CHAPTER 10 — THE WOMAN HE TRIED TO ERASE
CHAPTER 10 — THE WOMAN HE TRIED TO ERASE
The door slammed somewhere below us.
My father immediately reached for the gun hidden beneath his jacket.
"Stay here."
"No."
"Olivia."
"I am done staying behind locked doors while everyone else decides what I am allowed to know."
He stared at me.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then footsteps echoed through the hallway.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming closer.
Russell appeared at the doorway.
"Mr. Hartwell."
Arthur turned.
"What happened?"
"Security lost power on three floors."
"How?"
"We don't know."
Russell looked at me.
"Someone accessed the building's internal network."
Arthur's expression hardened.
"Blackridge?"
"No."
Russell paused.
"Something older."
I felt a chill.
"Older than Blackridge?"
Russell nodded.
"The system access code belongs to Hartwell's original security architecture."
My father went completely still.
"That code was retired twenty-three years ago."
"Apparently not."
Then the lights came back.
One by one.
The hallway.
The elevator.
The office.
And finally the screen behind us.
A single message appeared.
SHE IS NOT DEAD.
I stared at it.
My father whispered:
"Michael."
We searched every security feed.
Nothing.
No intruder.
No forced doors.
No cameras disabled.
Whoever had entered the system had never physically entered the building.
They had simply walked through the network like they owned it.
Because, apparently, they did.
Russell brought up the access logs.
"There."
A code appeared.
My father stared at it.
"That's impossible."
I looked at him.
"What?"
"That's my brother's access code."
"Michael?"
"Yes."
"But you said he died."
Arthur didn't answer.
"Where did he die?"
"At the old Hartwell estate."
"When?"
"Twenty years ago."
"Who identified the body?"
His silence was answer enough.
"Nobody."
I stared at him.
"You never saw the body?"
"No."
"Then how did you know he was dead?"
"Because I received a photograph."
"Of a burned vehicle."
"Yes."
"With no body."
Arthur looked away.
"And you believed it?"
"I had no reason not to."
I stepped closer.
"Twenty years later, my mother is alive."
"Cross is alive."
"Daniel is alive."
"Charles is working for someone."
"And now Michael might be alive."
I shook my head.
"How many people in this family have supposedly died?"
Arthur's expression hardened.
"Too many."
At 4:30 a.m., Russell brought me a file.
It was old.
The edges were yellow.
The Hartwell Group logo on the cover had been replaced by a faded handwritten label.
PROJECT MERIDIAN
I opened it.
Inside were photographs.
My mother.
My father.
Daniel.
Michael.
And another man.
A man I had never seen before.
His face had been blacked out.
"Who is this?"
Russell hesitated.
"Your father won't discuss him."
"Who is he?"
"I don't know."
"You expect me to believe that?"
Russell looked at me.
"I was twenty-nine when this happened."
"What happened?"
"The Hartwell family split."
"Why?"
"Money."
I frowned.
"That's what everyone says."
Russell shook his head.
"It wasn't money."
"What was it?"
"Control."
He pointed at the photograph.
"Your grandfather had built Hartwell around one principle."
"Family control."
"Your father believed the company should grow."
"Daniel believed it should remain private."
"Michael believed it should be sold."
"And your mother?"
"Your mother believed all three of them were wrong."
"What did she want?"
Russell looked at me.
"She wanted Hartwell to belong to you."
I froze.
"To me?"
"Yes."
"But I was a child."
"Exactly."
Russell turned the page.
There was a handwritten note.
I recognized my mother's handwriting.
If they ever fight over the company, give it to Olivia.
My heart tightened.
"She planned this?"
"She planned everything."
Then I found something else.
A second note.
This one was written beneath my mother's signature.
Michael knows where the original trust is hidden.
I looked at Russell.
"Where?"
He shook his head.
"Nobody knows."
"But my mother did."
"Yes."
"And Michael."
"Yes."
"Which means the person controlling all of this needs both of them."
Russell nodded.
"Or one of them."
I closed the file.
"Take me to the old estate."
His expression changed.
"Absolutely not."
"Why?"
"Because that's where Michael supposedly died."
"Exactly."
We left before sunrise.
My father refused to let me go alone.
The old Hartwell estate was two hours outside Chicago.
The house had been abandoned for twenty years.
Trees had grown over the driveway.
The stone walls were covered in ivy.
Windows were boarded.
But when we arrived, I noticed something strange.
Fresh tire tracks.
