Chapter 6 — His Mother’s Secret
Chapter 6 — His Mother’s Secret
Margaret's final words echoed in my head long after the call ended.
“Your father isn't the person you should be afraid of.”
The room went silent.
Ryan stared at me.
Adrian stood near the door, his expression unreadable.
I slowly lowered my phone.
“What did she mean?”
Neither man answered.
I looked at Adrian.
“You said my father was hiding.”
“Yes.”
“You said Margaret tried to kill you.”
“Yes.”
“Now she tells me to run from my own father.”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
“She knows something we don't.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No. She knows exactly what she's doing.”
He turned toward his brother.
“You've been alive all these years. You've been watching us. Why didn't you ever come back?”
Adrian looked at him.
“Because I was told your mother would kill me.”
“You believed her?”
“I saw what she did.”
Ryan stepped closer.
“What did she do?”
Adrian didn't answer.
I stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Both men looked at me.
“If we're going to survive the next twenty-four hours, we stop hiding things.”
I looked at Adrian.
“You know something about Margaret.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
He hesitated.
Finally, he said:
“Margaret Anderson isn't her real name.”
Ryan froze.
“What?”
Adrian looked at me.
“And your mother-in-law isn't the woman she claimed to be.”
The Woman Before Margaret
We returned to the mansion before dawn.
I refused to let Margaret know where Adrian was.
If she was truly afraid of him, I needed that advantage.
Adrian stayed in my father's study.
Ryan and I went through old records.
Birth certificates.
Marriage licenses.
Corporate registrations.
Property deeds.
Every document connected to Margaret.
And every time, the same name appeared.
Margaret Anderson.
It looked legitimate.
Too legitimate.
I turned to Adrian.
“How do you know it's fake?”
“I saw the original.”
“Where?”
“Before I disappeared.”
“When?”
“The year your father died.”
I frowned.
“What did you see?”
“A passport.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out an old photograph.
A woman stood beside a much younger version of Margaret.
Same face.
But different hair.
Different clothes.
And another name.
Elena Marlowe.
I stared.
“Who is Elena Marlowe?”
Adrian's expression hardened.
“Your father's first wife.”
I looked at Ryan.
His face had gone completely white.
“My father was married before Mom?”
“Yes.”
Ryan shook his head.
“That isn't possible.”
“It is.”
“My mother would have told me.”
Adrian laughed bitterly.
“Your mother has spent twenty years making sure you knew only what she wanted you to know.”
Ryan sat down.
I studied the photograph.
The woman beside Margaret looked exactly like her.
Twins?
Sisters?
I asked:
“Who is the other woman?”
Adrian answered:
“Margaret.”
I frowned.
“So Elena and Margaret were sisters?”
“No.”
He pointed at the woman.
“That is Margaret.”
My blood ran cold.
“Then who was Elena?”
Adrian looked at me.
“She was the woman Margaret replaced.”
The story was worse than I imagined.
Twenty-three years earlier, Ryan's father, Richard Anderson, had married Elena Marlowe.
Elena came from a powerful financial family.
She had inherited a significant portfolio and several companies.
The marriage looked perfect from the outside.
But Elena discovered something.
Richard wasn't merely a businessman.
He was involved in an underground financial network.
Guardian.
The same network my father had later inherited.
Elena wanted out.
Richard wouldn't let her go.
Then Margaret appeared.
She was Elena's personal assistant.
And according to Adrian, Margaret became obsessed with her employer's life.
Her clothes.
Her husband.
Her money.
Her identity.
“That's impossible,” Ryan said.
Adrian looked at him.
“Your mother wanted everything Elena had.”
“But why?”
“Because Elena had something Richard desperately wanted.”
“What?”
“Control of Guardian.”
I looked at the documents.
“And Margaret took it?”
“Not immediately.”
Adrian pulled another photograph from his coat.
It showed Elena standing beside my father.
My father looked worried.
Elena looked terrified.
On the back was a date.
October 14.
Eight years before I married Ryan.
I stared at the picture.
“What was happening here?”
Adrian answered:
“Elena contacted your father.”
“Why?”
“She wanted his help escaping Richard.”
My heart tightened.
“Did he help her?”
“He tried.”
“And Margaret?”
“She found out.”
The Night Everything Changed
According to Adrian, Elena planned to leave the country.
She had gathered evidence against Richard.
Bank records.
Secret accounts.
Names.
Payments.
Everything.
She planned to give the evidence to my father.
But the night before she could—
she disappeared.
Her car was found abandoned.
Her passport was missing.
Her bank accounts were emptied.
And Margaret vanished too.
Three weeks later, Margaret returned.
With a new identity.
As Richard Anderson's wife.
Ryan's mother.
I stared at Adrian.
“How?”
“She told everyone Elena had died.”
“But if Margaret was the assistant…”
“She convinced people she was Elena.”
I shook my head.
“No one noticed?”
“She had plastic surgery.”
Ryan looked sick.
“She stole another woman's identity.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't my father stop her?”
Adrian's expression changed.
“He tried.”
“And?”
“Margaret threatened him.”
“With what?”
“With you.”
Ryan went silent.
Adrian continued.
“She told your father that if he exposed her, Ryan would disappear.”
I looked at Ryan.
He was barely breathing.
“How old were you?”
“Four.”
Adrian nodded.
“She raised you under Elena's identity.”
Ryan whispered:
“So my mother wasn't my father's original wife.”
“No.”
“And she wasn't even supposed to be his wife.”
