Chapter 12 - THE SECRET MY MOTHER TOOK TO HER GRAVE
My mother had protected me from a billionaire's financial scandal without ever telling me.
For eighteen years, she'd let me believe we lived a simple life because she preferred it.
She'd never mentioned Richard Hale.
Never mentioned Whitman Group.
Never mentioned the foundation where she'd once worked.
And now I was sitting across from Eleanor Whitman, learning that my mother had been threatened for refusing to help conceal financial fraud.
"Why didn't you contact me earlier?" I asked.
Eleanor looked down.
"Margaret asked me not to."
"Why?"
"She wanted you to have a life outside the world that frightened her."
My throat tightened.
That sounded exactly like my mother.
Protective.
Stubborn.
Always putting someone else's peace before her own.
Eleanor continued.
"After Margaret died, I kept an eye on you from a distance."
I stiffened.
"Without telling me?"
"Yes."
I stared.
"That's not protection. That's surveillance."
Eleanor flinched.
Noah looked toward his mother.
"Emily is right."
The older woman lowered her eyes.
"I understand that now."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Eleanor explained that she'd recently learned Richard Hale was connected to Ryan Collins.
She feared the fraud network might target me because of something Margaret had left behind.
"Something?" I repeated.
She reached into her handbag.
A small envelope appeared.
My name was written across the front.
In my mother's handwriting.
My breath caught.
"Where did you get that?"
"Margaret gave it to me years ago. She asked me to keep it until you were in danger."
I stared at the envelope.
Then slowly opened it.
Inside was a letter.
My darling Emily,
If you're reading this, then the people I tried to leave behind have found you.
Tears filled my eyes.
I wanted you to grow up knowing you were loved, not afraid.
I swallowed.
Years ago, I discovered that Richard Hale was using company accounts to conceal unauthorized transfers. I copied the records before I left.
My fingers trembled.
I never destroyed the evidence. I hid it somewhere only you would recognize.
I looked up.
Noah watched me silently.
I continued reading.
Remember the music box I gave you on your sixteenth birthday?
My heart stopped.
The music box.
A small wooden box with a painted bluebird on top.
I'd kept it through college.
Through my wedding.
Through every move.
It was one of the few things Ryan had allowed me to take when I left.
And right now, it was sitting inside my suitcase at Sarah's apartment.
I looked at Eleanor.
"She hid something in the music box."
Eleanor nodded.
"I believe so."
I stood.
"We need to get it."
Noah rose too.
But Rebecca's phone rang.
She answered.
Then her expression changed.
"Emily, there's a problem."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"Sarah's apartment building reported a break-in."
The room went cold.
I grabbed my phone.
Called Sarah.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Then a photograph arrived from an unknown number.
My suitcase lay open on Sarah's bedroom floor.
The music box was gone.
May you like
And beneath the photograph was one sentence.
Tell Noah Whitman to stop looking, or Emily loses her daughter.