Russell saw them too.
He drew his weapon.
"Someone has been here."
Arthur stepped out of the vehicle.
"Stay close."
We entered through the side door.
Dust covered the floor.
But beneath the dust were footprints.
Recent ones.
I followed them.
They led toward the library.
The room looked exactly as I remembered.
My grandfather's shelves.
My mother's desk.
The fireplace.
A painting of the family above the mantel.
I stopped.
There was something wrong with it.
"Russell."
He looked at the painting.
"The frame."
"What?"
"It's been moved."
He touched the edge.
The frame opened.
Behind it was a hidden compartment.
Inside was a small metal box.
Arthur stared at it.
"Sarah."
I opened it.
Inside was a cassette tape.
A key.
And a letter.
The letter had my name on it.
My hands shook as I opened it.
Dear Olivia,
If you're reading this, then everything I feared has happened.
Your father has lied to you.
I have lied to you.
Daniel has lied to you.
Michael has lied to you.
Even the people who claim to love you may have lied to you.
But I need you to understand one thing.
None of those lies began with them.
They began with your grandfather.
I looked at Arthur.
He closed his eyes.
I continued reading.
Thomas Hartwell created the first version of Elias Vane.
He believed control was the only way to protect a family.
He was wrong.
But when I tried to expose him, he gave me a choice.
Leave Olivia with Arthur and disappear.
Or watch my daughter become the next target.
My vision blurred.
I chose to disappear.
I couldn't breathe.
My mother had chosen to leave me.
Not because she didn't love me.
Because she did.
The letter continued.
Arthur believed I was dead.
I allowed him to believe it.
He needed to protect you.
And I needed to protect him.
I looked at my father.
He was crying silently.
The letter continued.
But there is one person Arthur never knew about.
My heart stopped.
The woman who helped me escape.
The woman who carried the evidence.
The woman Elias Vane tried to erase.
Then the final line:
Her name is Evelyn Hart.
I looked at Russell.
"Who is Evelyn?"
He stared at the paper.
"I don't know."
Arthur suddenly whispered:
"I do."
We turned toward him.
"Who?"
Arthur's face had gone pale.
"Evelyn was your mother's sister."
I stared.
"My aunt?"
"Yes."
"Why have I never heard of her?"
"Because Thomas erased her."
"Why?"
"She discovered the truth."
"What truth?"
Arthur looked toward the hidden compartment.
"That Sarah wasn't the only person Thomas imprisoned."
My blood ran cold.
"Who else?"
Arthur didn't answer.
Then the cassette player clicked.
The tape began playing.
My mother's voice filled the library.
"If this recording is playing, Olivia, then you're old enough to know."
"Your aunt Evelyn survived."
"But she paid a terrible price."
I closed my eyes.
"She was taken by Thomas."
"Not because she betrayed him."
"Because she refused to betray me."
My mother's voice cracked.
"She helped me escape."
"She gave me a place to hide."
"And she kept the one thing Thomas feared."
The tape stopped.
I looked at Arthur.
"What?"
He pointed toward the metal box.
"The key."
I picked it up.
It was engraved with one word:
EVELYN.
A noise came from upstairs.
Footsteps.
Arthur raised his gun.
"Someone's here."
We turned toward the staircase.
A woman appeared.
She was elderly.
Thin.
Silver-haired.
She wore a dark coat.
Her face was pale.
But her eyes—
They were exactly like my mother's.
She stared at me.
"Olivia."
I couldn't move.
"Who are you?"
She whispered:
"Evelyn."
She didn't run.
She didn't scream.
She simply walked downstairs.
Arthur lowered his weapon.
"Where have you been?"
Evelyn looked at him.
"Hiding."
"For twenty years?"
"Twenty-three."
"Why?"
"Because Thomas wanted me dead."
I stepped forward.
"You know my mother."
Evelyn looked at me.
"I helped raise her."
"Where is she?"
Evelyn's expression softened.
"Alive."
"Where?"
"Not far."
My heart pounded.
"Take me to her."
Evelyn shook her head.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because if you see Sarah before you understand the truth, you will make the same mistake she did."
"What mistake?"
"Trusting the wrong man."
I felt frustration rising.
"Everyone keeps telling me not to trust people."
"Then tell me who I can trust."
Evelyn looked at Arthur.
He said nothing.
She looked at Russell.
Then back at me.
"No one."
My hands curled into fists.
"I'm tired of secrets."
"So am I."
She reached into her coat.
