”
A pause.
Then:
“Ask Rebecca why your mother disappeared.”
The line went dead.
I looked at Alexander.
He was already standing.
“We need to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever called you knows where you live.”
He grabbed his coat.
I ran upstairs.
The children were asleep.
I looked at their peaceful faces.
And suddenly, fear became something different.
It became determination.
No one was going to touch my children.
Not Ryan.
Not Rebecca.
Not anyone.
I packed a small bag.
As we walked outside, I noticed a black sedan parked across the street.
The headlights were off.
Alexander saw it too.
“Get in.”
We drove away.
Five minutes later, the sedan followed.
Alexander took a different road.
It followed.
He turned again.
Still there.
My heart pounded.
“Who are they?”
“I don't know.”
“You know more than you're telling me.”
He was silent.
Then finally said:
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
He looked at me through the mirror.
“Your mother didn't disappear.”
My blood turned cold.
“She was taken.”
“Taken by whom?”
May you like
Alexander's eyes hardened.
“The last person you would expect.”