“No.”
“Then who was she?”
Adrian looked at me.
“A woman who knew where every body was buried.”
I spent the next several hours digging through public records.
Eventually, I found something.
A marriage certificate.
Richard Anderson.
Elena Marlowe.
Then another.
Richard Anderson.
Margaret Vale.
The second marriage had occurred only eleven months after Elena's disappearance.
Margaret Vale.
I stared at the surname.
“Vale.”
Adrian nodded.
“Exactly.”
“Eleanor Vale.”
His face changed.
I whispered:
“Margaret and Eleanor are related.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Eleanor was Margaret's daughter.”
The room went silent.
Ryan looked at me.
“My mother had a daughter?”
“Apparently.”
Adrian looked toward the window.
“Eleanor was the child Margaret had before she married Richard.”
I remembered the mysterious woman.
The supposed dead woman.
The person who hired Vanessa.
The woman who knew my father.
I whispered:
“So Eleanor isn't dead.”
Adrian shook his head.
“No.”
“Then who died twelve years ago?”
“Someone else.”
I stared.
“Whose body?”
“We don't know.”
Ryan suddenly stood.
“Where is she?”
Adrian looked at him.
“Who?”
“Eleanor.”
“I don't know.”
“You said she's alive.”
“I said the woman using her identity is alive.”
Ryan frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Adrian stepped closer.
“Because Eleanor herself disappeared years ago.”
I felt a chill.
“So the woman who hired Vanessa isn't necessarily Eleanor.”
“No.”
“Then who is she?”
Adrian's eyes moved toward the photograph.
“Someone pretending to be her.”
Margaret's Confession
We found Margaret in the dining room.
She looked exhausted.
I placed the photograph on the table.
“Who is Elena Marlowe?”
Margaret stared at it.
Then closed her eyes.
“I was wondering when you'd find that.”
Ryan stepped forward.
“Tell me the truth.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You're not ready.”
“I've been lied to my entire life.”
“Yes.”
“By you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked at me.
“Because I had no choice.”
I laughed.
“That's what everyone says.”
Margaret's eyes filled with tears.
“I wasn't supposed to marry Richard.”
“Then why did you?”
“Because Elena was dying.”
Ryan frowned.
“What?”
Margaret looked down.
“Elena had been poisoned.”
Silence.
“By whom?” I asked.
“Richard.”
Ryan stared at her.
“Why would Dad poison his own wife?”
“Because she was going to expose him.”
Margaret swallowed.
“I tried to save her.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“She died in my arms.”
I stared at her.
“You stole her identity after she died.”
“No.”
Margaret shook her head.
“I stole it before she died.”
That sentence changed everything.
“I needed access to her accounts.”
“To escape?”
“To protect you.”
She looked at Ryan.
“Richard wanted to kill you too.”
Ryan's face hardened.
“Why?”
“Because he believed you weren't his son.”
Silence.
Adrian stepped forward.
“He suspected you were mine.”
Ryan turned.
“What?”
Adrian shook his head.
“No.”
Margaret looked at him.
“You know that's not true.”
“I know.”
Ryan looked between them.
“Then what is the truth?”
Margaret whispered:
“Richard wasn't your biological father.”
I froze.
Ryan stopped breathing.
Margaret continued.
“Your father was someone else.”
“Who?”
She looked at Adrian.
And said:
“Your uncle.”
Silence.
Adrian's expression changed.
“My brother?”
Margaret nodded.
“Before Richard married Elena, he had a younger brother.”
“Who?”
“Daniel.”
Adrian's face went pale.
“He died.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Margaret looked at me.
“Your father killed him.”
My stomach dropped.
Ryan stepped backward.
“This is insane.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
She looked at him.
“Your entire life was built on a lie.”
Then the front door slammed.
Everyone turned.
A man walked into the mansion.
Old.
Thin.
His face was scarred.
I recognized him immediately.
The man from the photograph.
The man with the silver watch.
The man Vanessa had seen outside her apartment.
He looked at Margaret.
“Enough.”
Margaret went white.
Ryan stared at him.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“I think you know.”
Adrian moved in front of me.
The stranger looked at him.
“You survived.”
Adrian's voice was cold.
“You tried to kill me.”
The man smiled.
“I tried to protect Margaret.”
Ryan looked at his mother.
“Who is he?”
Margaret began shaking.
The stranger answered for her.
“My name is Daniel Vale.”
Adrian froze.
“Daniel…”
Daniel smiled.
“Your father wasn't the only one who survived.”
I looked at Margaret.
Then at Daniel.
Then at Ryan.
And suddenly I understood why Margaret had been so afraid.
Why she had needed Vanessa.
Why she wanted me out before our seventh anniversary.
Why the inheritance had been hidden.
Because the person standing in my mansion wasn't simply Margaret's accomplice.
He was the missing piece of the family history.
And he had come back for the inheritance.
Daniel looked directly at me.
“You have twenty-four hours.”
“For what?”
“To decide whether you want the truth…”
He smiled.
“…or your husband.”
Then he placed a photograph on the table.
I picked it up.
My father was standing beside a woman.
But this time, the woman wasn't Elena.
It was my mother.
And between them stood a young boy.
Ryan.
On the back, my father's handwriting said:
THE CHILD WAS NEVER MARGARET'S.
I looked at Ryan.
He stared at the photograph in horror.
May you like
And Margaret finally whispered:
“Now you know why I could never let you reach the seventh anniversary.”