Then placed a photograph on the table.
I stared at it.
My mother.
Evelyn.
Arthur.
Daniel.
Michael.
And Thomas.
But there was another person standing beside them.
A young woman.
I looked at her face.
My breath caught.
I knew her.
I had seen her in photographs.
At Hartwell charity events.
At business dinners.
At my wedding.
She had always been introduced as one of my father's longtime advisers.
"That's impossible."
Evelyn nodded.
"She has been inside Hartwell for twenty-three years."
"Who is she?"
Evelyn looked at me.
"Marianne Vale."
My stomach dropped.
Kendra's mother.
The woman who had quietly advised Victor's career.
The woman who had introduced Kendra to him.
The woman who had once hugged me and called me family.
I stared at the photograph.
"She's part of Elias Vane."
Evelyn nodded.
"She's more than that."
"Then what is she?"
Evelyn's voice became quiet.
"She's the woman who erased your mother."
We left the estate immediately.
But before we could reach the car, Evelyn grabbed my wrist.
"Wait."
"What?"
She looked at Arthur.
"Your brother is alive."
Arthur went completely still.
"Michael?"
Evelyn nodded.
"Where?"
"With Sarah."
My heart raced.
"Take us to them."
Evelyn shook her head.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because Michael isn't your enemy."
"Then why is he hiding?"
"Because he's protecting Sarah."
"From whom?"
Evelyn looked at me.
"From the woman who believes she owns you."
"Marianne?"
"No."
"Then who?"
Evelyn's face changed.
"The woman you call your mother."
I froze.
"What?"
"Sarah isn't the prisoner."
"What are you saying?"
Evelyn stepped closer.
"Your mother made a deal."
"With whom?"
"Thomas."
"Why?"
"To keep you alive."
I stared at her.
"What deal?"
Evelyn whispered:
"Sarah agreed to disappear."
"In exchange, Thomas promised he would never touch you."
"But there was one condition."
"What?"
"Sarah had to help him build Elias Vane."
I couldn't breathe.
"My mother helped him?"
"Yes."
"No."
"She did."
"She had no choice."
"Maybe."
Evelyn looked at me sadly.
"But choices still have consequences."
Arthur stepped forward.
"Where is Sarah?"
Evelyn looked toward the horizon.
"At the place where Elias Vane began."
"Where?"
She pointed toward the old Hartwell estate.
"The underground vault."
My father froze.
"The vault was destroyed."
Evelyn shook her head.
"No."
She looked at me.
"It was never destroyed."
"Your grandfather built it beneath the house."
"And inside it is the original Hartwell Trust."
I stared at her.
"The trust that can save Hartwell."
"Yes."
"And my mother?"
Evelyn's voice dropped.
"She's guarding it."
That night, we returned to the estate.
The vault entrance was hidden beneath the library floor.
The key fit.
A section of stone moved.
Cold air rose from below.
Arthur stared into the darkness.
"I thought this place was sealed."
Evelyn looked at him.
"Thomas never sealed it."
"Why?"
"Because he knew one day Olivia would come."
We descended.
The staircase seemed endless.
At the bottom was a steel door.
No lock.
No keypad.
Only a fingerprint scanner.
I placed my hand against it.
The door opened.
Inside was a room filled with documents.
Bank records.
Photographs.
Contracts.
Trust agreements.
And hundreds of files bearing one name.
ELIAS VANE.
But there was one chair in the center of the room.
And on it was a photograph.
My mother.
She was smiling.
Behind her stood a man.
I stepped closer.
My heart stopped.
It was Michael.
Alive.
And beside him—
was Thomas Hartwell.
My grandfather.
Older.
Alive.
And looking directly at the camera.
On the back of the photograph were five words:
Olivia, come alone.
I turned toward Arthur.
"Dad."
He looked at the photograph.
His face went white.
Then a voice came from the darkness behind us.
"You shouldn't have brought him."
I turned.
My mother stood there.
Alive.
Tears filled her eyes.
She looked at me.
"Olivia."
I couldn't speak.
She took one step forward.
Then another.
And finally whispered:
"My little girl."
I ran toward her.
But before I reached her, a gunshot exploded through the vault.
My mother collapsed.
And behind her stood the man I thought was dead.
Michael Hartwell.
He lowered the gun.
Then looked at Arthur.
"I'm sorry."
Arthur stared at his brother.
"Why?"
Michael's voice broke.
"Because she was never the target."
May you like
He looked at me.
"You were."
