Chapter 6 — Her Father's Secret
Chapter 6 — Her Father's Secret
Mary stared at Ethan across the darkened restaurant.
For once, he wasn't pretending to be heartbroken.
He wasn't the abandoned fiancé.
He wasn't the gentle man who had promised her forever.
There was something colder in his eyes now.
Something that had been hiding beneath the surface for years.
Mary tightened her grip on the photograph of Victoria.
“What does my mother have to do with her?”
Ethan smiled.
“You're finally asking the right question.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“You said Victoria was dead.”
Ethan glanced at her.
“Did I?”
“You told me she died.”
“I told you what everyone was supposed to believe.”
Mary's heart pounded.
“Where is she?”
Ethan said nothing.
“Where is Victoria?”
He looked at Mary for several seconds.
Then he said quietly:
“Ask your father.”
Mary froze.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“You've known him for years.”
“Longer than you realize.”
“What did he do?”
Ethan's smile disappeared.
“That's the problem, Mary.”
He stepped closer.
“Your father didn't tell you what happened to your mother.”
Mary felt the room spin.
“What are you talking about?”
Ethan turned toward the door.
“Ask him why he paid Victoria.”
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
“You're lying.”
Ethan pulled away.
“You'll find out.”
Then he walked into the darkness.
Mary rushed after him.
By the time she reached the street, he was gone.
A black car disappeared around the corner.
She stood beneath the streetlight, frozen.
Vanessa came beside her.
“He knew.”
Mary nodded.
“Yes.”
“He knew where Victoria was.”
Mary looked down at the photograph.
“No.”
Her voice was quiet.
“He knows where she has been.”
By dawn, Mary was back at the hospital.
Her father was still unconscious.
She sat beside him for nearly an hour before speaking.
“You told me there was nothing else.”
His eyes remained closed.
“You told me Mom died in an accident.”
The heart monitor continued its steady rhythm.
“You told me Richard destroyed our family.”
Mary leaned closer.
“But you never told me what you did.”
Nothing.
She placed Victoria's photograph beside his hand.
“Who is she?”
His fingers twitched.
Mary immediately stood.
“Dad?”
His eyelids moved.
Slowly, painfully, his eyes opened.
For several seconds, he looked confused.
Then he saw the photograph.
His face changed.
“Where…”
His voice was weak.
“Where did you get that?”
Mary's heart tightened.
“So you know her.”
He closed his eyes.
“Mary…”
“Tell me.”
“Not here.”
“Why?”
He looked toward the door.
“Because they may be listening.”
Mary's eyes moved toward the security camera.
She understood.
She leaned closer.
“Then tell me quietly.”
Her father swallowed.
“Your mother…”
He struggled to breathe.
“Your mother didn't die the way I told you.”
Mary felt the blood leave her face.
“What happened?”
“She found something.”
“What?”
“A company.”
“Which company?”
He looked at her.
“Blackstone.”
Mary's breath caught.
The same company she had been investigating.
Her father continued.
“Before Blackstone became what it is today, it belonged to several families.”
“Richard?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Her father closed his eyes.
“Your mother.”
Mary stepped backward.
“What?”
“Your mother was one of the original owners.”
Mary shook her head.
“That isn't possible.”
“It is.”
“Why didn't I know?”
“Because she gave up her shares.”
“To Richard?”
“No.”
Her father's voice dropped.
“To Ethan.”
Mary stared at him.
For several seconds, the only sound was the monitor.
“No.”
Her father looked at her.
“It happened eight years ago.”
“Ethan was barely out of university.”
“He wasn't the person you thought he was.”
Mary's voice trembled.
“Why would Mom give him anything?”
“She didn't willingly.”
Mary's eyes narrowed.
“Then what happened?”
Her father looked toward the window.
“Your mother discovered that someone inside our company was stealing money.”
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“But she needed evidence.”
“Exactly.”
“Victoria?”
Her father nodded.
“Victoria was her accountant.”
Mary's mind raced.
“That's why Victoria knew her.”
“Yes.”
“And that's why she disappeared.”
Her father didn't answer.
Mary felt anger rising.
“You knew Victoria was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You knew where she was.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me believe she was dead?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
Mary laughed bitterly.
“Everyone says that.”
Her father looked at her.
“I mean it.”
“You lied to me.”
“I did.”
“You watched me prepare to marry Ethan.”
“I thought the marriage would keep you safe.”
Mary stared at him.
“How?”
“Because Richard would never attack you while you were connected to his family.”
Mary's expression hardened.
“You actually believed that?”
“No.”
Her father looked away.
