Chapter 3 — The Woman My Mother Hired
Chapter 3 — The Woman My Mother Hired
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Not me.
Not Nathan.
Not David.
Even Olivia seemed frozen.
I kept staring at David.
“Say that again.”
He didn't blink.
“Michael Harper isn't your biological father.”
I laughed.
It was a terrible sound.
“No.”
David took one step toward me.
“Emma—”
“No.”
I raised my hand.
“Don't.”
My entire body was shaking.
“You don't get to walk into my life after twenty-nine years and tell me my father isn't my father.”
“I didn't say he wasn't your father.”
“You said he isn't my biological father.”
“Yes.”
“Then who is?”
David's expression changed.
“That is the question your mother spent twenty-nine years making sure you never asked.”
I turned toward Nathan.
He looked away.
That hurt more than David's words.
“You knew.”
Nathan swallowed.
“I knew there was a secret.”
“You knew enough.”
“I didn't know the whole truth.”
“Did you know Michael wasn't my biological father?”
He hesitated.
That was enough.
I stepped backward.
“You did.”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“I found out three years ago.”
Three years.
I remembered that period.
Nathan had suddenly become obsessed with our finances.
He had started asking questions about my family.
About my grandfather.
About my mother's old friends.
I had thought he was trying to understand my life.
He had been investigating me.
I looked at David.
“You hired him.”
“Yes.”
“To marry me.”
“Yes.”
“To watch me.”
“Yes.”
“To get access to the Trust.”
David nodded.
“Yes.”
“And my mother knew?”
He didn't answer.
I turned toward the road.
A black sedan pulled up.
The rear door opened.
My mother stepped out.
She looked older than she had that morning.
Her face was pale.
Her hands were trembling.
She looked at me.
Then at David.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Finally, she whispered:
“You found him.”
I stared at her.
“You knew.”
She closed her eyes.
“I knew he would come back eventually.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“You're my daughter.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
“I have been trying to protect you.”
“Stop saying that.”
My voice cracked.
“Everyone keeps using that word to excuse lying to me.”
My mother flinched.
David smiled bitterly.
“She never changes.”
My mother looked at him.
“You should have stayed dead.”
David's expression hardened.
“And you should have told her the truth twenty years ago.”
My mother stepped toward me.
“Emma, please.”
I moved away.
“No.”
She stopped.
“Who is my father?”
Her lips trembled.
Before she could answer, David said:
“Not here.”
I looked at him.
“You don't get to decide where I hear the truth.”
“You're right.”
He glanced at my mother.
“But she does.”
My mother stared at the ground.
Then she whispered:
“Her name was Celeste.”
I froze.
“Celeste?”
My husband's mistress.
The woman who had stood beside him in the jewelry store.
The woman who had once worked for my mother.
My mother nodded.
“She knows.”
I found Celeste two hours later.
She was sitting alone in a small café on the outskirts of the city.
No designer dress.
No jewelry.
No makeup.
She looked nothing like the woman I had seen beside Nathan.
When she saw me, she stood.
“Emma.”
I sat across from her.
“Tell me.”
She looked toward the window.
“Your mother hired me when I was twenty-four.”
“For what?”
“To watch you.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother was afraid.”
“Of David?”
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“What did David want?”
“Your Trust.”
“Why?”
“Because he believed your grandfather stole it from him.”
I shook my head.
“That isn't enough.”
Celeste lowered her voice.
“Your grandfather wasn't the only person who knew about the Trust.”
“Who else?”
“Your father.”
“Michael.”
She nodded.
“Michael discovered something.”
“What?”
“That the Trust contained more than money.”
I frowned.
“What else could it contain?”
“Records.”
“Of what?”
“Ownership.”
She looked directly at me.
“Names.”
I felt a chill.
“Whose names?”
“People who had been hidden from the public.”
I didn't understand.
Celeste continued.
“Companies that weren't supposed to exist.”
“Shell companies?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To move money.”
“Whose money?”
She hesitated.
“Everyone's.”
I stared at her.
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
She reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a photograph.
It showed my mother twenty-five years earlier.
Standing beside a younger Celeste.
And another man.
I recognized him immediately.
David.
But there was someone else.
A fourth person.
A young man with dark hair.
I looked closer.
My heart stopped.
It was Nathan.
Younger.
Maybe eighteen.
I looked at Celeste.
“He knew my family before I met him.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He was connected to David.”
“What does that mean?”
“His father worked for David.”
I felt sick.
“So Nathan didn't meet me by accident.”
“No.”
“Neither did you.”
“No.”
I stared at the photograph.
“Why did my mother hire you?”
Celeste looked down.
“To protect you.”
I almost laughed.
“By spying on me?”
“Yes.”
“By sleeping with my husband?”
She closed her eyes.
“I never intended to sleep with Nathan.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I was trying to stop him.”
I frowned.
“Stop him from what?”
“Signing the transfer.”
“What transfer?”
“The one you found.”
I froze.
“You knew about the forged document.”
“I knew someone was preparing it.”
“Who?”
“Robert.”
I stared.
“Robert forged my signature?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Celeste looked at me.
“I don't know.”
I leaned forward.
“But you know who had access.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
She whispered:
“Your mother.”
I stood so quickly the chair moved backward.
“My mother?”
Celeste nodded.
“She had access to your digital signature.”
“How?”
“She had your old security credentials.”
“That makes no sense.”
“She controlled your Trust administration.”
I remembered Olivia's words.
Limited administrative authority.
My mother had access.
Celeste continued.
“She could have signed it.”
“Did she?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I saw the person who did.”
