CHAPTER 10 — THE MOTHER WHO BUILT THE LIE
CHAPTER 10 — THE MOTHER WHO BUILT THE LIE
The gunshot tore through the hallway.
For one terrible second, I couldn't understand what had happened.
My mother was standing in front of me.
Then she collapsed.
“Mom!”
I caught her before she hit the marble floor.
Blood spread across the front of her dress.
My hands shook violently.
“No.”
She looked up at me.
Her lips moved.
“Run.”
I pressed my hands against the wound.
“Don't talk.”
“Isabella…”
“Stay with me.”
Her fingers closed weakly around my wrist.
“He wasn't aiming at me.”
I looked toward the man holding the gun.
He was smiling.
“He was aiming at you.”
Another gunshot echoed.
The chandelier shattered.
Glass rained across the hallway.
I dragged my mother behind a stone column.
“Stay down!”
She gripped my sleeve.
“Basement.”
“What?”
“Damian.”
“And Rosalie?”
Her eyes widened.
“She isn't there.”
My heart stopped.
“Where is she?”
My mother looked toward the man.
“He already moved her.”
The stranger laughed.
“Your mother always was good at making people believe the wrong thing.”
I looked at him.
“Who are you?”
He lowered the gun.
“You've been asking that question for years.”
“I've never met you.”
“Oh, Isabella.”
His smile widened.
“You've seen me every day.”
THE FACE BEHIND THE NAME
He stepped into the light.
I finally saw the difference.
He looked like my father.
But he wasn't my father.
His eyes were slightly darker.
His hands were larger.
And there was a tiny crescent-shaped scar beneath his chin.
I remembered it.
A photograph.
My mother's old photographs.
A man standing beside her.
I had always assumed it was my father.
It wasn't.
I whispered:
“Edmund.”
He smiled.
“Yes.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“No.”
I stared at her.
“You know him.”
She didn't answer.
The man laughed.
“Of course she knows me.”
He stepped closer.
“I'm your grandfather.”
My body went cold.
“My grandfather died thirty-seven years ago.”
“That is what your family wanted you to believe.”
I looked at my mother.
“Is this true?”
She whispered:
“Yes.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“You're Edmund Montrose?”
“Yes.”
“The man who founded Montrose Global?”
“Yes.”
“The man whose death created the succession trust?”
“Yes.”
He smiled.
“The dead man who continued controlling everything from the shadows.”
THE NIGHT MY MOTHER DISAPPEARED
My mother slowly pushed herself upright.
The bleeding had slowed.
She looked at me.
“I wanted to tell you.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because every time I tried, someone disappeared.”
“Who?”
“Elena.”
I looked toward her.
“My sister?”
“She wasn't your biological sister.”
“I know.”
My mother shook her head.
“You don't know everything.”
She looked at Edmund.
“He found you when you were a baby.”
Edmund's smile disappeared.
“He found your father first.”
I frowned.
“My father?”
“My biological father.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Who was he?”
My mother hesitated.
Then she said:
“Alexander Montrose.”
Silence.
I stared at her.
“The man everyone said was my uncle?”
“Yes.”
The room seemed to disappear.
“Alexander was my father?”
“Yes.”
“And Edmund was…”
“My father.”
I looked at Edmund.
He was smiling.
“You see the problem now?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He answered:
“You are not simply the heir to Montrose.”
“You are the daughter of the man who was supposed to inherit it.”
THE SON WHO WAS ERASED
My mother explained what happened.
Edmund had two sons.
Alexander.
And another child.
Victor.
Alexander was brilliant.
Victor was ruthless.
When Edmund became ill, he intended Alexander to inherit Montrose Global.
But Victor wanted the company.
He began manipulating the family.
He created false accounts.
He sabotaged acquisitions.
He leaked confidential information.
He turned board members against Alexander.
Then one night, Alexander disappeared.
The official story was that he had died in an accident.
But he hadn't.
“He was murdered,” my mother whispered.
“By Victor?”
She nodded.
“Victor staged the accident.”
I looked at Edmund.
“And you?”
“I knew.”
My voice cracked.
“You knew your son was murdered.”
“Yes.”
“And you did nothing?”
“I did everything.”
“What does that mean?”
Edmund's expression hardened.
“I buried Victor's identity.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed him alive.”
I stared at him.
“You let everyone believe he was dead.”
“Yes.”
“You protected him.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“I trapped him.”
My mother shook her head.
“That wasn't enough.”
She looked at me.
“Victor had already created a network of people loyal to him.”
“Who?”
“Richard Cross.”
“Damian's father.”
“Yes.”
“Evelyn.”
“Yes.”
“Vanessa.”
“Yes.”
“And…”
She stopped.
“Your father.”
I froze.
“My father?”
She corrected herself.
“Your legal father.”
THE MAN WHO RAISED ME
I suddenly understood why my father had always been distant.
Why he had never spoken about my birth.
Why he never allowed me to see certain family records.
Why he always became uncomfortable whenever I asked about my mother.
He wasn't my biological father.
But he had raised me.
He had loved me.
And he had lied to me.
I looked at my mother.
“Who is he?”
“Daniel Montrose.”
My father's name.
I shook my head.
“Then why did you tell everyone he was my father?”
“Because Alexander's enemies were looking for you.”
“And Daniel protected me?”
“Yes.”
“Why did he lie?”
“Because he promised Alexander.”
My voice broke.
“Promised him what?”
“To keep you alive.”
THE DAY THEY TOOK ROSALIE
I thought of Rosalie.
My supposed niece.
The little girl whose existence had been hidden from me.
The child my mother had just claimed was mine.
“When did they take her?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Four years ago.”
I stared at her.
“That was before my marriage.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't I remember?”
“Because you weren't supposed to.”