“I believed I had no better choice.”
The door opened.
Claire entered.
She stopped when she saw Mary's expression.
“What happened?”
Mary looked at her.
“My father knows Victoria.”
Claire froze.
“What?”
“He knew she was alive.”
Claire closed the door.
“Then Ethan was telling the truth.”
Mary shook her head.
“Not all of it.”
Her father suddenly coughed.
The monitor began beeping faster.
Doctors rushed in.
“Please step outside.”
Mary didn't move.
“Dad—”
“Go.”
A nurse gently guided her toward the door.
Mary looked back.
Her father's eyes were open.
He was staring at her.
And he mouthed one word.
Basement.
Again.
The same word he had whispered before losing consciousness.
Mary's blood ran cold.
Three hours later, her father was stable.
Mary sat in the hospital cafeteria with Claire.
“What basement?” Claire asked.
“I don't know.”
“Your house?”
“Maybe.”
“Company headquarters?”
“I don't know.”
Claire opened her laptop.
“I've checked property records.”
“And?”
“There are three basements connected to your family's properties.”
“Which ones?”
“Your childhood home. The old Blackstone building. And your mother's private office.”
Mary looked up.
“My mother's office has been sealed for eight years.”
“I know.”
“Who has access?”
Claire paused.
“Your father.”
Mary stared at her.
“Anyone else?”
“Richard.”
Mary stood.
“Then that's where we're going.”
The old Carter estate had been empty for years.
Mary hadn't returned since her mother's funeral.
The house looked smaller than she remembered.
The garden had become overgrown.
The windows were covered in dust.
She stood at the front entrance for several seconds.
Claire unlocked the door.
“You ready?”
“No.”
They went inside anyway.
Mary's footsteps echoed through the hall.
Every room carried a memory.
Her mother's piano.
Her father's library.
The dining room where Christmas dinners had once lasted for hours.
Then she saw the staircase.
At the bottom was a door.
Locked.
Mary stared at it.
“What is that?”
Claire tried the handle.
Nothing.
Mary remembered something.
She reached into her bag.
The old key from Victoria.
Number 417.
Claire looked at her.
“That's a safe deposit key.”
Mary inserted it into the lock.
It turned.
The door opened.
A narrow staircase descended into darkness.
Claire whispered:
“Basement.”
The basement smelled of dust and old paper.
There were boxes everywhere.
Mary switched on the lights.
One flickered.
Then another.
On the far wall was a metal cabinet.
Mary walked toward it.
The cabinet was locked.
Claire examined it.
“Combination.”
Mary looked around.
A photograph hung on the wall.
Her mother.
Her father.
Victoria.
And another person.
Richard.
Mary removed the photograph.
On the back was a date.
August 14.
Below it:
417.
Mary entered 417.
The cabinet opened.
Inside were dozens of files.
Mary pulled out the first.
PROJECT VICTORIA.
Her hands began to shake.
She opened it.
The first page contained a photograph of Victoria.
The second contained financial records.
The third contained a contract.
Mary read the name at the top.
Victoria Carter.
She stopped.
“Carter?”
Claire looked over her shoulder.
“What?”
“Victoria's last name.”
Claire stared.
“She was a Carter?”
Mary nodded.
“My father said she was my mother's accountant.”
“But if she's a Carter…”
Mary slowly turned another page.
There was a birth certificate.
Mary read it.
Then read it again.
Her face went completely blank.
Claire looked at her.
“What?”
Mary handed her the document.
Claire's eyes widened.
“Oh my God.”
The certificate showed:
Victoria Carter — Daughter of James Carter.
Mary's father.
Claire looked at Mary.
“She's your sister.”
Mary couldn't breathe.
“No.”
The entire room seemed to tilt.
“That's impossible.”
Claire pointed to the document.
“Your father had another daughter.”
Mary stared at Victoria's photograph.
Her father's secret wasn't that he knew Victoria.
Victoria was his daughter.
Mary's half-sister.
And suddenly the anonymous message made sense.
Find Victoria's daughter.
Mary looked through the files again.
There was another document.
A second birth certificate.
A child's name had been blacked out.
Only one line remained visible.
Mother: Victoria Carter.
Mary whispered:
“She had a child.”
Claire nodded slowly.
“But Vanessa said—”
“Vanessa didn't know.”
Mary looked at the photograph.
“Or she lied.”
A sound came from behind them.
Footsteps.
Mary and Claire turned.
The basement door slammed shut.
Claire ran toward it.
Locked.
“Mary!”
Mary rushed over.
Someone had locked them inside.