My breath caught.
“Who?”
Celeste looked toward the door.
“We weren't alone.”
I turned.
Nobody.
Celeste continued.
“The person who forged your signature was a man.”
“Who?”
“I never saw his face.”
“Then how do you know it was a man?”
“I heard his voice.”
“What did he say?”
She hesitated.
“He said something about your father.”
“What?”
“He said…”
Her voice dropped.
“Emma can never know Michael survived.”
I froze.
“That was the day I realized your family wasn't protecting you.”
“What were they doing?”
“Managing you.”
I sat back down.
“Who gave you orders?”
“Your mother.”
“Who gave your mother orders?”
Celeste looked at me.
“I don't know.”
I waited.
She whispered:
“But I think it was David.”
That night, my mother finally told me the beginning.
Not everything.
She wasn't brave enough for everything.
But enough.
We sat across from each other in the old dining room.
The same room where I had celebrated birthdays.
Christmases.
Family dinners.
I looked around.
Every memory suddenly felt suspicious.
“Your grandfather created the Trust because he discovered that David had been stealing money.”
I frowned.
“David stole from him?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Millions.”
“And Grandpa hid it?”
“He moved the money into the Trust.”
“Why?”
“To protect it.”
“From David?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did David say Grandpa stole from him?”
“Because David believed the money belonged to him.”
“Did it?”
My mother looked away.
“Some of it.”
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
“Your grandfather had inherited money from his father.”
“And David?”
“David believed he had equal rights.”
“Didn't he?”
“Legally, yes.”
I frowned.
“Then why did Grandpa control everything?”
“Because David was dangerous.”
“That isn't an answer.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“He was involved with criminals.”
Silence.
“Organized crime?”
She nodded.
I felt cold.
“My grandfather took the money away from him.”
“Yes.”
“And David wanted revenge.”
“Yes.”
“Where does Michael fit?”
My mother began crying.
“Michael tried to expose David.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
“Because David killed him?”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“Because Michael agreed to disappear.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
“From David?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you tell me he was dead?”
“Because if David believed Michael was dead, he would stop looking for him.”
I swallowed.
“Was Michael really my father?”
My mother didn't answer.
That silence destroyed something inside me.
“Mom.”
She finally looked at me.
“Michael raised you.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
She whispered:
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
For twenty-nine years, I had called a man my father who wasn't my biological father.
And the woman who had given birth to me had known.
I opened my eyes.
“Who is?”
My mother looked terrified.
“I can't tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because if you know, he will come for you.”
“Who?”
She didn't answer.
I stood.
“Who is my father?”
My mother whispered one name.
“David.”
I felt the room disappear.
I didn't remember leaving the house.
I only remembered walking.
I walked until my feet hurt.
Until the city lights blurred.
Until my phone began ringing.
Nathan.
Then Olivia.
Then Celeste.
I ignored them all.
Finally, I answered Celeste.
“Emma.”
“What?”
“You need to come back.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother lied.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her voice trembled.
“She lied about who your father is.”
I stopped walking.
“You mean David.”
“No.”
I froze.
“What?”
Celeste whispered:
“David isn't your father.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Then who is?”
“I don't know.”
“You just told me—”
“I told you what your mother believed.”
“What does that mean?”
Celeste was silent.
Then:
“Your mother was never certain.”
I felt dizzy.
“How can a mother not know who her child's father is?”
“She knows who she was with.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“No.”
She sighed.
“But there was another man.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Celeste.”
“I only saw him once.”
“Where?”
“At your grandfather's house.”
“When?”
“Before you were born.”
“What did he look like?”
She hesitated.
“Like you.”
My heart stopped.
“That's impossible.”
“I know.”
“What was his name?”
“I don't know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Celeste whispered:
“He had the same scar.”
“What scar?”
“Above his left eyebrow.”
I stopped breathing.
Because I knew someone with that scar.
I had seen it in old family photographs.
My grandfather.
But he had been dead before I was born.
At least, that's what everyone had told me.
Then Celeste said:
“Emma, there's something else.”
“What?”
“The woman your mother hired me to replace.”
“Who?”
“Another woman.”
“What woman?”
“She was supposed to protect you before I did.”
“Where is she?”
Celeste's voice became almost inaudible.
“She disappeared.”
“When?”
“Three days before you were born.”
I felt a chill.
“Why?”
“Because she found out who your real father was.”
The call ended.
I stood beneath a streetlight.
Alone.
My family had lied about my father.
My husband had been sent into my life.
My mother had hired women to watch me.
My grandfather had created a six-hundred-million-dollar Trust around a secret.
And someone had spent years making sure I never discovered the truth.
Then my phone vibrated.
A new message.
Unknown number.
You are looking in the wrong direction.
Another message arrived.
David isn't the danger.
Then:
Your mother isn't the danger either.
My hands shook.
A final message appeared.
The man behind Nathan is still alive.
I stared at the words.
Then another message.
And you have already met him.
I looked up.
Across the street, a man stood beside a black car.
Gray suit.
Dark hair.
A familiar posture.
He slowly lifted his hand.
Not waving.
Pointing.
Directly at me.
Then he got into the car and disappeared into traffic.
I stood frozen.
Because even from that distance, I knew the man.
I had seen him before.
At my wedding.
In the background of one of our photographs.
Standing behind Nathan.
Smiling.
I had never asked who he was.
Now I wished I had.
Because suddenly, I understood something terrifying.
Nathan had never been the beginning of this story.
He had only been the man they sent to put me exactly where they wanted me.
May you like
And whoever had sent him…
had been watching me long before I ever knew his name.