I felt sick.
“You erased my memory?”
“No.”
She looked at Edmund.
“He did.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
Edmund answered.
“You were involved in an accident.”
“What accident?”
“A car crash.”
“When?”
“Three days after Rosalie was born.”
I stared at him.
“I don't remember.”
“You weren't supposed to.”
My mother began crying.
“You were unconscious for six days.”
“And Rosalie?”
“They told me she died.”
“But she didn't.”
“No.”
My mother wiped her tears.
“She was taken.”
“By Victor?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he discovered that she was your daughter.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Then why did Elena raise her?”
“Because Elena stole her back.”
My heart stopped.
“Elena knew?”
“She knew everything.”
“She lied to me.”
“She was trying to protect Rosalie.”
I looked at Edmund.
“And you?”
He smiled.
“I allowed all of it.”
THE LIE THAT BUILT MONTROSE
I stared at my grandfather.
“Why?”
“Because the only way to defeat Victor was to make him believe he had won.”
“What does that mean?”
Edmund pointed toward me.
“You.”
I frowned.
“You were the bait.”
My mother's face tightened.
“I hated him for it.”
“But you agreed.”
“I had no choice.”
Edmund continued.
“Your identity was hidden.”
“Your inheritance was frozen.”
“Your mother disappeared.”
“Elena became Rosalie's guardian.”
“Daniel became your father.”
“And you were raised believing you were an ordinary Montrose daughter.”
I whispered:
“While you built an empire around me.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Victor needed you.”
I stared.
“And you used me to trap him.”
“Yes.”
My voice trembled.
“You turned my entire life into a lie.”
Edmund didn't deny it.
“That lie kept you alive.”
I laughed bitterly.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“That lie kept your company alive.”
For the first time, his expression changed.
I had finally touched the truth.
THE CONTRACT WAS NEVER ABOUT MONEY
Edmund walked toward the table.
“The Cross contract wasn't designed to make Damian rich.”
“I know.”
“It was designed to keep Victor's network financially dependent.”
“And Damian?”
“An asset.”
I felt sick.
“Was he ever meant to love me?”
Edmund didn't answer.
I laughed.
“Of course.”
My marriage had been engineered.
My husband had been selected.
His family had been financed.
His company had been protected.
And every humiliation I endured had been part of a larger financial structure.
The woman I thought I was—
had never been allowed to exist.
Only the heir.
Only the key.
Only the asset.
My mother reached for my hand.
“I'm sorry.”
I looked at her.
“You should have told me.”
“I was afraid.”
“So was I.”
She cried.
“I thought if you hated me, you would stay away from the truth.”
I pulled my hand away.
“You don't get to decide what I can survive.”
She nodded.
“You're right.”
THE PHONE CALL
A phone rang.
Everyone froze.
It was Edmund's phone.
He answered.
“Speak.”
A voice came through.
I recognized it.
Damian.
“Edmund.”
Edmund's expression changed.
“Where is she?”
Damian said nothing.
“Where is Rosalie?”
A long pause.
Then:
“She's with me.”
My heart stopped.
“Put her on.”
Silence.
“Put my daughter on the phone.”
Damian's voice cracked.
“She knows you're her mother.”
I closed my eyes.
“Let me talk to her.”
A child's voice came through.
“Mom?”
My entire body went numb.
“Rosalie?”
“I'm scared.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at Edmund.
He had stopped smiling.
“Rosalie, listen to me.”
“Yes?”
“Stay with Damian.”
A pause.
“He's protecting me.”
I looked at my mother.
She was crying.
“Good.”
Then another voice came through.
A man's voice.
Victor.
“You've finally found each other.”
I tightened my grip on the phone.
“Where are you?”
“Everywhere.”
“What do you want?”
“You.”
“You already know where I am.”
“No.”
He laughed.
“I want the real Isabella.”
“What does that mean?”
“The woman whose DNA can unlock the entire Montrose trust.”
I looked at Edmund.
He nodded.
Victor continued.
“Bring me the original succession key.”
“No.”
“Then Rosalie dies.”
My blood froze.
I whispered:
“Don't touch her.”
Victor laughed.
“Your mother made that mistake once.”
THE SECOND CHILD
My mother suddenly stood.
“Victor.”
Her voice was strangely calm.
The room became silent.
Victor said nothing.
She continued.
“You know what I never told Isabella.”
Victor laughed.
“I know everything about you.”
“No.”
My mother looked at me.
“I never told her about the second child.”
Victor's laughter stopped.
My heart pounded.
“Second child?”
My mother nodded.
“There was another baby.”
I looked at her.
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Your twin.”
The room went silent.
I couldn't breathe.
“My twin?”
“Yes.”
“Where is she?”
My mother looked at Edmund.
He lowered his head.
Then she whispered:
“Victor took her.”
Victor's voice returned through the phone.
“She isn't with me.”
“Then where is she?”
Silence.
Then:
“You're standing in front of her.”
I froze.
Everyone turned toward the doorway.
A young woman stood there.
She looked exactly like me.
Same eyes.
Same face.
Same dark hair.
Same scar beneath the collarbone.
She stepped forward.
“I've been waiting for you.”
My mother collapsed into a chair.
Edmund whispered:
“Impossible.”
The woman smiled.
“Hello, Isabella.”
I couldn't speak.
She looked at Rosalie's photograph on the screen.
Then at me.
“I know where your daughter is.”
I finally found my voice.
“Who are you?”
She smiled.
“I'm your twin.”
Then she added:
“And I am the woman who sold your secret.”
My blood turned cold.
She lifted a small black device.
“The boardroom wasn't a trap for you.”
“It was a trap for me.”
The doors behind us slammed shut.
Every light went out.
May you like
And somewhere in the darkness—
Rosalie screamed.