Claire pulled out her phone.
“No signal.”
Mary banged on the door.
“Who's there?”
Silence.
Then a man's voice came from the other side.
“Go home, Mary.”
She froze.
Richard.
“Open the door.”
“You shouldn't have come here.”
“Where is Victoria?”
Silence.
“Where is she?”
Richard finally answered.
“You don't know what you're asking.”
“I know enough.”
“No.”
His voice became colder.
“You know nothing.”
Mary looked at Claire.
Then at the files.
She picked up the birth certificate.
“You had a child with my father.”
Silence.
Then Richard laughed.
Mary's blood ran cold.
“What?”
“Your father told you?”
“No.”
She raised her voice.
“I found the documents.”
Richard stopped laughing.
“You shouldn't have found those.”
“Who is Victoria's daughter?”
No answer.
“Tell me!”
Still nothing.
Then Richard said:
“You've always been curious.”
Mary's voice shook with rage.
“And you've always been a liar.”
A pause.
Then:
“Not everything your father told you is true.”
The footsteps disappeared.
Mary looked at Claire.
“He left.”
Claire shook the door.
“There's another exit.”
They searched the basement.
Behind a bookshelf, they found a narrow passage.
It led to an old storage room.
Claire pushed the door open.
They emerged into the garden.
Mary immediately called the police.
But before she could explain, her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
“Hello?”
A woman's voice.
Soft.
Older.
Familiar.
“Mary?”
Mary froze.
She knew that voice.
Not because she had heard it recently.
Because she had heard it in childhood.
On old recordings.
In dreams.
In memories.
It was her mother's voice.
“Mom?”
Silence.
Then the woman whispered:
“You have to stop.”
Mary's eyes filled with tears.
“Where are you?”
“Listen to me.”
“Mom, where are you?”
“Your father didn't betray me.”
Mary froze.
“What?”
“He was trying to save me.”
“Then who did this?”
The voice trembled.
“Ethan.”
Mary's blood turned cold.
“Ethan?”
“He knows where I am.”
“Then tell me where you are.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because he's not alone.”
Mary tightened her grip on the phone.
“Who is with him?”
The line went silent.
Then her mother's voice returned.
“Richard.”
Mary closed her eyes.
“Mom…”
“Mary, there's something you must know.”
“What?”
A long pause.
Then:
“Ethan isn't Richard's son.”
Mary couldn't speak.
“What?”
“He is…”
The line suddenly went dead.
Mary stared at her phone.
Claire looked at her.
“What happened?”
Mary slowly lowered the phone.
“My mother is alive.”
Claire's eyes widened.
“And?”
Mary looked toward the old house.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
“She said Ethan isn't Richard's son.”
That night, Mary returned to the hospital.
Her father was awake.
She entered his room alone.
He looked at her.
“You found it.”
Mary closed the door.
“You knew.”
He sighed.
“Yes.”
“Victoria is your daughter.”
“Yes.”
“She had a child.”
“Yes.”
“Where is the child?”
He looked away.
Mary stepped closer.
“Dad.”
He finally looked at her.
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I don't.”
“Then tell me who Ethan's real father is.”
Her father's face went pale.
Mary watched him carefully.
“You know.”
He closed his eyes.
“Ethan's father…”
He stopped.
Mary waited.
Then he whispered:
“Your mother.”
Mary stared at him.
“What?”
“He isn't Richard's son.”
“Then whose son is he?”
Her father looked at her.
And said the words that shattered everything Mary thought she knew.
“Ethan is your mother's son.”
Mary couldn't move.
Her father continued:
“Ethan is your half-brother.”
The room went silent.
Mary stared at him in disbelief.
“No.”
“Mary…”
“No.”
She stepped backward.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Mary shook her head.
“No.”
Her father reached for her.
She pulled away.
“Don't.”
“Mary.”
“You let me almost marry him.”
Her father's eyes filled with tears.
“I was trying to stop it.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since the day Ethan entered your life.”
Mary's voice broke.
“And you said nothing?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of Ethan?”
Her father looked at her.
“No.”
He whispered:
“Of your mother.”
Mary stared.
“Why?”
Her father closed his eyes.
“Because she isn't the woman you remember.”
Mary stood frozen.
“What does that mean?”
Before he could answer, the hospital lights suddenly went out.
The machines shut down.
The room fell into darkness.
Then the emergency lights came on.
Mary turned toward the door.
It was open.
Her father's bed was empty.
The window was shattered.
And on the white pillow was a single note.
Mary picked it up.
May you like
Three words were written in red ink:
ASK YOUR MOTHER.
